the bottle from I Dream of Jeannie. Caedmon was too much the gentleman to comment. Having spent several weeks at his Paris flat, she knew that he preferred the dark woods and fabrics one expected to find in an English library.
With her free hand, Edie gestured to the plastic containers of sushi and the small sake bottle. “I’ll serve up the fish while you pour the libations.” Garrett had just returned from a business trip to Tokyo and had smuggled a couple of bottles of sake in his luggage. Anxious to give the stuff a test drive, she placed two demitasse cups on the platter next to the cerulean blue bottle.
Caedmon seated himself on the velvet sofa. About to plop down on the sisal carpet, Edie, instead, cocked an ear toward the doorway. Hearing the whhrr and hum of the fax machine, she said, “Sounds like we’ve got an incoming. What do you wanna bet that’s the fax you were expecting?”
“Trent is, if anything, dependable.”
“Stay put. I’ll go check.” Motioning him to remain seated, Edie walked across the hall to her home office. Sure enough, there were several sheets of white paper in front of the fax machine. Earlier in the day, Caedmon had contacted his old group leader at MI5 to request a background dossier on Jason Lovett. Must be nice to have friends in high places.
In addition to the faxed sheets of paper, she snatched her laptop computer before heading back to the living room.
She set the laptop on the sofa, then, holding the fax aloft, said, “Do you want to read it or should I?”
Caedmon’s brow slightly furrowed. “Er, by all means,” he deferred, indicating that she should do the honors.
Seeing that creased forehead, Edie belatedly realized she’d overstepped her bounds. She handed him the faxed sheets of paper. “On second thought, it is addressed to you.”
A tad self-conscious, Edie seated herself on the floor and made a big to-do out of opening the food containers. Stilted interludes like that made her wonder how they were ever going to make a transatlantic relationship work. Because of the lengthy amounts of time spent apart, when they did hook up, it often seemed as if they reverted to square one—the awkward “getting to know you” stage. Off-kilter conversations. Mumbled apologies. Sharing the bathroom! The only time they were in sync was in bed. However, man cannot live by bed alone.
Amused, Edie giggled.
Caedmon glanced up. “Care to share the joke?”
“Nope. So, what’s the scoop on the dearly departed archaeologist? Any deep, dark secrets?”
Setting the fax aside, Caedmon shook his head. “No red flags if that’s what you’re asking. According to the dossier, Jason Lovett had a bachelor’s degree in cartography and two advanced degrees in archaeology. After graduation, he spent some time in Key West working with the Fisher team trying to locate shipwrecked Spanish galleys.”
“Politely put, he was a professional treasure hunter.” Ravenous, she used a chopstick to smear a healthy amount of wasabi on top of several sushi rolls. That done, she opened a packet of soy sauce with her teeth, slathering it over the green-coated rolls. “Which begs the question . . . Do you think the fabled Templar treasure is really as big as Lovett claimed?”
“I don’t know if it would be worth so staggering a sum as a hundred billion dollars. However, if it does exist, the Templar treasure would be sizable,” Caedmon replied, partially validating the dead archaeologist’s outrageous claim. “And if the Templars had the Ark of the Covenant in their possession, the sacred relic would have been smuggled out of France along with the monetary treasure. As you know, I’d give anything to get my hands on the Ark.”
“We are talking about events that occurred seven hundred years ago.”
Edie reached for a California roll. Sushi was one of her favorite take-out meals, probably because she got to eat it with her fingers. Caedmon, on the other hand, veered away from
With her free hand, Edie gestured to the plastic containers of sushi and the small sake bottle. “I’ll serve up the fish while you pour the libations.” Garrett had just returned from a business trip to Tokyo and had smuggled a couple of bottles of sake in his luggage. Anxious to give the stuff a test drive, she placed two demitasse cups on the platter next to the cerulean blue bottle.
Caedmon seated himself on the velvet sofa. About to plop down on the sisal carpet, Edie, instead, cocked an ear toward the doorway. Hearing the whhrr and hum of the fax machine, she said, “Sounds like we’ve got an incoming. What do you wanna bet that’s the fax you were expecting?”
“Trent is, if anything, dependable.”
“Stay put. I’ll go check.” Motioning him to remain seated, Edie walked across the hall to her home office. Sure enough, there were several sheets of white paper in front of the fax machine. Earlier in the day, Caedmon had contacted his old group leader at MI5 to request a background dossier on Jason Lovett. Must be nice to have friends in high places.
In addition to the faxed sheets of paper, she snatched her laptop computer before heading back to the living room.
She set the laptop on the sofa, then, holding the fax aloft, said, “Do you want to read it or should I?”
Caedmon’s brow slightly furrowed. “Er, by all means,” he deferred, indicating that she should do the honors.
Seeing that creased forehead, Edie belatedly realized she’d overstepped her bounds. She handed him the faxed sheets of paper. “On second thought, it is addressed to you.”
A tad self-conscious, Edie seated herself on the floor and made a big to-do out of opening the food containers. Stilted interludes like that made her wonder how they were ever going to make a transatlantic relationship work. Because of the lengthy amounts of time spent apart, when they did hook up, it often seemed as if they reverted to square one—the awkward “getting to know you” stage. Off-kilter conversations. Mumbled apologies. Sharing the bathroom! The only time they were in sync was in bed. However, man cannot live by bed alone.
Amused, Edie giggled.
Caedmon glanced up. “Care to share the joke?”
“Nope. So, what’s the scoop on the dearly departed archaeologist? Any deep, dark secrets?”
Setting the fax aside, Caedmon shook his head. “No red flags if that’s what you’re asking. According to the dossier, Jason Lovett had a bachelor’s degree in cartography and two advanced degrees in archaeology. After graduation, he spent some time in Key West working with the Fisher team trying to locate shipwrecked Spanish galleys.”
“Politely put, he was a professional treasure hunter.” Ravenous, she used a chopstick to smear a healthy amount of wasabi on top of several sushi rolls. That done, she opened a packet of soy sauce with her teeth, slathering it over the green-coated rolls. “Which begs the question . . . Do you think the fabled Templar treasure is really as big as Lovett claimed?”
“I don’t know if it would be worth so staggering a sum as a hundred billion dollars. However, if it does exist, the Templar treasure would be sizable,” Caedmon replied, partially validating the dead archaeologist’s outrageous claim. “And if the Templars had the Ark of the Covenant in their possession, the sacred relic would have been smuggled out of France along with the monetary treasure. As you know, I’d give anything to get my hands on the Ark.”
“We are talking about events that occurred seven hundred years ago.”
Edie reached for a California roll. Sushi was one of her favorite take-out meals, probably because she got to eat it with her fingers. Caedmon, on the other hand, veered away from
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