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“That’s what you say now,” Mary-Alice replies. “But fast-forward a few years, and you’re on the cover ofArcheology Today, making eyes at the photo intern while she’s running the fact-check and never even gets her name in print. Rat Bastard,” she scowls with such venom, I take a step back.

“Jake really did a number on her, huh?”

“She would never admit it,” Mary-Alice sighs, “But … yeah. He did. Which is why she deserves someone to worship the ground she walks on now,” she adds, giving me a meaningful look. “To love and adore her until the end of time. Is that going to be you?”

I blink.

“Well, it’s early days, so we’re still getting to know each other,” I answer slowly. My instincts may be screaming “yes” to all the above, but since Ivy is still bolting at a moment’s notice, I’m not about to broadcast my feelings to the world. “But I'm not playing around here, if that’s what you want to hear.”

“Hmmm,” Mary-Alice makes another cryptic noise, but then she gives a nod. “I can work with that. As long as you help Ivy find this treasure first. Because, I swear, if Jake gets his hands on the prize …”

“He won’t,” I vow. “Not with Ivy on the trail. She’s brilliant.”

“Yes, she is.” Mary-Alice softens into an approving smile. “And at least you seem smart enough to realize that, which is better than the last guy, so, I’m going to give you some advice …" she beckons me closer, and leans in, murmuring in my ear. “Forearms.”

“What?” I blink, confused.

“Forearms,” she repeats. “They’re her kryptonite. Do with that information what you will.” Then she gives me a wink, turns on her heel, and crosses the room to collect the tow-haired toddler keeping Dot company at the front desk.

Interesting…

There’s a rush of activity, as the school session finishes, and the kids bustle around. Ivy makes her way over to me, looking wary. “What did Mary-Alice say to you?”

“Oh, just a few threats of bodily harm,” I reply, holding out her coffee. “You were great in there. A natural storyteller.”

Ivy looks bashful. She’s looking more put together today, in a dark red skirt that hits at her calves, and a white sweater that brings out the rosy glow in her cheeks. “I just try to keep them entertained, that’s all.”

“Which is my entire job, so believe me, I know how hard it is.”

Ivy takes a sip, then her eyes widen in surprise. “How did you know my favorite order?”

“I have my ways,” I grin. “So?”

“So?” Ivy takes another sip, a teasing smile playing on the edge of her lips.

“The papers!” I exclaim. “They must have processed by now. Are you going to make me beg?”

“I don’t know … maybe later.” Ivy’s eyes meet mine with a knowing smirk, and damn, I forget about the room of strangers, and public decency laws. I just want to throw her up against the wall and sink inside her.

Fuck, I’ll beg all she likes.

Ivy’s cheeks turn red, as if she’s thinking the exact same thing. “Yup, the papers are all done,” she says quickly, taking another gulp of her drink. “Ouch, brain-freeze,” she winces.

I smile. Typical Ivy, going from wanton sex goddess to fucking adorable in the space of five seconds flat. But I know better than to use the A-word around her now, so I just follow her through the museum, to her private office in the back of the building. This one isn’t as personal as her studio back at home: just some file cabinets and a messy desk, piled with binders and books.

“People like to wander,” Ivy explains, going to her purse and pulling out a big file. “And the kids all have sticky fingers.”

“Literally or metaphorically?” I ask, perching on the edge of the desk.

Ivy laughs. “Both.”

She opens the file, revealing the papers that we found in the attic box now neatly sandwiched between preservation film. “You found something, didn’t you?” I say, leaning closer. She’s looking all flushed, and I’m not arrogant enough to think it’sallmy doing.

“Wefound something,” she corrects me, beaming. “Look. It was on the county fair flyer, the one from their first date.”

Ivy shows me the page. The paper is tinted deep purple now, but whatever chemicals she used, they’ve revealed a thin line of handwritten text along the edge of the flyer.

“Look behind the curtain,’” I read aloud. “Whatever happens, I’ll always love you.”

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