Making Mina Strings Attached(10)

She wasn’t so comfortable with the collection’s owner, but Marco had been noticeably absent for the past few days. After announcing his intentions at dinner he’d turned around and immediately disappeared. He announced that he had to leave to attend meetings in North Carolina—some big property transfer in the Outer Banks—and was gone within a few hours. She almost missed him.

Almost.

“Mina,” Ivy called as she came around the corner, white latex gloves jarring with her all black outfit, “I need you to sign off on these two items. There’s an unmarked atmospherically sealed case, and an engraved bronze mirror that were separated from everything else. I’m thinking these must be particular favorites.”

Mina followed her friend back down the long hallway, pausing momentarily outside Marco’s bedroom. She’d gotten over the view, and the opulent furnishings. She stopped marveling at the glass cases that flanked the desk in his office. She’d even managed to stop shaking every time she washed her hands and smelled the scent of his soap on her skin, but that bedroom door stopped her every time.

“You okay?” Ivy asked. Her dark eyes were curious and Mina understood. After that first day she hadn’t been interested in discussing the details of her dubious relationship. All she’d told Ivy was that the exhibit was for real, and that Marco wasn’t as bad as she thought.

“I’m fine,” she said with a rueful laugh. “I never realized that when Santiago was running around yelling about idiots, he had good reasons.” She tilted her head. “I don’t think I’ve been able to finish one thought today without having to stop everything to keep one of the movers from sitting on the crates, or tossing boxes into the truck. My head is killing me.”

Ivy nodded knowingly. Being a conservationist, she had often come back to their little office fuming because some schmuck handled metalwork without gloves, or hadn’t replaced the acid-free covers on paper items before transferring them from one room to another, forgetting that the sunlight that came through the museum’s windows was just as dangerous as the sunlight outside.

“Do you want to put off looking at that apartment this evening?”

Mina sighed. That was another thing that was giving her a headache. Ivy had made it clear that she was welcome to stay with her, but her little bungalow was overflowing with projects and research materials—there simply wasn’t room for Mina to stay long term. She’d arranged to have her belongings removed from the condominium she’d shared with Ethan. I should have used those movers for this job, she thought a little punchily. I think they’d have done a better job. But she still had yet to find a place of her own.

“No,” she said. “If I keep putting it off I’ll never find an apartment. “ She straightened up and forced herself to smile. “At least with the bonus I got from this job I’ll be able to be a little choosier. It’s nice not to be stuck looking at studios.”

Ivy let her hair swing forward. “I wondered about that. Do you think Mr. Genovese realized that a bonus wasn’t typical for something like this?” Her voice was carefully neutral, but Mina knew exactly what she was getting at.

“I’m sure he knew exactly what was typical,” she said. “It’s probably another of his attempts at being supportive, and I’ve decided that if the Universe has decided that the way to help me get through my breakup with Ethan is by supplying help in the guise of Marco Genovese, I am not going to let my pride get in the way of getting on with my life. Marco may not be around forever, but there’s no point in looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

“I am very pleased to hear you say that,” a masculine voice spoke up from the door, causing both women to jump. “Opportunity comes in many forms, and one must be ready to grab it whenever it appears.”

Mina gasped and her eyes flew to the man in the doorway. A week apart had softened the edges of her memory, and she was breathless in the face of just how impressive a figure Marco was. He was wearing jeans today, something she’d never seen before, and she stared at his long denim-encased legs for a moment too long. Ivy bumped her a little, intentionally jarring her back into the present, as she stepped forward to greet her second-hand benefactor.

“Mr. Genovese! How nice to see you. Successful trip I hope?” Ivy’s parents were disgustingly wealthy and at times like these her ability to segue into the common language of polite nothings was very handy.

Marco gave a little bow and half smile.

“The trip was indeed successful, Dr. Fielding. Thank you. I see,” he waved a hand around, “that you have made quite a bit of progress as well.”