“Which were?”
“Don’t write anything down and don’t tell anyone, not even you, the secret ingredients … or she’d Lorena Bobbit me,” Julian said, biting his bottom lip as he looked over at her.
“Really? My mother spent years perfecting that recipe. If she was walking you through it, how did it end up like … this?” Mena asked, enjoying the sight of Julian struggling with not being good at something.
“Got distracted by a phone call. I swear I only stepped away for ten minutes,” Julian said.
“A call from T.I.D.E.S.?” Mena asked, her curiosity piqued as she slid the folder toward him.
Julian hesitated for a split second, then took a deep breath. “I got a job.”
“A job?” Mena asked, not surprised Julian had finally found work that would meet his interests. It was only a matter of time before he ran out of ways to entertain himself while she went to work every day.
“Private security. The company is owned by one of my old Navy buddies,” Julian said.
Mena flipped the folder open and scanned the forms inside. “Is that Sunny Tate?” She asked, pointing to the name on the letterhead of the employment offer memo.
Julian nodded.
“Will it be dangerous?” Mena asked.
“Could be,” Julian said.
Again, not surprised. Her attempts to get Julian to take a safe job in the IT field had been met with disinterest and resistance. She knew a part of Julian craved being in situations where he could save the day, be the hero, and make a difference in people’s lives. It was one of the reasons she’d fallen in love with him, and she couldn’t expect him to change now.
“Promise you’ll be careful,” Mena said.
“Only if you promise you’ll forgive me for missing your lecture,” Julian said.
Mena turned to face him. “I’m not mad at you anymore. I miss you. I miss us.”
She trailed her hand against the chiseled muscles of his chest, running her fingers down until she stopped just south of his navel. The unmistakable movement beneath Julian’s sweatpants was exactly the response she’d been hoping for. Slipping her hand beneath the band, Mena caressed the shaft of his cock as it grew harder and lengthened in her hand.
“I want you,” Mena whispered.
Julian let out a low moan as he dipped his head toward her. His penetrating gaze held her in place as he brought his lips tantalizing close to hers.
“You have me,” Julian whispered back.
Chapter Eight
Mena whistled under her breath as she swiped her badge against the panel of the main museum door and entered, nodding at the morning security guard. She liked entering through the museum, using the skywalk to cross over to the Irungu Center. Seeing the amazing works of art always lifted her spirits, but not as much as an intense night of lovemaking with Julian could. Her body still ached from last night’s sexual gymnastics. Mena made a mental note to not miss her lunchtime yoga classes. She had to keep her flexibility up.
Getting back on track wasn’t the only thing lifting her spirits. Twenty-four hours had passed since she’d received the last text message. Maybe the annoying pest had finally realized she wasn’t going to meet with him now or ever. With everything going on, the last thing she wanted was to be paranoid about coming face to face with her past. Despite her amazing mood this morning, trepidation lingered.
What if he showed up at the museum again?
What would she do?
Stepping through the empty lobby, Mena walked past the exhibit hall, where the Anatsui sculptures hung from the ceiling. As she headed toward the skywalk, her heels echoed on the granite floors. The morning sunrays blinded her as she walked through the glass-enclosed tunnel and into the Irungu Center. Taking the elevator to the top floor, she headed toward the room affectionately called the bullpen, where the conservators worked tirelessly restoring masks, sculptures, ceramics, and textiles reflecting the beauty and majesty of African tribal artistic expression.
Sliding the door open, Mena clenched her jaw as she prepared for another tense day with her co-workers.
Grace and Isaac were already at work and engaged in another epic debate. Mena didn’t want to know what this one was about. She tucked her head and walked past them, hoping they wouldn’t drag her into their bickering again. She wanted nothing more than to lose herself in her work, the delicate painstaking process of cleaning a 16th-century ivory bracelet with intricate figures and latticework carved into the surface. Wangari had entrusted the priceless piece into her care, expecting her laser conservation techniques to succeed where the other more traditional approaches had failed. She’d been working fifteen-hour days trying to complete the restoration in time for next week’s exhibit opening.
Isaac shook his head. “Your excitement over the guy who turned you into a side piece, then dropped you without warning, is making every feminist around the globe cringe in disgust.”
Mena kept her head down, hoping they wouldn’t notice her entrance, and headed toward the back of the room to her workstation.
