It wasn’t far from the hotel and though she had been there once, there was so much to see she had hardly made a dent. For the next few hours, Ellie walked the massive rooms beneath carved and gilded ceilings. When her feet began to ache, she went in search of a bench, finding one in an echoing corridor lined on both sides with huge Renaissance oil paintings. There were scenes of the Crucifixion, Gainsborough’s Pinky, a Rubens with its cherubic, pink-fleshed women, and across the way in a glass-enclosed box, the Mona Lisa.
Ignoring the sign on the wall that forbid taking pictures, Japanese tourists flashed cameras at the centuries’ old canvas.
“So now I discover you like fine art.” Whitfield’s deep voice sent an unwelcome thrill up her spine.
She stood up from the bench, wishing she were anywhere but there. “What are you doing here? You don’t seem the art-lover type.”
He smiled. “The Whitfield Collection houses some of the world’s greatest masterpieces. But I came to see the Egyptian Antiquities. It’s always been an interest of mine. Have you seen the exhibit?”
“No. I’ve been walking around for hours, but there’s just so much to see.”
“Why don’t you come along?”
She thought of Clay with the female groom. “I’m still a little tired.”
“I promise you it’ll be worth it.”
She read the challenge in his expression.Why the hell not? Every other woman in the world seemed to find time for Clay. “All right. Let’s go.”
They headed down the wide staircase past the Winged Venus of Samothrace that stood on the landing. When they entered the massive Egyptian Antiquities chamber, Ellie was surprised to see huge Egyptian sphinxes, twenty-foot statues of gods and pharaohs, and whole tombs reconstructed, their painted walls completely intact.
“Clay, this is magnificent.” She glanced around, forgetting everything but her surroundings. “It’s like going back in time.”
“It is, isn’t it? I come here whenever I’m in Paris. There’s always something new to see.” They walked through the maze of towering sculptures, the chamber surprisingly void of people.
“Is it always this quiet in here? It’s kind of eerie.”
“Every time I’ve been here it has been. It gives the place a tomb-like quality that seems exactly right.”
“I wonder what people were like back then.”
“Probably a lot like we are now. Some happy, some sad, some indifferent.”
“Which are you?”
Clay looked at her as if debating how much of himself to reveal. “Probably the last.”
“I’d rather be sad than indifferent. I’d rather feel anything than nothing at all.”
They meandered through the gigantic pieces. “I take it that means you consider yourself happy,” Clay said.
“Of course. Why shouldn’t I be? Every time I look around, I’m grateful to be alive.”
He scoffed. “I’m afraid I’m more than a little jaded.”
“Maybe you just don’t want to admit your feelings.” She smiled. “I read a little of your poetry, remember?”
He grimaced. “Don’t remind me.”
Clay looked into Ellie’s wide green eyes. There was an ocean of feeling in those eyes. Whenever he talked to her, life seemed different somehow. Fuller, richer, immensely worth living.
She brushed past him toward a gray granite wall notched with intricate hieroglyphics. His eyes strayed to her sexy little ass, which he always found fascinating. He wanted to take her to bed, to capture that aliveness, soak up the warmth she carried inside.
“Let me take you to supper,” he said, regretting the words as soon as they were spoken.
“Tonight’s the team dinner,” she reminded him. “Your father’s the sponsor. Don’t you have a date already?”
In fact, he did. With Gabriella Marchbanks, a model from New York who was on location in Paris forHarper’s Bazaar.
