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was.
    She jumped. Had she said that or just thought it? Her gaze flew to his face. He was watching her expectantly. Her heart, which had stumbled a couple of beats, resumed its steady thudding. She must have just thought it. Thank goodness. Arizona could never know about that night—or her dreams.
    “Chloe, I’m sorry. I was just teasing. If it bothers you, I’ll stop.”
    His statement didn’t make sense for a second. Then she realized she’d been quiet and he probably thought she’d been insulted by his comment. “It’s fine,” she told him.
    He shrugged. “Seriously, there was a time when I enjoyed all the press and comparisons. I worked hard to live up to the hype.”
    “A girl in every port?”
    “Something like that.”
    “What happened?”
    “I grew up. It got old. I’ve learned that quality is the most important part of a relationship.”
    That surprised her. “So you’re a romantic at heart?”
    He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. “Yes. But not the way you mean it. If you’re asking if I believe in love, the answer is no.”
    That didn’t make sense. “You said you believe in magic.”
    “Of course. One doesn’t have anything to do with the other. Magic exists. Love is the myth.”
    “No way. I’ve never seen magic at work, but you only have to look around to know love is everywhere. Parents and their children, couples who have been together fifty years, kids with their pets. How can you deny all that evidence?”
    He stepped toward the wide double doors that led to the exhibit. “It’s surprisingly easy,” he said, pulled a key from his pocket, turned the lock and pushed open the right door.
    As she moved to step inside, she was instantly assaulted by cool air. The light was even more dim inside, with only an illuminated path to guide them. A shiver rippled up her spine, but this one was from nerves, not attraction. Chloe instinctively fingered the heart-shaped locket she wore around her neck.
    “This way,” Arizona said with the confidence of someone who could see in the dark.
    They’d taken about two steps when a voice stopped them. “You can’t come in here,” a man said. “The exhibit isn’t open yet.” Seconds later a bright light shone in her eyes, blinding her.
    “It’s okay, Martin,” Arizona said. “This is Chloe Wright. She’s a journalist. I brought her by to show her the exhibit.”
    The light clicked off and a security guard stepped out of the shadows. “Oh, sorry, Dr. Smith. I didn’t know it was you.” The fiftysomething man smiled. “Let me know if you need anything.”
    “I will, Martin, thanks.”
    When they were alone again, Arizona motioned to the dark draperies on either side of the lit path. “The entrance is going to have blown-up photographs showing some of the ruins, that sort of thing. Robert Burton, a friend of mine, is composing appropriate music. Whatever the hell that means.”
    Chloe chuckled with him. “Probably something with a South American flavor.”
    “Probably.”
    They continued down the walkway toward bright lights. Dark drapes gave way to glass cases exhibiting tools, bowls and animal hides fashioned into primitive clothing. Arizona briefly explained the significance of the items.
    “I constantly offend my colleagues,” he admitted, not looking the least bit concerned by the fact. “I know I should be interested in this kind of thing.” He motioned to a row of cutting knives. “They are the basis for understanding how a people lived day by day. But I’m a true romantic. I find the living more interesting than the dead, even the long-dead, and I prefer magic to reality. I don’t care what they used to skin their kill. I want to know how they prepared for the hunt. I want to learn the rituals and hear the songs.” He shrugged. “As I’m frequently reminded, religion and magic have their place, but a good knife in the hands of a skilled hunter can keep a family alive for the winter.”
    Chloe