Relentless by Cherry Adair Read Free Book Online Page A

darkening evening sky, the city lights twinkling in a beautiful sparkly blanket as far as the eye could see. She hadn’t been to London in several years, and she was eager to get out and explore before they got down to some serious work at the museum the next day.
    No matter how pricey the hotel, she didn’t want to spend the evening alone in her room. It gave her too much time to think. She was worried about her father. His health hadn’t been good since he’d returned from Cairo, and while his Alzheimer’s prevented him from being aware she was gone, she liked to check on himevery day. Had she missed something? As confused as he was about the circumstances of his “accident,” had he given her clues to Cleo’s tomb that she hadn’t picked up on? Her father loved puzzles, and the more obtuse and confusing the better.
    She’d searched his apartment in Seattle a dozen times looking for anything that might lead her to his last find. Isis believed that he’d discovered Cleo’s final resting place this time. He’d found his life’s work, and it was a cruel irony of fate that now he didn’t remember exactly where he’d been.
    No one would believe he’d done what he’d promised. It was up to her to close the circle of her father’s brilliant legacy while there was still time.
    Before his death. And before someone else claimed the historic discovery for themselves.
    Where the frick are you, “Just Thorne?”
    He was from London, so she presumed he had friends there. Was some girlfriend reaping the benefits of her warm-up? The thought annoyed her no end. Holding the drapes aside, she swore under her breath. He was no monk. And she’d made her position clear—he was well within his rights to do whatever he pleased with whomever he wanted to please.
    That didn’t mean Isis had to like it.
    Blasted man.
    She’d showered, ordered the cheapest thing on the room service menu, and eaten a solitary and too early dinner. The evening stretched out before her like a thick blank notebook.
    To hell with him. She was in no mood to watch a movie at inflated hotel rates, and she had, as her grandmother was wont to say, ants in her pants—although she was pretty sure Nana hadn’t meant it in quite the same way. Or maybe she had; her Nana had been a spitfire until the day she died last year, at ninety-two.
    Yes. Ants in her pants. Hot to trot. Horny.
    She hadn’t meant the kiss to get that heated that fast. She’d offered a comforting hand, and he’d taken it as the offer not of her arm, but of her entire body. He was an awesome kisser. First-class. And Isis imagined he’d be an equally spectacular lover. God only knew, she wanted the infuriating man, but they’d known each other five minutes, for goodness’ sake. One of them had to be sensible.
    She could be sensible while she was kissing him, Isis decided. She could allow herself to lose her head a little with him, but she decided not to qualify exactly how much and how far a “little” kiss would take her.
    But she was not going to sit waiting for any man in a hotel room when she was in an exciting city that was just waiting to be explored. The swanky room was all about the large, inviting bed. The farther away she was from beds when with “Just Thorne,” the easier it would be for her to maintain a safe distance. He was temptation personified, but as much as she was intrigued and as much as she wanted to kiss him some more, they had a business relationship. She didn’t want to muddy the waters when she’d invested everything she had on the chance that he could tell her where to find Cleo’s tomb.
    Sex, no matter how tempting, was out.
    Pulling her red Windbreaker out of the closet, Isis grabbed her camera bag and slung it across her body. It doubled as a purse, and was rarely out of her sight. Tucked in next to her precious Canon 5D Mark II was some walking-around cash, a credit card that was almost maxed out, and her keycard. She let herself out of the room