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He neatly folded one of Papá’s shirts, and gently placed it inside one of the trunks. “It’s your uncle who unearths things for a living. Not you, Señorita Olivera.”
“But that’s my aim, nevertheless.”
He kept his attention trained on me and I fought the urge to fidget. If he wanted to intimidate me, he’d have to try harder than that. Despite his size, despite the gun hanging loosely at his side. The handle was engravedwith the letters CGG.I hadn’t noticed it before, but taking him in from his rough leather boots to the straight line of his shoulders, the unpleasant truth hit me square in the face.
“Military?”
His brows lowered, forbidding. “Pardon?”
“Are you British military?”
“No,” he said.
“Those are not your initials.” I pointed to the gun in his holster. “I thought your name is Whitford Hayes?”
“It is.” Then he abruptly changed the subject. “Put on something frilly and decent and come down for dinner.”
First, he tried to send me away from Egypt. Now he was ordering me to dinner. “Stop trying to tell me what to do.”
He walked around the bed and stood in front of me, a mischievous glint hidden in the deep well of his blue gaze. The subtle scent of smoky liquor on his breath swirled between us. “Would you rather I flirt with you?”
His confidence, bordering on arrogance, must have come from having never been toldnoin his entire life. My expression remained unimpressed. “I wouldn’t bother.”
“Right. You’re off-limits.” He smiled down at me, dimples bracketing his mouth like parentheses. I didn’t trust it. “Come down and join me. Please.”
I shook my head. “I’ve traveled all this way pretending to be a widow, and while I probably got away with it, I doubtless won’t be able to continue the charade here. Eating with you wouldn’t be proper—not without my uncle.”
“He’s down there.”
“Why didn’t you say?” I exclaimed.
He abruptly walked out of the room, saying over his shoulder, “I just did.”
With an indignant squawk, I rushed to follow him, only to encounter an empty sitting room. He’d made a mess without my noticing. Subtly moving things around; the throw pillows on the sofa no longer sat in the corner, but the middle; and the corner of the rug had been curled back. Deliberately toed aside. I made a sound of annoyance at the back of my throat.
He was already halfway down the long corridor.
“Oh, and Mr. Hayes?” I called out.
He elegantly swung around, and without checking his stride, walked backward. “What is it?”
I strode after him. “I’d like to know what it was that you were searching for, please.”
Mr. Hayes stilled. “What makes you think I was looking for something?”
His tone was a little too nonchalant. His easy familiarity felt a touch too practiced, his manners the mark of someone who knew just how handsome he was. He was handling me, and trying not to show it. Suspicion pressed close.
“The rug was overturned, the pillows moved.”
“So?”
I stayed silent, his lie hovering between us, creating a palpable tension in the air.
I raised my eyebrow and waited.
He made no comment but regarded me thoughtfully. When it was clear that he wouldn’t give me an answer, I let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Can you wait a moment?” I asked. “I must change.”
He eyed my dress in amusement. “I don’t recallyouwaiting when I asked,” he said with a grin. Then hewinkedat me before resuming his long-legged stride down the corridor. That was the smile I didn’t trust—I just knew it came with consequences. He was the kind of person who could charm someone while robbing them blind.
