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“True. But still, if you’re going to be acting, maybe don’t make it a stretch. I mean, I’d believe actor or model, but to afford these artifacts, you’d need to be very successful.”
“So you’re saying I couldn’t make it as a model?” He put indignation in his voice.
“No.” She let out an exasperated huff. “I’m saying people would have to recognize you as a nearly naked underwear model they’ve seen in an ad.”
“So you think I’d be a good underwear model is what you’re really saying.”
He glanced sideways and caught the slight reddening of her cheeks.
“I don’t have a clue what you look like in your underwear, so no. It was just a type of model that came to mind. I’m sure you’d do better selling beer or cologne.”
Damn, how tempted he was to make an inappropriate suggestion about letting her get a peek at him in his skivvies. But not today, Satan. He had a job to do.
In an hour, maybe two, they’d be done. Say goodbye, and he’d resume his vacation. Another day visiting with his sister’s family, then he was catching a plane to go skiing in Colorado.
“Okay, so what’s my job, then, if I’m not an underwear model?”
“What was your father’s job?”
“Drinking, mostly.”
“Okay, then. Probably not that.”
“Good call.”
He considered his options, then his heart kicked up. Could he pull it off?
Do I have a choice?
He cleared his throat. “I have the perfect cover. I’m a novelist. Like Castle. Super rich.”
“What about when they ask you why they haven’t heard of you?”
“Pseudonym. I don’t tell anyone who I am in real life because I write spy thrillers.”
“Ohh. I like that. Kind of implies you know your subject matter, like Ian Fleming.”
“Exactly. I picked up a passion for Middle Eastern art and history when I may or may not have worked there.”
“It’s perfect. And you’ve been there enough to talk the talk, I presume?”
“If you only knew…” He studied her. “You spend much time in the Middle East?”
Her face flushed, and he wondered what triggered it this time.
“No. I’ve never actually been anywhere.”
“You haven’t traveled?”
Now she flushed even brighter. “Only by car.”
He wanted to ask if she was afraid to fly, but realized that would be extremely personal. Phobias weren’t something people generally wanted to discuss with strangers.
Might be extra intimidating coming from him, given that he regularly jumped out of planes for his job. “Well, if you ever get a chance, there are lots of spectacular sites and museums in that part of the world. Assuming art and history are your thing.”
“If my PhD is any indication, it is. Maybe someday I’ll get to Florence.” Her voice turned wistful. She cleared her throat. “But I’m lucky to live in DC, with an entire complex of incredible museums, and most of them are free.”
He pulled into a pay lot two blocks from the auction house, which was in the sea of buildings northwest of the Capitol.
