Not going to happen, mate.
Before I can say something stupid, like ask her to marry me, a man in a cheap suit steps forward with a big smile. “Calliope, how lovely to see you again. And this is?”
The temperature in the room drops to normal as she turns to the bloke and lets go of my gaze. “Sir James, meet Mr. Mayfield, the bank manager.”
After shaking hands, I reach inside my jacket, and hand him my id.
Then, we all chat amicably about the storm and traffic. Calliope and I ignore how, for a moment, reality tilted on its axis and shooting stars blasted across the heavens. I pretend I wasn’t held captive by a gorgeous goddess with eyes deeper than the sea.
As if it was an ordinary day, the manager takes a picture of my driver’s license and says, “Excellent. Everything seems to be in order. Come with me.”
He presses a thumb into a panel by the elevator and we lower to the bottom floor. When the doors open, we exit into a room full of numbered metal boxes.
“I’ll wait right outside.” Mayfield leaves and again we’re left alone.
Calliope casts a hungry stare my way before turning a small key in one of over several hundred boxes. She pulls hard and places a drawer on a gleaming steel table in the middle of the room.
Under her passport and birth certificate lies a small black velvet bag. She pulls on the string, turns the sack upside down, and two unremarkable earrings plop into her hands. By today’s standards, the pearls are small and the rubies cloudy.
Holding them to the light, she says, “They’re circa fifteen-ninety. My great-great-and-so-on grandfather bought them on a trip to Florence. Researchers believe he stole them as there’s a matching Medici necklace in the Vatican. We only show them once a year for this event. Rich people pay over a thousand dollars per ticket while I walk around and let them take pictures.”
The earrings go back in the bag and again those blue eyes entrap mine. “Take them.”
Sinking fast in her loveliness, I hold out my hand and when she places the bag there, the need to have her skin linger on mine is almost unbearable.
I wrap my fingers around the bag, catch her hand, and hold it. Her brows raise and lips part while I inhale lemons, oranges, and something uniquely feminine.
Fookin’ A.
“Lovely.” And I’m not talking about the earrings.
I place the velvet bag in the inner pocket of my suit jacket then wave my hand in front of her face, a million miles away.
“Are you okay?”
Blushing again, she glances at the floor. “Sorry. My mind wandered.”
My mind wandered, too, luv.Like what it might be like to dip into your sweet flesh while those lush lips scream out my name.
When she turns to place the box back into the wall, I admire her backside, follow her out the door, and say, “Time to find your mum.”
The bank manager laughs. “Have you met her yet?”
I shake my head, no.
“You’re in for quite a treat.”
After those two get done laughing, the manager presses the up arrow. “I’m sorry. That was rude. Calliope’s mother can be... opinionated.”
Callie’s grin is laced with mischief. “What he’s trying to say is Mother is difficult at best and impossible at her worst.”
Upstairs, we dress for the cold and at the door, I shoot out my hand. “No. Stay put, I’ll warm up the car for you.”
Despite the clearing skies, the wind whips and the snow blows sideways. The near-zero visibility makes me nervous so I finger the gems, my weapon, and rush to the car. Inside, the SUV, I start the ignition, turn on the heat, and the passenger door opens.
“Hi.” Callie sits and grins.
“Note to self, the woman does not follow instructions.”
