Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
But Winnie was here now, and I couldn’t help thinking everything was going to be okay.
13
WINNIE
Back in Paris and it was showtime, baby.
This was what I was here for. This was my time to shine. This was where I was supposed to watch out for mismatched socks, mind the clock, and make sure my best friend’s boss remembered to eat. Easy stuff. So easy that I hadn’t really given the conference portion of this trip much thought. To say I was a tad unprepared for my assignment was an understatement.
Okay, the socks, time management, and food weren’t an issue. But conference rooms filled to the gills with a hoard of serious-looking Egyptologists was another story. I’d never been around so many smarty-pants people in my life. It was kind of intimidating.
And a text from Raine with a list of reminders didn’t help.
Day one is a meet and greet. Mission wardrobe is on. Check the socks and be ready with a water bottle and a packet of almonds. The professor forgets to eat at those things.
Day two is his speech on Saqqara.
Day three is the recent discovery of the Nile Delta Necropolis. Professor Poitier will speak afterward. They have friendly tension. Jammie Dodgers help. Suggest a cup of tea and sneak a few on his plate. Perfect stress reliever.
Day four is…
I turned my cell upside down and frowned. Fuck, I should have been doing my own research. I didn’t know jack shit about Saqqara and the Nile Delta. I was supposed to be a true asset, not just a pretty face handing out jam cookies.
Okay, no freaking out. I could cram a few weeks’ worth of ancient Egypt into a couple of all-nighters with Wikipedia, and in the morning, I’d blow the professor in the shower.
Yeah, I had this. No worries.
Study, sex, serve.
Day one began with a BJ and a leisurely lie-in. Then Alistair shuffled to his makeshift desk in the hotel room to work. That was my cue to hit up Google for some Egyptology for Dummies notes. I spent an hour memorizing basic facts like there are many pyramids in Egypt, one female pharaoh wore a fake beard, and mummification required a fuckton of bandages.
That was as far as I got. Sorry, but it was a smidge boring and I needed to save my enthusiasm for later. Besides, he’d agreed to let me trim his hair, so I had a mini project before the festivities.
“I probably shouldn’t be asking, but…are you nervous?”
Alistair met my gaze in the mirror propped next to the dining table in his suite. “No. Not at all. I know most everyone who’ll be there. It’s fine.”
“Oh.”
“I’m more nervous about how much hair you’re cutting,” he griped playfully.
“Don’t be. I’m a professional.”
“I know.” He smiled. “Are you nervous?”
“Me? Ha! Of course not. My job is socks.”
“No…you’re my date.” Alistair waited till my hands went still to glance up at me. “You didn’t think I was leaving you in the hotel room, did you?”
“Well, no. I thought I was following you and staying close in case you needed something.”
“I’m not a pampered celebrity, Winnie…or a toddler.”
“I know, I know.” I raked my teeth over my lower lip. “But date? That’s—are you sure you want that?”
“Yes. I’m positive.” He wrinkled his nose and scratched his nape nervously. “To be clear, I’m not coming out at an event with three hundred work associates. It’s not that I’m not proud, but—”
“Shh. I get it. If you want me, you can have me.”
“I want you,” he whispered. “More than you know.”
The way he looked at me just then sent the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. I’d waited my whole life for that look. It was possessive and hungry and vaguely dirty with the right amount of indulgent reverence.
And it made me nervous. Not good, ’cause nervous me was a loose cannon.
But don’t worry…I had this.
The meet and greet was held at a banquet room at the Ritz. Snazzy Central. I wore a clingy tuxedo shirt under a short dinner coat with big gold buttons and a purple plaid kilt, in case you’re curious. Other than the kilt, it was a safe ensemble. Alistair wore a suit. An actual well-tailored gorgeous navy suit, a white oxford shirt, and a silk tie.
Wow…just wow. The professor cleaned up nicely.
“You look amazing,” I gushed. “So handsome and—”
“Dr. Creighton, it’s a pleasure to see you. Do you remember my wife, Penelope?” An old gentleman with a huge white mustache stepped up, grasping the professor’s hand as he pulled a slight woman with glasses forward. They were Americans from Spokane who’d specifically made the journey to hear Alistair speak.
Another couple joined them. And another. We were surrounded on both sides by eager-looking, well-dressed folks vying for Alistair’s attention. Someone quoted a passage from his last novel; someone else wanted his thoughts regarding the latest dig in a city I couldn’t pronounce to save my life.