“Maybe you haven’t been having sex with the right people.”

She dared to look up at him and wished she hadn’t. Yes, she wanted to kiss him all over again but she wouldn’t now. “Well, I’m clearly not going to find out what it would be like with you so do you have anyone else you’d like to recommend?”

His eyes flickered up the hill to the house as if something had caught his attention and she turned to see Célie approaching with yet more food. Josh stepped back and reached out his hand to take the tray from Célie. “We’ve decided to do some work,” he said to Célie. “I’ll take that inside for us.”

“Work,” D’Arcy said archly once Célie had gone, wanting to make light of the whole situation. “You’ll be lucky if I can concentrate on anything.”

He prodded her gently in the back with the tray. “Move,” he said, his voice as close to teasing as she’d heard it. “Work is the best thing for both of us right now. And turn off the lusty eyes.”

She made sure to give him a long stare before she started toward the house—anything to capitalize on his one definite foray into flirting. “I had no idea they were lusty in the first place so I won’t be able to turn them off. You’ll just have to put up with them.”

Nine

Her hopes lifted a little when he led her upstairs but sank when he opened the door to an attic filled with boxes and filing cabinets, an archive of the photographer’s work, D’Arcy presumed.

“I guess I was still hoping work might be a euphemism for…” she began.

“Stop it,” he mock-ordered. “If this doesn’t distract you, nothing will. You’re the only person besides me who’s ever been allowed into this room.”

“Does the photographer know?” D’Arcy said, then wondered why she’d asked. There was no way Josh was the kind of person who’d have his head turned by one little kiss and give her access to things forbidden by his client. “Why would the photographer let me in here?”

Josh shrugged. “I don’t know. I was literally speechless when the photographer asked me to contact the gallery in Australia to see if they’d be interested in an exhibition; the photographer had never before wanted the works to travel outside Europe. And then there was the specific request for you to handle the art for the show. I mean, I had heard of you; you’ve handled work for some of our clients before and there aren’t too many art handlers in Australia.”

“Well,” D’Arcy said, “you’ve succeeded in completely distracting me. Is this where all her work is kept?”

“It is. It’s far from ideal storage conditions but she doesn’t care about that. Even I’ve only been allowed to look through certain boxes and files—the ones on the left side of the room. But tonight…” He paused. “She told Célie to send me up when I finished my run. She said you might like to see some of her older works, to show more of a sense of her career. Things never exhibited. That we could look through anything in the room, even the boxes on the right. I said you weren’t the curator and you probably wouldn’t have authority to add things to the exhibition. But she was insistent.”