Susan Mallery - Dream Wedding

“Don’t you have some gems you want to show me?” she asked in an effort to change the subject.

“Absolutely.” He led the way down the hall toward the exhibit hall.

She fell into step with him. “You’re not what I expected,” she admitted.

“So you’ve been doing your homework. Did you think I’d be more scholarly?”

“No, although I’m sure you’re the expert everyone claims. I guess I didn’t think you’d be just a regular guy. I try not to form too much of an impression of someone before I meet him. I don’t want to be writing the article in my head too early. But in your case, that was more difficult than usual. There’s a mythical element to your press clippings.”

“Tell me about it.” He stopped suddenly and turned to face her. “Despite the press trying to make it seem otherwise, I’m not Harrison Ford or Indiana Jones.” His mouth twisted. “I can’t tell you how many times those comparisons have been made.”

“How often do you come out ahead?”

“Good question.” His features relaxed a little. “We’re running about fifty-fifty. You wouldn’t believe the people who have trouble understanding that he’s an actor portraying a fictional character. What happens in the movies has very little to do with real life. But people have expectations.”

“You don’t want to disappoint them,” she said guessing.

“Of course not. But I’m not a larger-than-life character. Who can compete with a movie legend? This is real life. I don’t get a second take to make sure the line is said just right.”

“I would guess that the fans who most want you to be like Indiana Jones are the ladies,” she said.

He groaned. “They bring me hats like his. And whips.”

Chloe wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I see.”

He winked. “Of course some of them have been quite satisfied with reality.”

I certainly was.

She jumped. Had she said that or just thought it? Her gaze flew to his face. He was watching her expectantly. Her heart, which had stumbled a couple of beats, resumed its steady thudding. She must have just thought it. Thank goodness. Arizona could never know about that night—or her dreams.

“Chloe, I’m sorry. I was just teasing. If it bothers you, I’ll stop.”

His statement didn’t make sense for a second. Then she realized she’d been quiet and he probably thought she’d been insulted by his comment. “It’s fine,” she told him.

He shrugged. “Seriously, there was a time when I enjoyed all the press and comparisons. I worked hard to live up to the hype.”

“A girl in every port?”

“Something like that.”

“What happened?”

“I grew up. It got old. I’ve learned that quality is the most important part of a relationship.”

That surprised her. “So you’re a romantic at heart?”

He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. “Yes. But not the way you mean it. If you’re asking if I believe in love, the answer is no.”

That didn’t make sense. “You said you believe in magic.”

“Of course. One doesn’t have anything to do with the other. Magic exists. Love is the myth.”

“No way. I’ve never seen magic at work, but you only have to look around to know love is everywhere. Parents and their children, couples who have been together fifty years, kids with their pets. How can you deny all that evidence?”

He stepped toward the wide double doors that led to the exhibit. “It’s surprisingly easy,” he said, pulled a key from his pocket, turned the lock and pushed open the right door.

As she moved to step inside, she was instantly assaulted by cool air. The light was even more dim inside, with only an illuminated path to guide them. A shiver rippled up her spine, but this one was from nerves, not attraction. Chloe instinctively fingered the heart-shaped locket she wore around her neck.

“This way,” Arizona said with the confidence of someone who could see in the dark.

They’d taken about two steps when a voice stopped them. “You can’t come in here,” a man said. “The exhibit isn’t open yet.” Seconds later a bright light shone in her eyes, blinding her.

“It’s okay, Martin,” Arizona said. “This is Chloe Wright. She’s a journalist. I brought her by to show her the exhibit.”

The light clicked off and a security guard stepped out of the shadows. “Oh, sorry, Dr. Smith. I didn’t know it was you.” The fiftysomething man smiled. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will, Martin, thanks.”

When they were alone again, Arizona motioned to the dark draperies on either side of the lit path. “The entrance is going to have blown-up photographs showing some of the ruins, that sort of thing. Robert Burton, a friend of mine, is composing appropriate music. Whatever the hell that means.”

Chloe chuckled with him. “Probably something with a South American flavor.”

“Probably.”

They continued down the walkway toward bright lights. Dark drapes gave way to glass cases exhibiting tools, bowls and animal hides fashioned into primitive clothing. Arizona briefly explained the significance of the items.

“I constantly offend my colleagues,” he admitted, not looking the least bit concerned by the fact. “I know I should be interested in this kind of thing.” He motioned to a row of cutting knives. “They are the basis for understanding how a people lived day by day. But I’m a true romantic. I find the living more interesting than the dead, even the long-dead, and I prefer magic to reality. I don’t care what they used to skin their kill. I want to know how they prepared for the hunt. I want to learn the rituals and hear the songs.” He shrugged. “As I’m frequently reminded, religion and magic have their place, but a good knife in the hands of a skilled hunter can keep a family alive for the winter.”

Chloe studied the honed cutting edges. “But religion feeds them as well—their souls rather than their bodies. That has to count for something.”

“Exactly.”

Arizona beamed at her as if she were a rather dull student who had finally come up with the right answer. She barely noticed, being too busy wondering where on earth that thought had come from. She was way too pragmatic to be concerned about the state of anyone’s soul.

“I’m glad you see my point,” he told her. “However, there are a few people I can’t seem to convince. They’re much more into the physical than the spiritual. We need to go through here.”

He led the way into a brightly lit alcove. There was a closed door at the far end. He knocked once. Another security guard stepped out. “Yes, Dr. Smith?”

“Jimmy, I made arrangements to show Ms. Wright the gem collection. You ready to unlock the cases for me?”

The guard, a young man of Chloe’s age, nodded seriously. “Yes, sir. Let me get the keys and disable the alarm.”

When he disappeared back into the room, Arizona winked at her. “Jimmy is in charge of the gems. He’s very proud of that. He’ll be accompanying us. With him around, we can unlock the cases and you can actually touch the stones.”

“I’d like that.” She stared at him. “How long have you been in town?”

“A couple of days. Why?”

“You seem to know everyone’s name. Or is that just a habit with security guards?”

“I told you. I’m interested in the living.”

Jimmy joined them, cutting off any further chance for conversation. He led the way to the last room. The walls were plain black. Tall glass cases formed a staggered line down the center. Spotlights illuminated their precious cargo.

Arizona nodded at the first case. “We’ll start at this end and work our way down.” As Jimmy unlocked the case, Arizona sighed heavily. “I found them, but do they trust me with them now?”