Moira’s fingers slid over the smooth surface of the closest one, her heartbeat slowing as she allowed the sheer artistry of the piece to soak into her skin. She traced the perfect curve of the neck and followed the delicate flute with one finger. Immediately, everything else faded, her attention taken by the vases. They were exquisite in design and literally stole her breath. “Oh my.” She traced the smallest one with her fingertips, aware that Robert was now leaning over her shoulder.

“Amazing.”

She welcomed the awe in his deep voice. They’d both loved antiquities; it was one of the few things they’d shared other than physical pleasures. “I’d read the description, but seeing them—” She shook her head.

A faint smile on his lips, he reached past her, using his kerchief as he picked up one of the more delicate vases and examined it with the assurance of an expert. “What do you think these held?”

“As small as they are, I’d guess perfume or some other precious liquid.”

“Yes, they’re too small for olive oil.”

“Which would have been plentiful in this time and not held in such valuable containers.”

He pulled out his monocle and regarded another vase, his shoulder warm against Moira’s. “Hm. 1200 A.D., I’d say.”

“No, I think they’re older than that.” She caught the tremor in her voice and stepped away from him. “Look at the third one,” she said quickly. “There’s etching on it.”

He held the etched surface toward the light.

A distant door opened and closed, footsteps echoing down a hallway and then disappearing. Moira barely heard the noise as she leaned forward to see the etchings.

Robert turned as she moved and met her gaze. Their faces were level, her eyes inches from his. How could she have forgotten how compelling his eyes could be? Framed in thick lashes, the deep and mysterious blue of a sapphire, they captured her imagination and stole her composure. She wanted nothing more than to lean forward and . . .

Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Firm and masculine like a Greek statue’s, it drew her like the sparkle of a diamond. Her breath came heavier as she leaned toward him, her lips closer and closer to his—

He turned and replaced the small vase. “It’s beautiful; you rarely see alabaster of this purity.” He lifted his monocle to examine it better. “You may be right; the etching does seem to indicate an earlier era.”

Robert was surprised his voice sounded so normal, as his heart was thundering in his chest and his cock stood at full attention. But that was the way it always was with Moira. She infuriated, confounded, and seduced him, all at once.

He didn’t know what it was about her, but he would have to watch himself closely to keep from falling for her tricks. He’d almost allowed himself to kiss her; it had taken all of his strength to turn away. Yet even now, he was tense with desire and far too aware of her.