Trouble With Harry by Myla Jackson Page B

gold letters on the surface. “Perhaps Professor Johansson can help us.”
    “What does this Professor know?” Harry asked.
    “He’s an expert on Persian and Arabic history, and he’s my friend. Maybe he can find more information about the stone.” She thumbed through the black book until she stopped on a page. “Who knows? He might tell us something about the dig you were on in 1924. He has access to all kinds of historical files, books and records.”
    “Good, maybe he’ll help us find my partner, too.” Harry slipped into the shirt.
    Edie made her call, giving the professor a full description of the stone, its carvings and just enough information to make his inquiries without telling him the entire story. When she hung up, the telephone beeped again.
    “There, that’s the sound I heard.” Harry pointed at the black box.
    “That’s how the telephone rings, Harry.” Edie punched a button. “Hello. Oh hi, Dad.” She grimaced and walked to the other side of the room. “Yes, Dad, I was kissing a man in the hallway.”
    Uh-oh. News of their kiss must have made its way to Edie’s father. He hoped she didn’t take a lot of grief over one little kiss. Mostly, he hoped Mrs. Bartelli hadn’t noticed that he’d had his hands up Edie’s shirt.
    “Yes, his hands were up my shirt and no, I’m not a slut.” Her angry whispers grew louder.
    “Frank Ragsdale is a complete asshole,” Mitch said. “He’s always putting her down.”
    Harry wanted to take the telephone away from Edie and give the man a piece of his mind. “Why does she put up with it?” For the first time since he’d met Mitch he felt a connection to the man, he couldn’t fault Mitch for caring about Edie. Someone needed to.
    “She insists that she’s used to it and it doesn’t bother her.” Mitch’s lips tightened. “But it does. You can tell.”
    “Dad, it’s none of your business who I sleep with,” Edie said. “I could sleep with the entire team of the New York Knicks if I wanted to. No, I’m not trying to embarrass you. I know I’m not beautiful, and he’s probably just after the sex, but maybe so am I. Look, Dad, I don’t want to die a virgin. If paying for sex is the only way I can get it, maybe it’s not such a bad alternative. I’m sorry, Dad, he’s waiting for me in my bed. I have to go have raunchy sex before my money runs out.” Edie punched a button on the phone and slammed it down on the table.
    “Hey, you go, girlfriend!” Mitch raised his fist in the air.
    Edie stood with her back to Harry. She was so still, she appeared frozen in position, then her shoulders began shaking. Was Edie crying?
    Harry strode across the room and gently turned Edie toward him.
    Instead of tears, she was laughing so hard she didn’t make a sound. Then she inhaled. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that to my father!” She clutched her stomach and doubled over, her eyes glistening. As quickly as the weather shifted in New York City, her laughter changed to sobs and the tears Harry had expected spilled down her cheeks. “He couldn’t believe a man would want to kiss me.”
    He pulled her into his arms, leaning his chin against her hair. “I did.”
    “Only because I wished it!” Edie sniffled and rubbed her nose on her sleeve.
    With his finger and thumb, Harry tipped her face up to his. “You’re not wishing now.” He dipped down and claimed her lips. This time he felt the difference. The invisible puppet master wasn’t making him do anything he didn’t want to do. And boy he wanted to kiss Edie.
    He tasted her, running his tongue along her full bottom lip, delving in for more. Harry wanted to lie naked with her, making love through the night, showing her with each touch and stroke just how beautiful she was.
    Soft hands crept up to circle his neck, and as Edie pressed her body against his, the scent of spring flowers seeped into his senses. Heat burned a path from where her breasts rubbed against his chest downward