The whole room was entrancing and mystical, much like the mysterious man who was kissing her like there would be no tomorrow.

  Jillian’s arousal gave way to fear. Would there be a tomorrow?

  Quick as lightning, he used her distraction to snatch the ring from inside her bra and held it up between his fingers.

  “You need to learn to lie better, Ms. Whitmore.”

  Jillian gasped. Panic rioted within her, making her pulse pound.

  Why had she trusted him with her secret?

  “Give it back.” She tried to snatch the ring from his fingers.

  “Do you really want it back?” He held it out of her grasp. “Knowing that some people would kill to have it.”

  “People like you?” she dared to ask.

  They stared at each other for a tense moment, eyes searching, then his mouth was back on hers, answering her with a devastating kiss. He reached his hands behind to grab her bottom and draw her snug against his body, with her legs circled around his waist. He subtly rocked his hips back and forth, the hard ridge in his pants growing harder against the soft place between her thighs.

  Each time he kissed her they moved one step closer to sex, and Jillian wasn’t ready to make matters worse. A warning voice whispered in her head. All these strong feelings and swirling thoughts had her mind reeling with confusion.

  She unhooked her legs from around his waist and twisted out of his hold. “You have what you want. There’s no need to keep pretending.”

  Mr. Smith was a rich, handsome, interesting man, but men like him were not attracted to women like Jillian. He was Gucci and sports cars and high society, and she was just Jillian. Plain and simple, with her pencil skirts and buttoned up blouses. Working in a field largely dominated by men, she could easily use her looks to get ahead, but she didn’t want to flaunt her beauty. She wanted the world to see something more.

  “This is what I want.” His hands flexed around her bottom. “Let me keep the ring, and you, safe. Accept my help, Ms. Whitmore. Trust me.”

  Jillian bit down on her bottom lip and thought about what he was saying. She let herself believe his words were true. Who else could she turn to for help?

  “I’m not having sex with you,” she announced in a calm voice. “This is serious. I know how powerful the ring is, and what it can do. I have to protect it.”

  ***

  Kyriel released her, knowing she was right, and smarter than him in that instant for staying focused on the goal. Still, he couldn’t fight his wild attraction. He wanted to keep on touching her, but instead he grippedthe sides of the desk. He had to grab onto something because he didn’t think he could keep his hands off her enticing body. Her sweet kisses were filled with a deep, urgent longing. One he wanted to fill. He’d found an erotically sensual woman hiding behind that prim and proper exterior.

  What was she hiding from?

  His face inches from hers, he said, “We’re partners now, Ms. Whitmore, it’ll be like shaking hands to seal the deal.”

  Kyriel believed he could have sex with her and not get too attached. He liked the idea of spending his last days on Earth with a beautiful woman. It would be the perfect ending to his centuries of exile.

  “I think it’s better if we do just shake hands, Mr. Smith.” She slipped her hand into his larger one and gripped it, then gave one firm shake.

  He wasn’t letting her off so easy. “I like my way better.”

  He leaned in to kiss her soft, warm lips, but she turned her head and pressed her hands against his chest.

  How did she have the power to refuse him? Why didn’t his persuasion work anymore?

  Her mind must be stronger than he guessed.

  Interesting.

  “I don’t know you,” she said, looking up into his eyes with determined focus. “But I’m going to trust you. Sex will only complicate things.”

  “It doesn’t have to.” He didn’t think he could let her go without knowing what it was like to make love to her all night.

  How good would she feel beneath him as he brought her pleasure? Would she scream, or moan softly when she came? His thick erection pulsed, aching to be inside her, and he couldn’t decipher where the fierce reaction came from.

  In all his life he’d never been so intrigued by a woman. Others had come close, but Jillian seemed to fit. He couldn’t explain it. She felt comfortable, familiar, and he wanted to feel all of her. It bothered him that he didn’t have the time to seduce her properly, the way she deserved to be, with long dinners, drives to the coast in his Corvette to watch the sunrise, black satin sheets.

  Damn.

  He didn’t like the thought of his time on Earth possibly having an expiration date. Not when he wasn’t finished yet.

  And how was he planning to leave?

  By betraying the one woman he’d been waiting forever to meet.

  “Sex always complicates things,” she said, sliding back on the desk to put some space between them. “If we’re going to be partners, I think we should keep our relationship professional.”

  ***

  Jillian was confused, losing control, and she struggled to get back on top of her feelings. He’d taken the ring from her, and she’d decided to trust another person. That was enough to deal with all at once.

  “Very well, Ms. Whitmore.” He took a step back and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “We need to devise a plan before you leave.”

  “Is it safe for me to go when I’m being followed?”

  “We don’t know if you are.”

  “But, you said—”

  “I wanted to put the thought in your mind so you’d be more aware of the people and places surrounding you. The enemy is waiting around every corner.”

  “What’s the plan?” She had no other choice but to rely on his help.

  She didn’t have experience with this kind of thing, where he looked like he was used to staring danger in the face, and coming out on top.

  She shivered, thinking of his strong hands touching her body. Hands that were surely capable of violence bringing her pleasure. In her heart she believed he wanted to help her and would keep her safe. He’d kissed her like he meant it. A kiss didn’t lie.

  “First we need to know who else wants the ring,” he said. “They might lead us to the other rings.”

  “Do we need to find the others?” Jillian hadn’t even thought to go after them.

  “Don’t you think it would be better to have them all?”

  “Not if it would mean more people would be after us.”

  “People will be after us whether we have one, or all three.” He began pacing in front of the desk, his hands in his pockets. “Is there anyone you can think of that has come into your life recently? Perhaps a new friend you’ve picked up in the last four or five months?”

  He stopped to look at her, and Jillian went cold with fear. How had she failed to put it together?

  “Jonathon,” she gasped. “It’s him.”

  “I thought it felt like he was hiding something from me.” Mr. Smith resumed his pacing.

  “My grandparents left everything to him. Their house, the museum, and all he asked about was the ring. He said it was a rare piece, meant to be a gift to Jesus from the Magi, and my grandfather wanted him to have it.”

  “If your grandfather was a Keeper, why didn’t he want you to have the ring?”

  “He did want me to have it, at least I thought he did. When I was seventeen, I started traveling with him, and that’s when he started teaching me about what the ring could do. After they died, I took the ring from hiding, and that’s when Jonathon started asking questions.”

  “What kinds of questions?” He paced faster.

  “He wanted to know if I’d been going through their things and if I found the ring. I told him I hadn’t, and he put their house up for sale and ordered a liquidation of all their belongings. He was trying to flush it out.”

  Everything was falling into place. Jonathon’s sudden appearance, the way he’d wormed his way into their lives, somehow convincing her grandparents to change their Will. Their sudden death.

  Fury almost choked her as she faced the dreadful thought. Was it possible he’d done something to get rid of her grandparents?

  “How did you happen to lose the ring?” Mr. Smith stopped pacing, his brow raised in question.

  “I still had a week left before the house had to be turned over to the new owners. I was going through a few boxes of photos and mementos I had kept aside, along with some of my grandmother’s jewelry and a television. I took a break to go out for dinner, and when I came back an hour later, someone had broken in and stolen it all. The police only recovered it last night.”

  “Do they know who took it?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “And I was so relieved to have the ring back that I didn’t ask.”

  “I don’t think it matters. If the thief had been after the ring, you wouldn’t have gotten it back.”

  Stunned and sickened, grief tore at her heart. Jillian didn’t think she had what it took to protect the ring. She wished her grandfather had left her more prepared. What would he have done if someone came looking for the ring?

  “This is our opportunity.” He fixed her in his stern, intense stare. “Are you ready?”

  “I’m not sure I can do this.”

  “The time is now, Ms. Whitmore. Haven’t you seen the planets aligning?”

  “Well, three of them have because of the Autumn Equinox Sunday night, but I thought it was all a coincidence.”

  His expression was hard, his brow turned down. “Nothing is a coincidence when you have the ring.”

  The end of the world could be coming, and she had to stop it, whether she was ready, or not.

  She slid off the top of the desk and smoothed out her skirt. “What’s your plan?”

  “We call his bluff.” He walked over to a glass case, lifted off the top, and took out a golden trumpet, turning it in his hands, as if inspecting it. “You’ll go back to work and tell him about our little trade, and when he learns I’ve taken the ring from you, he’ll come after me. Then we know he’s a threat.”

  “You’re going to send me off, knowing he could be a threat?” Jillian started to doubt her choice of trusting a complete stranger. “I thought you wanted to help me.”

  “I am helping you. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re up against the devil on our own.” He walked to the bar in the corner of the room and lifted a glass decanter. “Have you ever met the devil, Ms. Whitmore?”

  The deceptive calm in his voice as he poured a drink, and the stark flash of his eyes as he looked up, made her feel a true brand of fear she hadn’t yet faced. She shook her head.

  “If you had any idea what we were up against, or what it would do to this world, you would do anything to keep it from happening. Think of your greatest fear—rape, torture, being buried alive. Multiply it by infinity and only then you might begin to imagine. He will destroy you, me, and everything that exists.”

  Jillian swallowed tightly. It was not a future she wanted to see. He walked over and handed her the drink.

  “You are the last living Keeper. Don’t let two thousand years come to nothing.”

  “How do you know I’m the last?”

  “When I tracked down the other Keepers, someone had gotten to them first.”

  Jillian accepted the drink and swallowed it down. Her throat burned, her eyes watered, and she coughed, not used to having hard liquor. Her fear began to morph into anger. She needed to discover what Jonathon might have done to her grandparents and then she would get her museum back.

  If she survived saving the world from the clutches of evil.

  She handed the empty glass back to Mr. Smith. “What do you want me to do?”

  Chapter 9

  Mr. Smith’s plan had sounded like a good idea but, as Jillian pulled into the museum parking lot, the doubt crept in.

  Jonathon could have simply killed her and taken the ring, so why hadn’t he?

  Getting into her office unnoticed was going to be difficult carrying a large, golden trumpet and a piece of wood from the cross Jesus had been crucified upon. It was all part of their plan. Mr. Smith said to tell Jonathon he’d offered to trade her the items for the ring, just in time for the gala opening on Saturday night.

  Then they would wait for him to make a move.

  She earned a few strange looks on the way to her office but no one asked any questions. The real treasure was out in her SUV. The Gospel of Mary was hers to read, in French, but Mr. Smith gave strict instructions not to share it with anyone. Not yet.

  For your eyes only.

  It wasn’t what he’d said so much as how he’d said it that had turned her on. He was so sexual.

  Just as she opened the door and walked into her office, flipping on the light, Denise rushed in behind her and closed the door.

  “What is all that?” she asked, a little out of breath.

  “Have you been running?” Jillian carefully placed the trumpet and piece of wood on the suede sofa along the wall.

  “I’ve been dying for you to get back. It turned into quite a day around here after you left.”

  “Why?” Jillian put her cell phone on her desk, next to the keyboard, and tucked her purse into the drawer in the matching filing cabinet. “What happened?”

  “Jonathon has been acting strange.”

  “He’s always strange.”

  “Yeah, but more than usual. Ever since you left at lunch he’s been down at the reception desk about a hundred times, asking if you were back yet.”

  Jillian knew exactly why. He assumed she’d gotten the ring and was going to put it right in his hands. The arrogant, rotten bastard. The more she thought about it the more she was convinced he’d done something awful to her grandparents.

  “I don’t know what he’s all excited about,” she said. “I’m the one who got robbed.”

  She adjusted the angle of the window blinds so the slats were perfectly parallel to the windowsill and spaced her three fern plants so the pots had an equal distance between them. With her foot, she moved the metal trash can so it was pressed against the side of her desk.

  Jillian hated Thursdays. The cleaning crew disrupted the perfect harmony of her office and it usually took her most of the day to get things back in order. She looked at her desk.

  Crap!

  Total chaos. They’d moved her stapler, her pencil jar, her notepad and pen, so they could dust.

  “Did the police recover everything that was stolen?” Denise asked.

  “All of it.”

  Denise leaned her hip against the metal file cabinet and put on a sly grin. “Is Detective O’Malley as gorgeous as ever?”

  Jillian straightened her phone and desk calendar. “He hasn’t changed.”

  “That’s all you’ve got to say? Surrounded by handsome men for the last two days and no juicy details?”

  “What did you want?” Jillian asked with a laugh. “He was at work. It’s not like we had sex on his desk or something.”

  Though she easily could have done something like that with Mr. Smith. Thank God her better judgment had gotten in the way.

  “What’s all this?” Denise crossed her office to the sofa and picked up the trumpet, examining it with a frown. “Are you taking up an instrument? This thing is ancient.” She dropped it back on the sofa.

  “Be careful, those are priceless.”

  Denise picked up the piece of wood next. “Priceless kindling?”

  “The trumpet was blown by the angels before they destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah, and that wood is a piece of the True Cross.”

  Denise’s mouth fell open. “Bullshit.”

  “I got them from Mr. Smith.”

  “You saw him again?” She tossed the piece of wood next to the trumpet, no longer interested. “What did he say? What did he want?”

  “He wanted to loan me those pieces for the exhibit.” It was all she could tell Denise.

  Her friend didn’t know about the ring, and she didn’t want to involve her in the situation. She wouldn’t believe it anyway. Denise was too much of a realist. Jillian had to save the world and no one, not even Denise, would know they’d been in danger.

  “That was it?” Denise walked up to her desk. “He didn’t want anything else?”

  Denise started haphazardly re-arranging things on the desk Jillian had already straightened, solely to be irritating.

  “No.” Jillian slapped at Denise’s hand and put her phone back so it was parallel to the keyboard. “He might have kissed me, but that was the only thing that happened.”

  “Yes!” Denise shouted, pumping her fist. “He’s the one to get you back on the horse. Ride it, honey, ride it all the way home.”

  Jillian blushed. Denise was more open with her sexuality, more forward with men. She made it look so easy, only it wasn’t easy. Not for Jillian. Could she have sex with Mr. Smith? The man was one hell of a kisser, and if he started out that hot she didn’t think she could take the build up to the finale, or ride it home, so to say.

  “I’m taking it slow,” she informed Denise, suppressing a smile as she thought about kissing Mr. Smith on top of his desk.

  “You like him,” Denise said, catching her smile. “He’s got you all mushy.”

  “I’m not mushy—”

  “That smile was all mush.”

  “I don’t know what I think of him,” she said, and it was the truth.

  Only time would tell if she had been wrong to trust him.

  “Don’t take too long figuring it out,” Denise warned. “A man like that only comes along once in a lifetime. My advice? Grab on to him and don’t let go.”

  “If I even see him again,” Jillian muttered, looking through some of the files in her inbox.

  The final guest list for the opening and the catering menu had come back with Jonathon’s approval. She wasn’t handing over control of the museum to anyone until she was Director and he was gone.

  “Why wouldn’t you see him again?” Denise took a mint from the jar on her desk and popped it in her mouth.