Pretending her hands were Nick's, she trailed them over her water-drenched, soapy body. Wow, how she craved the touch of his big, strong hands, slightly rougher than hers. She still couldn't believe he'd stroked her to orgasm that morning. It seemed like one of her fantasies. He knew how to play her like a finely tuned instrument, drawing intense and beautiful pleasure from her so quickly.
When her climax overcame her, she almost fell to the shower floor, but held onto the tile wall and managed to stay on her feet. The orgasm was good, but nowhere near as fantastic as the one Nick had given her.
If a highly sexual man like Nick could maintain his self-control in the face of their intense attraction, so could she. She'd be nuts to get sexually involved with him, anyway. It wouldn't be just simple sex for her; it would be more like making love. And she was certain Nick wouldn't know what that meant. Unfortunately, he was not the type of guy who would stick around. Though she wished he was.
* * * *
The next morning, Nick followed Emily across the marble tiles of the museum's atrium, watching her cute ass twitch in that little skirt. He remembered it bare the day he'd caught her naked in her bedroom. Damn, did he love walking behind her. He'd like to sink his teeth into that sweet, heart-shaped ass. He wouldn't bite too hard.
Focus, Sullivan!
Lifting his gaze, he concentrated on the clunk of his boots echoing to the twenty-foot-high coffered ceiling and the lighter click of Emily's heels. Hopefully, they'd find out from Emily's friend if this stone phallus was worth anything. Then maybe they'd know why the perp wanted it so badly.
They took a narrow hallway in the back to an office door. Emily knocked. A couple of moments later, a petite blond woman opened it and smiled.
"Emily, I've been expecting you. Come in."
They stepped into her tidy, walnut-paneled office which appeared to be something from the nineteenth century.
Emily introduced Nick to Greta. She looked too fresh, young and voluptuous to be an assistant museum curator, but what did he know?
After some small talk, Greta asked, "Did you bring the object you were asking me about? I can't wait to see it."
"Yes." Emily opened her briefcase, removed the object from the linen napkin and placed it on a desk. "We'd like to keep it in the bag if possible. It may have fingerprints or other clues on it leading to the rightful owner."
Greta nodded, eying the object closely. "Wow."
Why were women so fascinated by the marble penis?
"You found this in your garden?"
"Yes," Emily said, obviously holding back the bit about who she suspected had buried it there. "How old do you think it is?"
Greta turned on a light and sat down on a stool to inspect the object with a magnification device for several moments. "It's hard to examine it closely through the plastic, but based on the workmanship and style, I'd say it's at least two thousand years old. Maybe more. It looks like the ones that have been found in the British Isles."
"I thought so. I researched it online last night. But I know nothing about archeology and wanted an expert's opinion. How much do you think it's worth?"
"It's difficult to say. Sometimes these sorts of antiquities are put up for auction. So the demand for it determines the price."
"Is there any reason buyers would want this besides as an art object to display?" Emily asked.
Greta frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Um…"
"Could it have some kind of paranormal powers?" Nick asked when Emily was silent a moment too long. In his vision, he'd heard the killer mention Druids and magic.
"It's doubtful. But I've never come across an object with paranormal powers, so who knows?"
"What would it have been used for when it was made?" Emily asked.
"Could've been used in fertility rituals or as a sexual aid. At least, this is what most experts in the field theorize. There's no way to know for certain."
"A sexual aid?" Nick asked. "Are you saying this is a two-thousand-year-old dildo?"
"Nick," Emily scolded, her face flushing red.
Greta smiled, then nodded. "Possibly. Most historians are convinced Greek and Roman women used them. So why not other cultures?"
"Yeah, why not?" Nick muttered.
"It could be incredibly valuable," Greta said. "You'll probably want to keep it in a safe place."
* * * *
Late that night, amid flashes of lightning and rumbling thunder, Nick awoke from an erotic dream…he and Emily were in her bed, practically devouring each other. The taste of her sweet mouth, along with her eager response drove him crazy. He rolled between her thighs and…
He sat bolt upright, alone in his own bed. Dammit, was he reading her mind? Was she fantasizing about him right now? He'd had a dream like this about her before, right after he'd met her the first time, but he'd written it off as his own lust and imagination taking over. But what if that wasn't all there was to it? What if she'd been fantasizing about him then, too?