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)
Setting a finger to his lips, he unlocked the door and motioned for me to enter a cavernous room with high ceilings and a tile floor lit by a small library-style lamp that cast a wide yellow-y circle on the table but did nothing to illuminate the space. Neither did the large windows covered with blackout shades.
I had two minutes, tops, before I suffocated.
“Hello, Raine. Was I expecting you today?” The deep timbre of a masculine voice rumbled through me, rooting me in place.
A second later, I nearly jumped out of my skin. A large man with wild dark hair and thick glasses cleared his throat and meandered to the table littered with…stuff. I couldn’t make out his features or tell what had his attention in the dim lighting, but damn, I was suddenly very curious.
“Yes, Professor C. I wanted to introduce you to my very best friend, Winnie Rodriguez. He’s going to be traveling with you to Paris tomorrow. I thought it would be better to meet here than at the train station for the first time.” Raine tapped my arm. “Winnie, this is Professor Alistair Creighton. Professor C, this is Win.”
I put on my friendliest smile and stepped forward with my hand outstretched. “Enchanté, monsieur.”
The professor moved out of the shadows, blinking at me like an owl, and geez Louise…Alistair Creighton was hot.
He was a bear of a man, approximately my height but thicker all over with a lightly stubbled jaw, full lips, a straight nose, and bushy eyebrows. I would have done a double take on the street, and that wasn’t just a commentary on his beefcake appeal. The guy buzzed with the kind of energy associated with passionate people driven by an internal fire.
In his case, I supposed it was all things Ancient Egypt.
I studied the professor’s floppy brown hair, broad shoulders, and sexy forearms visible where he’d pushed up the sleeves of his oversized, nondescript sweater. His khakis were a size too big, and the tips of his shoes were hopelessly scuffed as if he’d dragged them on the floor. But those minor fashion faux pas suited the academic vibe and did nothing to detract from his obvious good looks.
His rapid-fire speech in French pulled me back to reality.
“Bonjour. C’est un plaisir de vous rencontrer. Je n’ai pas—”
“Ohh, no, no. I don’t speak French. Not really. I’ve been practicing a few phrases and ‘enchanté’ is one of them,” I admitted with a laugh. “I can also order us croissants, beignets, coffee, and wine. We’re all set, honey.”
The professor’s deep frown and blank stare gave me the distinct impression that he hadn’t understood a word I’d said. In English.
“Very well. Good to meet you,” Professor Creighton replied absently before addressing my friend. “Raine, you must see this. I’m fairly certain it’s Ammit. Not a great rendering, mind, but if you look closely, you can see the crocodile head. There’s evidence of hieroglyphics at the base. Rather badly faded. See here.”
Raine leaned in to examine the rock—yes, it was a fucking rock—and oohed in appreciation. “Incredible.”
I approached the table, watching their interaction with amused fascination. I’d always known Raine was a geek, but I rarely got to see it in action. It was cute. However, I had absolutely nothing to add to the conversation.
While they spoke animatedly about their rock, I strolled the perimeter of the dark room, pausing to read titles of the leather-bound books on the shelves. Gods and Pharaohs, The Rise and Fall of the Empire, Ramses II, Rituals and Beliefs. I wondered if the professor had read all of them, and my eyes widened a moment later.
Holy shit. He’d written some of these books.
Okay, it was official. I hadn’t felt this out of place since I’d shown up to class in leg warmers and neon-green sunglasses in my single-handed attempt to bring back the eighties at Oakwood Elementary. I’d failed miserably, and had even gotten uninvited to Misty Martinez’s co-ed birthday party.
Side rant: That tiny episode had marked the first time I’d been actively cognizant of being shunned for being…me. See, Misty had regretfully informed me that her parents weren’t comfortable with my kind, and I’d had no idea what that meant. What was my kind? How was I different? I liked bright colors and fun prints. Why was that bad?
No doubt it had happened a gazillion times in little ways before that day, and I’d just been blissfully unaware. Now I knew, and I’d immediately realized there was nothing I could do to change their views without becoming one of them, and that wasn’t going to happen.
I was a nonconformist to my very marrow. I didn’t know how to fit in. If the dress code was black, you bet I added some sparkle. If the occasion called for a song or a dance, I wanted a diva anthem and I wanted to choreograph that bit of genius myself.