Wherever the rare and precious can be found, there are vultures ready to pick over the corpse of historical preservation. Over the centuries, especially on Earth, those vultures had been the first to reach sites of importance, and had left great holes for the archaeologists and historians to puzzle over in their wake. Yet sometimes those precious rarities surfaced in the most unlikely places, snapped up by the "private" collector for their own personal enjoyment. Such things never saw the light of day, were never enjoyed by the descendants of the people who had made them. But sometimes the whispers in the community allowed for the possibility that someone might be able to bring them into the light. Someone with the right connections, the right name ....more importantly, the right bank account.

Isabelle Granger had the right name, the right bank account. Her employer at Canterbury University had the right connections. Combine them all, and Isabelle Granger was invited to a very private auction, hidden away in stately home in the beautiful English countryside. A weekend away, it seemed - two days to peruse the artifacts on the block, and the last day to spend bidding on them, with meals and activities provided for the entertainment of the "guests". She hated that these events even existed, but someone had to go and try to rescue at least some of the history being traded for personal amusement, to bring it back into the light for research and knowledge. She did not know her host, a slightly shady gentleman who went by the name of Alonzo Sisman, yet the invitation had come expressly from him. With the encouragement of the university, she had come, and found herself surrounded by agents and the elite, eager to find something else to hide away behind closed doors and feel smug about owning.

The first day had been filled with comings and goings, with guests arriving and making themselves comfortable, but finally, the doors to the ballroom where the artifacts were displayed had been opened. A black tie event, too, complete with champagne and the promise of a small banquet once the guests had a taste of what was on offer. With a glass in her hand, she moved through the milling guests, expert eyes scanning each item as she passed, looking for something very particular indeed.

There was someone else there perusing those same artifacts and for similar reasons - someone from Isabelle's past, someone she hadn't seen in a long time and would probably rather not see again. The fact that they were both there at the same time was not so strange, all things considered. They both had an interest in rare artifacts and treasures, albeit for different reasons. It was what had brought them together once upon a time, and what had torn them apart. Ryan Jackson, better known to friends as Jax, was not a black tie kind of guy. In fact, he was quite possibly the only man present who wasn't wearing one. Oh, he'd put one on to get past the hulking brute who stood guard at the door, but he'd quickly doffed the damn thing and stuffed it into a pocket before it choked him to death.

He'd already downed two complimentary glasses of champagne, which had gone down a little too easily, and was strolling about, perusing the guests almost as much as he was perusing the artifacts when he saw Her. Her with a capital H. Muttering a favorite unsavory curse word to himself, he ducked behind one of the displays cases and eyed her warily. Why her" Why here and now" But then, this was her kind of gig, and he had a pretty good idea why she was here. Aw, Christ, she was headed his way, and there was no real way to avoid her. She was bound to notice him once the bidding started anyway, so he thought he might as well face the music sooner, rather than later.

Snagging a third glass of champagne, he downed it quickly before popping out from behind the display case, a broad smile on his face. "Izzy! What a surprise! Long time, no see! What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this" Wait - let me guess. A blank check from the university to snatch up whatever catches your eye, right?"

His reception was anything but warm. Isabelle had the uncanny ability to turn frosty on like a switch, and she did it automatically for Him. Oh, yes, he deserved the capital H as well, though it was likely their reasons were not all that similar. Her shoulders straightened as she looked at him, a muscle in her jaw twitched, but when she spoke, it was with blade-sharp sweetness. "Ryan, how charming to see you here," she said with an acid smile. "Tell me ....are you trying to get me thrown out already? This auction is for private collectors, as you well know."

He snorted at her greeting, which was just a little too condescending. Oh, well. He hadn't expected her to be all that welcoming, considering how they'd left things the last time they'd seen each other. He was pretty sure he still had one of her bras stuffed away somewhere, though he wasn't quite sure why he was still hanging onto it. "Nothing private about the university, Izz," he replied, though he made sure to keep his voice down, if only for her benefit. He wasn't there to get her tossed out, at any rate. He took her arm and drew her along, as if they were old friends or colleagues. "So, who is it this time" Professor NotGoodEnoughForYou or HeadUpHisArse?"

Taking her arm was a bad move. It put her in the perfect position to dig her nails in like claws, all the while smiling as though they were old friends. "Do you really suppose I'm going to tell you?" she asked him sweetly. "I would rather rip your balls off and swallow them whole."

"Aw, Izz ....You don't have to rip them off to do that," he told her with an equally sweet, though slightly cocky smile, at least until he felt her nails digging into his arm like claws. Thankfully, he was wearing a jacket. He shook her arm off, a scowl on his face. "Christ, if you want to draw blood, why not just go for the jugular?"

"I believe that the last time we met, I informed you that I never wanted to see you again, and that if I did, you would regret it," she reminded him, taking her hand away from him with a satisfied glint in her eyes. She took a sip of her champagne, watching him all the while. "I think suffering and slow torture is so much more appropriate than a quick death, don't you?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell you never to say never?" he asked, snatching a fourth glass of champagne from a tray as a waiter passed by. "What kind of a gig is this, anyway' Where are the little cucumber sandwiches" Where's the stuffed mushrooms and caviar" Gonna get us all drunk on champagne before the bidding starts," he complained mildly. "There's a fine line between pain and pleasure, you know. I think you're the one who told me that," he said, waggling his brows at her.

"I see you don't change," she said icily. "Still not reading the invitation." She offered a smile to a couple walking by, inclining her head as the man looked her over. She knew that look; she'd been avoiding letting it go beyond looking for years now. "The bidding doesn't start for two days, Ryan. Please, do keep drinking. Perhaps your liver will finally give out on you before the weekend is over." She ignored his comment on their shared past. Well, she seemed to, but there really was no hiding the flush on her skin at the memory the comment provoked.

"What invitation?" he replied, head swiveling to catch the man's look, too, and offering another scowl in return. "Why don't you take a picture" It'll last longer," he suggested, voice dripping with sarcasm and maybe just a little of something else. "Nothing wrong with my liver, Izz," he murmured, taking her arm again to draw her away from the man sending the lecherous looks her way.

"Charming as always," she murmured, allowing herself to be led away. She wasn't entirely sure why she was allowing the conversation to continue. It certainly wasn't because she had missed him, or that she enjoyed his company, it couldn't be. She was still furious with him for the way things had ended, after all. No, she was simply being polite. "How did you manage to get in if you don't have an invitation, dare I ask" Did you, perhaps, seduce the host's wife into letting you play around like a lap dog on a string for the weekend?"

Isabelle smiled confidently. "Mr. Jackson is my fiance, Mr. Sisman," she explained, taking the invitation back. Only the sharpest of eyes would have noted that where her left hand had been bare before she opened her purse, now it wore a sapphire ring on the appropriate finger.

A look of surprise crossed Jax's face, but so briefly as to be hardly noticed, unless someone was looking for it, before it turned into that cocky, over-confident grin of his. He might have pulled Izzy closer but the men flanked him still had hold of his arms. "Thanks, honey. I was just about to mention that. Now, if you don't mind ..." He said, glaring pointedly at Alonzo, his expression turning serious, almost but not quite a threat.

Sisman considered them both for a moment, finally nodding to his companions, who released Jax reluctantly. "I feel I must ask, Miss Granger," he said thoughtfully, as though feeling his way toward the next mistake in their story, "why it is you have taken separate rooms from your fiance?"

Isabelle raised her brow as she looked at him. "We had no wish to offend our host by sharing a room before we are married," she said, as though that were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Ah, of course," Sisman nodded. "Happily, I am not so easily offended. I will have my people move Mr. Jackson's belongings into your rooms, Miss Granger."

Only Jax knew Isabelle well enough to spot the flicker of dismay in her expression before she answered. "You're too kind, Mr. Sisman."

Jax shrugged Alonzo's thugs off, looking just a little put out, though whether he actually felt that way was hard to say. All of this was a ruse, after all, except for the ring. The fact that still owned it and hadn't pawned it for cash shocked him more than anything. Maybe there was a chance for him yet, if he wanted to pursue it. "Kind isn't quite the word I had in mind," he muttered, mostly to himself.

"Shush, love, it's all just a misunderstanding." If Jax was shocked before, he was going to be floored by the way Isabelle eased herself close against his side, tucking her arm about his back as she smiled at him.

Sisman considered them for a moment longer before seeming to nod to himself. "Well, I hope you enjoy your time here, Miss Granger, Mr. Jackson. I hope you leave us with a little something to remember us by."

As he walked away, Isabelle tensed just barely at the very subtle threat, emptying her glass in an attempt to relax again.

Shocked wasn't quite the right word, though for the moment, Jax went along with the ruse, as if nothing was amiss. He smiled and drew an arm around her waist as she tucked herself against his side. The tone of her voice was doing something weird to his insides, but he didn't have time to process what exactly it was. He offered a terse nod in return, glaring at the man's back as he and his thugs walked away. "I don't like that guy. He's up to something, mark my words," he said quietly, only in part to himself.

"He'll be watching us now," Isabelle murmured back, gently steering him about so that he wasn't noticed glaring at their host's back. "There isn't anything incriminating in your bags, is there?" She looked up at Jax expectantly; she did know what he did for a living, after all.

Once he was wearing that glare, it was hard to shake it off. He was clearly annoyed with Alonzo and his goons, but he wasn't entirely surprised. "Not in my bags, no," he replied, without explanation. She probably knew him well enough to know what he meant by that.

"Good." She could feel what wasn't in his rooms hidden under his jacket, anyway. She glanced away briefly, her eyes returning to his face to find him still scowling. "Ryan, stop glaring. People will notice. We're already being watched now, we don't want to draw any more attention."

He did his best to wipe the scowl from his face, but only ended up with a half-annoyed frown in its place. "Suppose I should say thank you," he told her, his gaze lingering on their hosts until he disappeared into the crowd.

"I do believe you're actually a worse actor now than you were when we met," Isabelle sighed, drawing him to one side, out of the milling motion of the crowd. She looked him in the eye sternly. "Get your expression under control, or next time, I will let them rough you up and throw you out, understood?"

Her threat did nothing to soften the expression on his face. He found himself feeling confused where she was confused, but that was nothing new. "I'm trying to say thank you," he told her as she drew him aside. His gaze darted briefly to her left hand before moving back to her face. "I thought you would've gotten rid of that by now," he said, not bothering to explain he was referring to the engagement ring he'd given her once upon a time.

"And I'm trying to point out that unless you relax, there'll be no point in that thank you," she said, rolling her eyes. She did know one way to make him stop glaring, but it wouldn't make the situation any less confusing for either of them. Her gaze flickered down to the ring on her finger. "Just be glad it was here and drop it," she suggested, turning her head to look out through the window to the gardens outside.

"Izzy ..." he started, trailing off with a frown on his face, unsure what to say next. He didn't dare tell her he still loved her; she'd made her own feelings on the matter pretty obvious. He'd tried multiple times to contact her to explain what had happened, and she'd refused to see him, even going so far as to slam the door in his face. She wanted him to drop it, so drop it he did, feeling those old familiar feelings of defeat and hopelessness that were too often connected with her. "You have one bed or two?" he asked, realizing they were going to be stuck with each other for at least a few days now.

Startled by the question, she blinked, looking at him sharply. "One," she told him, concealing her sigh quietly. "And our host has no doubt rigged the rooms with cameras and bugs. He doesn't strike me as a trusting sort of man." Despite her outward appearance of discomfort, however, she was very aware of an old, familiar thrill at the realization that she would be sleeping in his arms again. Not even her carefully constructed blankness could hide the gentle rose tint that colored her cheeks, or the way her expression softened just a little as she held his gaze.

"Cameras and bugs can be found easily enough," he replied quietly, though he knew that wasn't always the case. "So, we have to be careful," he told her, including her in that equation now that he'd inadvertently dragged her into this mess ....again. Wasn't that how all this had began once upon a time" "I'm not here for his entertainment," he added, annoyed at the thought of being watched while in the privacy of their room ....er, her room. His cocky attitude seemed to soften a little at her gaze, knowing she could be his undoing yet again. "I'm sorry I dragged you into all this," he told her, his expression sincere.

"We have to be a couple for the next few days," she nodded, a rueful smile touching her lips - the first truly genuine smile he'd seen from her all evening. "Or we could have an enormous public argument, but I think that would probably result in our host getting to have you beaten up and thrown out." She shook her head at his apology, laying her hand against his chest. "I wasn't dragged, Ryan," she pointed out. "I didn't have to come to your rescue, did I?"

"I said decent, I didn't say good," she pointed out, rolling her eyes at him as she smiled. "You're a coffee snob, Ryan Jackson." She paused as they reached the carvery, handing her plate over to the chef who was carving the meat before taking it back to add her choice of vegetables to her plate and drowning the whole lot in gravy.

"Guilty as charged," Jax replied with a chuckle. If she was anyone else, he might have scolded her for calling him by his first name. No one called him Ryan but her and his mother. To everyone else, he was just Jax. He, too, was a carnivore by choice, figuring he was only going to live once, so he might as well enjoy it - cholesterol be damned. He filled his plate almost to match hers, though his choice of vegetables was slim to none. At least, he didn't smoke. That was one thing going for him.

They didn't have much choice but to make small talk while they were eating - despite the sheer size of the dining room, it still felt very cramped around the tables that had been set up for the guests to eat at. Still, small talk was something Isabelle was surprisingly good at, and even though they had garnered negative attention for their interaction with Sisman earlier, the others who ate at their table came away from the meal with a glowing opinion of Mr. Jackson and his fiancee.

Jax wasn't stupid. He knew very well how to play this game, but he also knew it was mostly Izzy's quick thinking and outgoing personality that saved the dinner during dinner, even if he had found most of their companions dull and their conversation boring. Once his stomach's appetite was satisfied, however, and they'd indulged in as much free food and drink as they dared, it was time to make their excuses.

With the other guests choosing to go their own ways as well, it wasn't difficult to make their excuses and slip outside. Though summer had arrived, the night air was chilly, but Isabelle didn't comment on it, falling into step with Jax as they made their way between the perfectly groomed flowerbeds. "No one followed us?"

"Not that I noticed," he replied, turning to look around. It would be hard to have cameras in a garden, especially since it had grown dark since nightfall, and he was pretty sure he would have noticed if Alonzo's thugs had planted a bug on him.

"I trust your eyes better than mine when it comes to that," she admitted, turning a corner into a tunnel that seemed constructed entirely of trees trained to form a canopy overhead. But she didn't know where to start. They might not have a lot of history, but what they did have was intense.

He wasn't sure if the setting was romantic or not, but it didn't really matter. After three years of silence, she was actually willing to have a conversation with him again. Maybe he should thank Alonzo for that. He noticed the chill in the air and that she wasn't exactly dressed for it and shrugged off his coat to place it around her shoulders, revealing the Glock he wore tucked beneath it, but hoping it was too dark for anyone but her to notice. "You look cold."

She jumped, startled to find his arm about her shoulders, even if he was just settling his jacket about her, still warm from his own body. Sliding her arms into the sleeves, she smiled in the shadow-dappled darkness. "Thank you," she said softly. "I forgot how naturally being a gentleman comes to you."

He shrugged, unsure how true that really was, except when it came to her, but too proud to deny it. Now that they were alone, he wasn't quite sure where to begin, and he felt sort of like an awkward teenager on his first date with the girl of his dreams. "It's the least I can do."

They were both as awkward as each other, it seemed, neither one knowing quite where to start but knowing it had to happen if they were going to have any hope of pulling this off for the next couple of days. One thing Isabelle had learned from her siblings, however, was to jump in and get it over with. "I could call it sentiment, but I'd be lying," she said, rubbing her finger over the sapphire ring on her hand. "I just ....I didn't want to get rid of it. It was proof that you loved me, once. I needed that proof."

On the contrary, he thought that was pretty sentimental, though he didn't say so. He lifted his brows, more than a little surprised by her confession and wondering if maybe she didn't really detest him after all. "What makes you think I don't still feel the same?" he asked, not quite brave enough to use the L word just yet.

The look she gave him would have been deadly if she had been angrier. As it was, her expression was dull with painful heartbreak. "Because you jilted me," she reminded him harshly. "You let me be humiliated in front of our friends. How do you do that to someone you love?"

He frowned, knowing she was going to bring that up, but disappointed she hadn't figured the truth out for herself by now. "If you really think I'd do that to you, you don't know me as well as I thought you did," he said, knowing he could be a jerk sometimes - hell, a lot of the time - but why the hell would he propose and give her a ring that cost a small fortune if only to get cold feet and stand her up at the altar"

"I thought I knew you," she countered, making an effort to keep her voice down. "I thought you knew me. Any other way, I could have handled. A note in the morning, a phone call, a text, even ....anything to tell me that you wouldn't be there, that something had come up, or that you couldn't do it. But no. The man I loved left me to wait for two hours before realizing he wouldn't show up, to break the news to our guests, and to play host at what should have been our reception, knowing full well that everyone there was laughing at me. Icy Bella, remember" No wonder Jax didn't show, she's impossible to love. I don't have much but my pride, Ryan, and I lost it that day. Why the hell do you think I came to England" I couldn't get away from the whispers in America."

He wasn't sure if what he was feeling was anger, disappointment, or wounded pride at her accusation, but he was once again reminded of the pain he'd felt at her flat refusal to listen to any explanation he'd tried to offer following his absence at their wedding. "And it never occurred to you even once to give me the benefit of the doubt. That maybe - just maybe - something had happened to keep me from you. Something I had no control of. And then, when I tried to explain, you refused to listen. You assumed the worst and you gave up on me, Izzy, and by giving up on me, you gave up on us. I know I'm not perfect. Hell, I'm a long way from perfect, but I didn't stand you up on purpose," he said, letting her think on that before he went any further.

"You think I don't regret the way I behaved?" she snapped, still keeping her voice low, but the sound was almost a snarl. "You think I don't know how badly I behaved" I know I screwed everything up, all right' I know it was my fault we never managed to move on from that. I know I'm an arrogant, stubborn, stupid, self-centered, egotistical shit on a stick, and there is nothing you can say to me that will hurt me any more than I already do for those weeks and months. I needed to be angry, Ryan, and I held onto it. I needed to be angry and I needed not to come running back to you. I thought you knew me well enough to know that writing it down would have been safer than trying to talk to me face to face. No, I'm not perfect either, I'm far from perfect. There's nothing anyone can say to me that I haven't said to myself, but if it makes you feel any better, go on. Throw all the abuse I threw at you back in my face. It isn't like I don't deserve it."

She should have expected that. Caught up in his arms, the kiss smothered her laughter as she felt the personal horizon shift, throwing her arms around him as she fought to stifle to soft moan that rose in response to the way he handled her. He knew she was proud, he knew she had boundaries that extended far beyond her own physical form, and yet he knew exactly how to reach beyond them to touch the tender girl still hiding in there. Well, she had asked to be mussed, and he was certainly doing just that, but being mussed was the furthest thing from her mind right now. Jax really had touched a chord, and whether or not they were watched, if they stayed this close, they would get closer still.

If anyone doubted they were a couple, that kiss should alleviate all doubt. What Jax hadn't considered though was what Alonzo would think of them actually being partners. Were they more likely to make their acquisition alone or together, and to complicate matters further, each was obligated to two entirely different parties for the very same item. But Jax wasn't really thinking with his brain right now, but another part of his anatomy.

Breathless, Isabelle clung to him, trading kisses back and forth, hungry for more. She'd been without him for too long, untouched and unwanted, and he was right there, vital and longing in her arms. "We ....not in the garden ..."

Not in their room apparently either, though he had a thought or two about that. "Yes, dear," he replied, touching a final kiss to her lips before righting her on her feet. Just how he managed to hold her there for so long was a mystery, even to him, but he pulled her back up seemingly effortlessly.

She bit his lower lip gently for that, grinning as she tried to catch her breath. "Don't call me dear, makes me sound like my mother," she warned him, holding on a moment longer to steady herself before trying to ease away. One hand slid into his, fingers entwining. "You've been working out."

"There is definitely nothing matronly about you," he told her, wrapping his larger hand around hers, a teasing twinkle in his eyes. Oh, she was a distraction, but a distraction of the very best kind. He answered her other remark with a dismissive shrug of his shoulders, "A little," he said, unwilling to admit to the reasons behind his effort to get a little fitter. Like everything else in his life, even that was complicated.

"I don't think I want to know why, do I?" she asked with a low laugh, drawing him out of the shadows and into the view of the manor house. Others who were taking the night air took one look at her disheveled hair and flushed cheeks, and turned away, sharing knowing smiles with one another.

Either he still had it - whatever it was - or she was deserving of an Oscar. Either way, it was a convincing performance, but even more so because it was real. "Probably not," he replied, a brief frown on his face as he considered her question. He wondered if they were partners now or if they were competitors, already knowing that he'd probably let her have the damned scarab and let the chips fall where they may.

Drawing his arm over her shoulders, her fingers still entangled with his, she chuckled, steering him along the paths and back into the house itself. Guests were still milling about, but the ballroom was locked and guarded for the night. Alonzo Sisman was taking no risks with the treasures up for auction. "Let's find out how much of my underwear has gone missing in the luggage switchover, shall we?" Isabelle said impishly, deliberately loud enough for the heavies on the ballroom doors to hear, and was rewarded with a blush from one of them. So they'd been through her belongings, too.

"Possession is nine-tenths of the law," he reminded her, though they weren't in the States. Of course, here, Alonzo's rules were all that really mattered, and he'd already broken a few. He draped his arm lazily over her shoulder, fingers locked with hers, feeling as proud as a peacock to be back in her good graces.

"Does that mean you only intend to possess nine-tenths of me?" she asked with a faint grin as they moved to mount the wide staircase, one hand holding her skirt out of the way of the stiletto sharp shoes on her feet. "Dare I ask what the other tenth did to offend you?"

"Took too long coming to your senses," he replied with a teasing grin, but he was only blaming one-tenth of her, so it hardly mattered. He wasn't quite sure how she managed to walk in those things, but they sure as hell looked good on her, so who was he to argue. And if she tripped? Well, he'd be right there to catch her.

She stuck her tongue out at him, leading the way along a plushly carpeted hallway to her own room. The key came out of her purse, and she unlocked the door, drawing him inside by his collar, close enough to murmur. "Sweep the room, baby, or you're gonna be mooning the mafia tonight."

"You sure know to talk dirty," he murmured back, kicking the door closed behind him. Now that they were alone, he really didn't want to waste any time, but then, they weren't really alone until he found every bug Alonzo had had hidden in here during their luggage swap.

She laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips once more before slipping past him to lock the door, leaving the key inserted in case of unwanted visitors. Jax's luggage had been brought to the room, his suitcase set beside hers at the foot of the four poster bed that dominated the room. But they weren't alone, and that meant no relaxing just yet. Isabelle sighed as she moved over to the bed, pulling the pins out of her hair to let the long length fall free. "God, I hate being on my best behavior."

"Then don't be," he told her quite simply, checking to make sure the door was locked - not that it mattered, since Alonzo had the keys anyway - and moving slowly around the room, checking all the best hiding places for bug and cameras large and small. They were going to have to make small talk until he found them all and small talk had never been one of their strong points.

She laughed, good at playing this part. They'd had to do it a few times in their shared past, and they knew from experience that all eyes behind the cameras would be riveted on her as she slipped out of her shoes, as she removed her jewelry, waiting for what else would be removed. "We're not likely to make many connections if I don't behave myself properly, love," she pointed out. "Mr. Sisman is already upset with us because I didn't announce you as my guest when I arrived."

Jax was more concerned with the cameras than the bugs, since he needed to get rid of the cameras first so that he could move around looking for the bugs without anyone seeing him doing it. He surveyed the room a moment, debating where he'd hide a camera if he wanted to hide one.

Rising from where she sat, Isabelle opened her luggage, pulling out her robe and nightwear as she waited for an indication of where the camera might be. "I wonder what activities they'll have for us tomorrow," she babbled cheerfully, sounding for all the world like a tired young woman who was genuinely excited about the weekend away. Setting the robe down, she went for the distraction technique, hoping it wasn't going to work on Jax, too. Hiking her gown's skirt high, she started to undo her suspenders, rolling her stockings down with deliberate care.

"Oh, probably more food and drink and enter ..." He broke off, either because he'd just found something or because he'd glanced over to find her doing a slow striptease for whoever was watching. Unwilling to share that view with anyone, much less Alonzo's goons, he scowled over at her and gestured toward the mirror, where he'd found the first camera hidden. "Baby, if you keep that up, we won't be leaving the room tomorrow."

"Well, I doubt they're going to get much out of listening to us tonight, anyway," she murmured, leaning a hip against the sink as she opened up the catalogue to flip through it, looking for the item she was pretty sure they were both here for. "Bloody hell," she breathed, shocked by the description. "They don't even know what they have."

He was almost disappointed she wanted to talk business, instead of pleasure, but he had to admit they needed to talk about it before it became a point of contention between them. "Look," he started, not even having to look over her shoulder to see what item she was discussing. "My buyer is prepared to to outbid anyone and everyone. I'm under contract to bring it back, no matter the cost," he told her, knowing that wasn't going to go over well with her, but at least he was being honest.

"Maybe if you told me who you were working for, we might be able to avoid an argument altogether," she pointed out, turning to face him, hands on her hips. Without her shoes on, she had lost several inches, which meant this wasn't the most effective position to be bargaining from, mere inches from him and her lips still swollen from their kisses.

It was one of those bring it back or don't ever come back kind of deals he knew only too well, but at least, no one was threatening his life about it. "It's legit, Izzy, I swear," he told her, reluctant to admit who had hired him without being sure he'd found all the bugs. He frowned and chewed at his lip as he looked down from his height to meet her gaze. It it wasn't so serious, it might have been comical. He hesitated a moment before leaning in to whisper, "Think big. Really big."

"Like ..." She eased close, brushing her cheek along his until her lips touched his ear. "Egyptian government big?" she breathed, knowing only he could possibly hear her, and even then, only if he was paying attention.

"Bingo," he whispered back, without hesitation. He was impressed she'd guessed it on the first try, but not really surprised. He would have been more surprised if she hadn't guessed it correctly. That said, it went without saying that he wasn't going to be able to let her and the university have it.

"We were going to give it to them anyway," she whispered back. "Pretty sure we can outbid anyone together." Her hands had abandoned the catalogue to undo his holster, a little too familiar with how to disarm him.

Admittedly, she knew how to disarm both of his "guns", but business before pleasure once again. "That sort of makes us partners, Izz. Are you okay with that?" he asked, a playful smirk on his face, only to happy to let her "disarm" him.

She shrugged. "The ultimate goal is the same," she conceded. "Although if the scarab does not show up in Egypt after you get your hands on it, rest assured I will hunt you down and make you regret it." From a beautiful woman, it should have been a laughable threat. From Isabelle, it was a promise.

"Why don't you come with me when I hand it over?" he countered, a slightly smug smile on his face. Had he just invited her to join him in Egypt' You bet your ass he did, and he was looking forward to seeing her reaction to that, even as he reached around her back to finish unzipping her dress.

She gasped, half shocked by his invitation, half stimulated by the slow peel of velvet from her back as he drew her zipper down. "I haven't been to Egypt in years," she murmured, and there was a longing in her voice ....not for him, though that was definitely there, but for the land of the Pharaohs, her favorite place on Earth.

"That's settled, then," he said, dismissing any further talk of work with a toe-curling kiss while he pushed the velvet fabric away from her shoulders, leaning her precariously closer to the bathtub. So far, it had been a good evening, as evenings go. They'd just become partners, they were engaged again, and if he was lucky, he was about to get laid.

"Settl-" But he cut her off before she could object, and to be truthful, she did not want to object. Yes, he was presumptuous and arrogant, but then, so was she. As her gown fell to hang at her waist, she raised her arms to wrap them about his shoulders, for once just letting something happen. He'd catch her if she fell, in every sense of the word.

He toed off his shoes, because who wants to make love with their shoes on, while his lips were busy exploring her mouth, and his hands were busy trying to get that dress off her. Multi-tasking wasn't exactly his strong suit, or maybe it was all the champagne - just as her dress at last pooled around her ankles, he lost his balance and went into the tub with a splash, taking her with him.

Well, at least he hadn't taken the $800 dress with them. Isabelle's shriek reverberated off the tiled walls, followed by her spluttering laughter as she found herself underneath the water and on top of him, and enjoying a wet t-shirt kind of view that didn't come around very often at all. "I've never heard of a fellow getting so hard he displaced his own center of gravity before."

Like her dress, thankfully, they hadn't taken his $800 Glock with them into the shower either. He had the safety on, but that wasn't the issue. It was the fact that the Glock was his insurance policy, and the only one he'd brought with him. One thing was certain, if Alonzo's thugs were still listening, they weren't going to hear anything too incriminating. It was almost too bad they'd taken the cameras down as the look on his face when he'd found himself in the tub with her on top of him was priceless. He sputtered, soaked to the skin, before grinning up at her, and pushing a wet tendril away from her face. "It's because I'm so big."

Isabelle snorted with laughter, nuzzling to him with something that was almost affection. "I'm surprised I'm even in the water then, if you're that big," she teased quietly. "Shouldn't I be balancing on the tip somewhere up here?"

"I don't recall you ever complaining," he pointed out, letting his gaze slide over her barely-dressed and very wet body. "Just as sexy as ever, Miss Granger," he told her. "Am I gonna have to beat off the competition?"

She bit her lip, fighting to hold in a low moan as he looked her over. There was something wrong, something that didn't feel right ....Isabelle shook her head, guilt written over her features as she met his eyes. "I can't," she whispered regretfully, leaning down to stroke her fingers against his cheek. "It's this place. I don't feel safe."

There was that scowl again. "Oh, come on. I just spent the better part of an hour making sure we have privacy, and you don't feel safe" What's not safe about it' Alonzo isn't gonna do shit. You know why?" he asked her, continuing without waiting for a response. "Because when it really boils down to it, all Alonzo cares about is money. It doesn't matter who hired us. All that matters is the money," he said, reaching over to turn the water off. It looked like he was going to get a cold shower, after all. "I'm half tempted to steal the damn thing just to spite him."

"I'm sorry ..." But this wasn't an apology, as evidenced by the offended look on her face as she sat up, frowning down at him. "Who died and made you the arbiter of what I can and cannot feel" I don't remember you being selfish enough not to give a shit how I was feeling, but obviously I'm wrong." She scowled down at him, rising to get out of the tub, dripping everywhere. "Buy yourself a Fleshlight, it'll screw you whenever you want and not ask you for an emotional commitment, or even understanding."

"None of this is your fault, Ryan," she pointed out to him. "And it isn't because of you." Sighing, she set her book and glasses aside, laying her hand gently on his thigh. "Look, even if you weren't here, even if we hadn't had that little scene downstairs, I still wouldn't feel safe here. Honestly' I have no idea why I was invited, specifically, and it makes me nervous. I don't know what he thinks he's going to get out of having me here. But for what it's worth ....I feel safer knowing you're here with me than I would if I was on my own."

"I thought you were here to represent the university," Jax replied, a little confused. Her hand on his thigh was distracting to say the least, but he did his best to focus on what she was trying to tell him. "He's obviously invited those he thinks are most likely to bid on the items up for auction, which, by the way, begs the question of how he obtained them in the first place."

"No, the invitation came directly to me," she told him quietly. "No mention of the university at all. As for the items on auction, well ....it's pretty obvious they've been illegally obtained. There's no provenance for anything in that catalogue. And I know for a fact that the scarab was looted, because the British Museum has the headpiece it was broken from."

"And I'm crashing his party," he added. Though he didn't really care what Alonzo Sisman thought about that him personally, he realized why the man was so paranoid about him being there at all. It surprised him a little that the man didn't seem to know who he was, but he figured that would change by morning. At least he wouldn't suspect him of being a cop.

"Well, you're not crashing anymore," she pointed out with a faint smile. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm on edge anyway, and you know how that goes. Even the smallest thing could set me off."

"It's okay. I guess I shouldn't have assumed," he told her, making a vague apology of his own. He touched a kiss to her temple before getting to his feet. "Guess I better clean up the mess and put some pants on," he said, lingering a moment longer, just in case she changed her mind.

Her eyes narrowed in amusement as she smiled at him, leaning closer just long enough to kiss him softly. "Nice try," she complimented him softly. "It's only two nights. We can finish reuniting when we're a long way from here." She tweaked his nose gently as she leaned back, reaching behind herself to pull the covers down from under her backside.

"You're lucky you're so cute," he told her, mirroring her smile. He almost had control of himself again, though he wasn't sure he could be blamed for what happened once they were lying beside each other in bed. Then again, he was a full-grown man, not a pubescent teenager. "When we're done here, we're gonna spend a week in bed, just you and me," he warned her as he made his way back into the bathroom.

"Then I shall leave it to you to phone in sick for me," she called back to him, slipping out of bed briefly to turn off the main light. "I'm sure my colleagues would be delighted with whatever excuse you manage to come up with." Smiling to herself at the thought of what she might be doing to him when he made that call, she wriggled under the quilt once again, sighing as she relaxed comfortably.

"It's called vacation. You do get vacation time, don't you?" he called back as he gathered up the wet laundry and hung it over the shower curtain to dry. As for himself, he was "self-employed", so he could take time off whenever he wanted and whenever he could afford to do so, which admittedly wasn't very often.

"With notice, yes," she laughed, turning her head toward the bathroom as they spoke. "Besides, wouldn't you want me to keep that time for this trip you've decided we're going on?" Rolling onto her side, she propped her head up, genuinely curious as to what his answer was going to be.

"To Eg ..." He caught himself before he mentioned the destination out loud, just in case they had missed any listening devices. "We could make it a honeymoon, you know," he added, his voice muffled a little as he moved about the bathroom.

"Still rushing things a little, don't you think?" she called back, wary of allowing him to think that everything was just as it was after a single conversation. "I really should tell my family first. I'm talking to them again now."

Nothing but silence came from the bathroom. Whether he was disappointed or just considering her question was uncertain. He turned the water on to brush his teeth before realizing he'd forgotten his toothbrush and came storming back out of the bathroom looking annoyed, the towel still wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp but drying into a wavy mess about his head. "You'd think a place like this would have provided complimentary toothbrushes," he said, as he rifled through his bag for something.

"It's not a hotel, Ryan," she pointed out in amusement. "You can borrow mine, you know, you don't need to do anything creative with a stick and toilet paper. Last time I checked, you didn't have anything orally transmissible."

"If I do, I just gave it to you," he muttered, as he rummaged in his bag. It wasn't a toothbrush he was rummaging around for but a pair of boxers - his pajamas of choice - and in that moment, it occurred to him just how very different they were. Her - capital H again - with her fancy silk pajamas and him in his boxers. She was caviar to his hamburger; a Mercedes to his Chevrolet. They couldn't be more different if they tried, and yet, maybe that was what made it work.

"All right." It seemed, at least on the outside, as though he was determined to be grumpy, and Izzy wasn't in the mood to play along. She was unsettled and edgy, and if she was honest, it wasn't entirely because of their host. It was being around Him again, being nervous of making a mistake again, knowing it wouldn't take much for her to forget her reservations and let him have his way with her right here. But he'd always had that power over her; that was virtually how they'd ended up together in the first place - she'd been naive, certainly, but he'd exuded masculine confidence and sheer, unadulterated enticement, too. Rolling onto her back briefly, she sighed before rolling again, setting her back to the empty side of the bed and turning out the bedside light.

He knew he was being difficult, ridiculous, impossible even. It wasn't so much the rejection in the shower anymore as it was her insistence that they needed to get to know each other again. What the hell for" He didn't need to think about it or get reacquainted to know he loved her. And yet, maybe she was right. Here it was, only a few hours since they'd accidentally stumbled into each other, and they were already arguing. If she'd asked, he'd have said it was her who had the power over him. Her who always seemed to find a way to get under his skin, even after three years apart. He had always tried to please her, and yet, he'd always felt like he wasn't quite good enough for her.

That wasn't her fault, but his, and yet, he always felt like he should have tried harder. He found his shorts and traded them for the towel, skipping the toothbrushing ritual. It seemed they weren't going to be making love, anyway. There was an awkward moment where he felt like he should apologize, but he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for. For wanting to be with her? For being impatient' Well, hell, three years was a long time to wait for someone, and though he'd yet to admit it, he'd had an empty hole in his heart without her.