The London Deception Read Online Free PDF Page B

rose up in her mind to swamp her with the memory of a moonlit night full of danger and death.
    Pull it together, girl.
    The admonishment did little to remove the memory, but it was enough to have her gathering her manners and extending her hand. “Lovely to meet you.”
    “Likewise.”
    The cultured tones of his native Britain met her ears, and another remembrance struck hard and fast. This man’s voice was deeper than the one that haunted her memories, but still effective at turning her insides liquid.
    Kensington gestured him toward a seat, and Rowan took a moment to gather herself while his attention was diverted. She’d been in the presence of men with British accents before. She’d also been in the presence of men with hazel eyes.
    So where was this sudden flash of memory coming from?
    And why was it so strong and nearly debilitating in its intensity?
    Sure, the dreams had been particularly bad of late and she hadn’t been sleeping well, but even insomnia wasn’t an excuse for such a reaction. Maybe it was the prospect of spending time in his all-too-attractive company if they agreed to the assignment.
    Or so Rowan hoped.
    They all helped themselves to coffee and a small fruit-and-breakfast-pastry tray before resuming spots at the table. Rowan hung back, lingering over the preparation for her coffee, intrigued by the seat Finn selected.
    In her experience, powerful men always gravitated to the head of the table, so it was fascinating when he selected a seat in the middle. It was even more fascinating to watch as he removed his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, the thick muscles of his forearms capturing her gaze.
    “Finn, I appreciate your taking the time to meet with us.” Kensington started in, her “client tone” firmly in place. “Your request is an interesting one and frankly not something a lot of firms have the expertise to pull off.”
    “Which is why I made the outreach to you in the first place.”
    “And which we appreciate.” Kensington volleyed right back. “It doesn’t change the fact you’re requesting services from us that are, at best, unorthodox and, at worst, highly dangerous.”
    “The danger should be minimal, especially for someone of your sister’s expertise.”
    For the first time since the discussion began, Finn’s gaze settled fully on her. Rowan felt the shift in attention immediately, a heavy rush of heat filling her center at his scrutiny.
    “You seem awfully sure about that, Mr. Gallagher.”
    “Finn.” He corrected her with a smile. “Please.”
    “Whatever I call you, it doesn’t change the fact you want me to accompany you into a highly charged political situation. Those assigned to excavate the site have a variety of interests. What makes you so sure they’re all willing to play well with others?”
    “I make it my business to know the odds. To understand where there’s real danger and where there’s simply a lot of smoke.”
    “And I make it my business to pick the proper partner when politics are involved,” Rowan parried.
    “I am the right partner.”
    “I’ve already been approached on this project by the British Museum. I’m scheduled to spend time on the excavation site in the spring.”
    “Partner with me and you can get there next week. All your clearances will be taken care of. Immediate access, Ms. Steele.”
    Rowan smiled, the formality an interesting touch, especially since they’d already dispensed with surnames at his directive. “I’ve spent my career building my reputation with the Egyptian authorities, the world’s major auction houses and the academicians who want to ensure history is preserved.”
    “As have I.”
    “Yet you want me to pose as your business partner, aid you in authenticating the cache and potentially aid in the removal of said cache if the situation becomes untenable.”
    “Yes.”
    She shook her head, the movement enough to flutter the light material of her blouse where it gaped