Jordana wasn’t sure how she would break the news of their split to her father. Then again, dutiful Elliott probably had taken care of that for her too.
Instead, she had chosen to put all of the drama and emotional stress on hold for a while, letting her work at the museum absorb her. It was the one thing she had that had always been hers all on her own, historic art being her passion.
Her personal sanctuary and escape.
Fortunately, her work was giving her plenty of things to think about, aside from the sudden mess of her private life. The exhibit’s grand opening was little more than twenty-four hours away and was nearly sold out. She and Carys had reviewed the final list of preparations top to bottom twice today, ensuring that everything was in place for a successful event.
Still, that didn’t keep Jordana from obsessing over the details yet again. She was in her office on the phone with the local florist when she felt a queer prickling of the fine hairs at her nape.
Was someone in the closed exhibit room outside?
It couldn’t be Carys. She’d left just a few minutes ago to pick up a last-minute printing order across town. As for the rest of the museum staff, most would be packing up and preparing to close for the night.
But there was definitely someone in the exhibit. Jordana felt the presence like a cool hand settling against the back of her neck. She felt observed somehow, much as she had been in the parking lot the other night. Anxiety spiked through her as she ended her phone conversation and walked out of her office.
A man stood inside the closed exhibit.
Dressed in a rumpled, rain-dappled gray overcoat, he pivoted to face her as she approached. He was tall and fit beneath the drooping coat, worn jeans, and faded T-shirt. His short, bland brown hair was combed neatly to the side.
Everything about him was average and nondescript, except for his eyes. An arresting shade of peridot, they held her in an unrushed, considering stare.
Although nothing about him broadcasted a threat, Jordana’s senses remained alert, expectant in some odd way. “I’m sorry, but the exhibit hasn’t opened to the public yet. You can’t be in here.”
“I won’t stay long,” he said. “I only wanted to come in and have a quick look.”
She frowned. “I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave. We have tickets for sale at the museum website, or you can come back tomorrow evening at the grand opening and purchase a ticket at the door.”>No, not just a man—a Breed warrior. Six and a half feet of sinew and dark, stormy menace. Jordana knew that massive build and prowling swagger anywhere.
She could still feel his hands on her. She could still hear the sinful rumble of his deep voice against her ear.
Nathan.
God help her, she almost called his name out loud.
But then, in that next awful instant, a woman came out of the room behind him.
More naked than not, she strutted out on spiked boots, her breasts strapped into a complicated web of black leather and metal rings, another skimpy, punishing-looking set of straps emphasizing the round globes of her bare behind.
There could be no mistaking the brunette’s line of work. Nor the fact that she and Nathan had been in the room together behind the closed door.
The woman glanced over her shoulder and spotted Jordana and Carys gaping at her in the corridor. In the sex worker’s hand was a wad of cash, which she ceremoniously slipped beneath one of the tight black strips of leather on her bosom before sauntering off.
Jordana felt sick. If she’d been afraid of how she’d left things with Nathan tonight, apparently she shouldn’t have worried. He certainly hadn’t wasted any time finding a replacement for her.
Disappointment and hurt roared up on her. She was pissed too—at him, but even more so at herself, for caring enough to be upset.
“Get me out of here,” she whispered to Carys.
Her friend looked equally miserable. “Oh, God, honey. I had no idea. I never would’ve told you to come—”
“He can’t know I was here,” Jordana hissed urgently. “Don’t let him see me, please. He can’t know that I saw him here tonight.”
“Of course not.” Carys took her hand. “Come on. Rune’s quarters are this way.”
Jordana followed her friend down another length of dark hallway, feeling as if that cliff she’d been so afraid of had suddenly broken away under her feet and left her falling.
12
“YOU TRYING TO CLEAN THAT FIREARM OR RUB OFF THE SERIAL number?”