“26,000 BC,” Wes murmured from behind her.

“Can you believe someone made this?” she asked Wes, and this time, she tugged him closer so they could look at the sphinx up close. She shot a glance over her shoulder. The guard wasn’t watching.

“Do you think he’d let me touch it?” she asked in a whisper.

Wes followed her gaze to the guard, who wasn’t looking and he grinned. “Go for it.”

She reached out and touched the shoulder of the great pink granite creature. The stone was warm beneath her palm and she gasped. Without thinking, she took Wes’s hand and placed it on the stone, holding his palm.

“Close your eyes,” she told him, excitement fluttering through her.

He stared at her for a long second before he closed his eyes.

“Feel the heat. The granite heated by centuries in the sun. A dark-skinned man, eyes rimmed with kohl, working a chisel and hammer as he carved a magnificent mysterious gatekeeper who speaks in riddles to travelers.”

As she spoke, the hardened lines around his eyes and mouth smoothed as he relaxed.

“Taste the sting of sand when the winds blow in from the south. Hear the rushes of the plants at the Nile’s edge. Can you see the trio of the pyramids?”

Wes nodded faintly, then slowly opened his eyes and looked at where their hands were joined on the ancient stone.

“Tomorrow I want you to draw this. This moment right here.” His voice was low and a little rough and his eyes were as bright as sapphires.

“I don’t have any tools or paper.” She reluctantly released his hand and their physical connection broke apart. Something inside her stirred, like a spring breeze rustling through the green grass outside the ranch. She had felt warm inside whenever they touched and she mourned the loss of it now.

Mignon coughed from the doorway. “We have time for one more artifact before Monsieur Razin will need you.”

“Of course,” Wes said. “What do you recommend?”

Mignon smiled broadly as though delighted to be consulted. “This way.”

They walked down a short flight of steps into a crypt-like room containing a huge sarcophagus.

“The sarcophagus of King Ramses III,” Mignon supplied.

Callie crept closer, in awe of the massive pink granite sarcophagus. The intricate hieroglyphs carved all around the surface of the tomb were stunning.

“What do you think he was like?” she asked Wes, thinking of the linen cloth wrapped body of a god-king inside his coffin.

Wes folded his arms over his chest, intently studying the carvings.

“He was a mortal man, one who wanted to build a life and leave an eternal legacy behind.”

“Thousands of years later we still know his name and legacy. I’d say he managed it. Immortality. I couldn’t imagine leaving behind something that would leave its mark on the world.”

Wes slid his hands into his suit pocket. “You could, you know. You have talent, Callie, real talent.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “You’re just saying that. There are a thousand artists out there just like me.”

“No.” His eyes darkened. “There aren’t. I don’t lie and I have no intention of fluffing your ego. I meant what I said. You could make an unbelievable artist. You see so much more than what others see. It sets you apart.” He leaned close to her, and she found herself closing the gap between them, fascinated by the shape of his lips as he spoke.

“Tomorrow we’ll buy the supplies you’ll need.” He took her hand and they left Ramses III to sleep in his granite tomb, to dream the dreams of a long-ago perished god-king.

Chapter 8

It was nearly midnight when Wes carried Callie from the car while Michel held the door. She had fallen asleep after leaving the Louvre. She’d been up for a day and a half with no real sleep and he had purposely kept her awake and engaged most of the day so she would adjust to the time change. He came to Paris every couple of months, so the change wasn’t that difficult for him.

“You wore out the young lady?” Michel teased as he waited for Wes to go to the apartment elevators.

“Yes, poor thing.” Wes chuckled. “Bonsoir, Monsieur.”

“Bonsoir, Monsieur Thorne.”

Wes nodded at the night guard who pressed the elevator button so Wes wouldn’t have to put Callie down. He liked the way she felt in his arms, perfect. Caring for her soothed his dominant tendencies. Normally he didn’t react so tenderly to a submissive, but Callie wasn’t a submissive. She was something infinitely more important. She was his and he took care of what belonged to him.

When he got to the apartment door, however, he set her down on her feet, keeping one arm wrapped around her waist.

“What? We’re home?” she mumbled sleepily, resting her head on his shoulder and leaning into him for support. That strange sense of fuzzy warmth inside him blossomed. Home. She felt at home here. That pleased him, and he was also pleased she was relying on him, trusting him physically. When he’d made the bet in the barn, he’d been thinking about his ego, his obsession, and his need to possess her, but the wager had taken on a new importance to him. He felt the strange need to prove to her that he could care for her, be the man she needed in order to get over Fenn.

“Yes, we’re home. Hold on.” He unlocked the door and got them both inside, then locked the door. After that, he picked her up again and carried her to her room. He placed her down on the bed and removed her shoes. Without thinking, he gripped one of her feet and rubbed the sole, massaging it. She sighed and stretched out on the bed still in her coat and dress. He rubbed her other foot and she giggled, jerking a little as though tickled.

“That feels so good,” she said and moaned.

Wes couldn’t stop the spreading smile on his face. There was something so erotic and intensely natural about Callie that he was endlessly fascinated by her. She was innocent in so many ways, yet she was also incredibly sensual. A rare combination in anyone, and it was something that wouldn’t change, not so long as she had the right bed partner.

“Do you need help undressing?” he asked when he noticed she seemed content to lie on her back, almost asleep.

“Mmm…maybe.” She giggled again and then flipped onto her stomach. “Can you unzip my dress?” She seemed to be waiting. He sighed. The woman was straining his control. He carefully removed her coat and then unzipped the back of her dress. The thin strip of a conservative black bra caught his attention. Unable to resist, he slid his fingers beneath the band between her shoulder blades and stroked her skin.

“That’s nice…” She purred and nuzzled the comforter.

Wes blew out a measured breath, trying to ignore the male part of his body that came to life. She was such a temptation to him and she had no idea how much he wanted to strip her bare and press her deep into the bed and pound into her until they both nearly died from the pleasure. He needed to put some space between them or he’d lose control.

“I’ll be in my room if you need anything.” He got off her bed and walked back to his room. He stripped out of his suit coat, tossing it over the back of a chair and then he kicked off his shoes and pants and fetched a pair of cotton pajama pants from his dresser. He had a hard-on but there was no way he could deal with that right now. She’d hear him in the bathroom if he tried to see to his needs. Maybe with a little luck he could will it to go away.

He pulled back the covers of his bed and climbed in. Only a few minutes passed as he lay there and mastered his arousal before a quiet voice drifted to him from the doorway to his room and made him look up.

“Wes…” Callie stood in the doorway between his room and their shared bathroom. She wore a large t-shirt with a faded ranch logo and a pair of plaid boxers. Her hair was loose and tumbling around her shoulders.