She yanked her gaze up. Even in the dimness, he saw the roses in her cheeks. Then, God help him, she wetted her lips like the naughty naiad she was, causing his arousal to border on painful.
“Enjoying your little game?” he asked.
“I’m not playing any games,” she protested.
Her denial was breathy, the feminine awareness in her eyes drawing him closer. He leaned toward her, bracing more of his weight against the relief. As he did so, he heard a click and felt something give way beneath his palm. He jerked his hand away and saw that the grinning face of the satyr had receded into the wall.
“What the devil?” he muttered.
A rumble started in the wall, and he grabbed Gigi, shoving her behind him. His muscles bunching, he watched as a section of the sculpted scene separated from the rest. It swung open like a door, releasing a puff of steam. As the mist cleared, Conrad saw that the panel had concealed a staircase that led into the bowels of the spa.
“A secret passageway,” Gigi breathed. “Just like in my dream.”
Before he could stop her, she dashed around him and down the steps.
Trembling with excitement, Gigi descended the steps of the tunnel.
My dream wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. There is something down here…something to do with Rosalinda and Thomas. Something I am meant to discover.
Feeling Godwin’s presence behind her, she flashed back to Rosalinda leading Thomas into the darkness. Was this ruthless magnate somehow part of Gigi’s destiny? She shivered at the thought. She wouldn’t trust him farther than she could toss him and yet…
And yet.
He had a powerful effect on her senses. No man had ever affected her in this manner. He was blunt, crude, and stood for everything she despised. At the same time, when his voice got growly and those emerald flames lit his eyes, everything in her responded. Everything in her melted?—
“Stop,” Godwin commanded.
They’d reached a door.
“I will go in first,” he said.
In the flickering glow of the candle he’d had the presence of mind to bring along, his face was carved with resolve.
She lifted her brows, stepping aside. “Be my guest.”
He tried the doorknob. When it didn’t turn, she felt a rush of disappointment.
Godwin handed her the candle.
“Hold this,” he said.
Removing a pouch from his pocket, he upended it. Water gushed out (at his grimace, she hid a grin), followed by metal objects that clattered into his large palm.
“Lock picks?” She gave him a saccharine smile. “Came prepared, did you, Mr. Godwin?”
“I am always prepared.”
“Even for trespassing.”
At her jibe, he shrugged. “For anything.”
Godwin inserted the picks, and while she might be concerned about his morals (or lack thereof), she had to admire his expertise. He unlocked the door within seconds, and taking the candle from her, led the way into a small antechamber. A risqué statue of a satyr embracing a nymph stood next to a stone bench. There were hooks on the walls and two shelves stacked with what appeared to be aged toweling. When Gigi picked up one of the linens, it disintegrated, pieces fluttering to the ground.
Godwin prowled around. “What is the purpose of this place?”
“I think it is a caldarium,” Gigi said slowly.
He twisted his head to look at her. “Beg pardon?”
