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touch, the amber streaking through her eyes until they blazed gold as they met his while she jounced along, her body leaning against his. “I promise you, D’Alesio, you will definitely live to regret this—”
    He smiled pleasantly despite the sizzling black jet that sparked from his eyes. “Will I? We’ll see.”
    The door was still slightly ajar, probably from her unsolicited entry, he thought grimly. He edged it farther open with his foot and set her down on the outside. As she gasped again for breath and struggled to regain her composure, he noted that he had thoroughly soaked her perfect cream suit. It clung to the curves of her figure, and he was annoyed that he noticed their fullness and firmness and that her clothes outlined her angles so deeply and provocatively.
    “It’s been a pleasure, Dr. Randall,” he said quickly, suddenly realizing again that he was nude and now standing in an open doorway. “Let’s not do it again, though, huh?”
    He closed the door in her face with a firm click.
    He heard her fist immediately slam against it. “We certainly won’t, D’Alesio. I’ll find Sheriff on my own, Mr. D’Alesio—and I’ll also find Jim Crosby.” Her haunting voice became very sweet. “And I sincerely doubt you’ll be doing any documentaries on the great discoveries of the twentieth century—not in this field, at any rate.”
    He heard the perfect staccato click of her heels as she started down the hallway.
    Who in the world was she, and what in the world did she want?
    He leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest, then realized that the parlor windows were open to the street and a couple of kids were pointing upward and laughing.
    “Damn!” he muttered, automatically doubling over and trotting back toward his bedroom.
    If she hadn’t burst in on him, if she hadn’t irritated him so, if it hadn’t felt quite so absurd sitting in the tub while the “queen” swept in … he might have found out who she was. Was she Jim’s mistress? Lucky guy. She might look like a rose petal, but she was also stunning. Thinking of her now made him wonder what it would feel like to pull the pins out of that rich gold-filigree hair … see the lime and amber eyes smolder to gold with passion … touch that alabaster skin. …
    Actually, he thought dryly, he was wondering what it would be like to go to bed with her. She was delicate, she was elegant, she was fastidious, cool, regal … And she’d probably do very well in a wet-T-shirt contest, too!
    He laughed aloud at the incongruity of his thoughts, then sobered. She had threatened him! She had barged into his bathroom, made him feel like a fool. His jaw took on a slow twist, and he sauntered to the bed to sit and pick up the phone.
    “Raj? There’s a woman heading downstairs. You’ll notice her, believe me. She’s not the type of female a man would miss. I want you to get someone to follow her. See where she heads next.”
    He had fallen asleep when Raj called him back. The Arab had had no difficulty discovering what the woman was up to.
    “She called the airport from the desk, Mr. D’Alesio. She’s got a flight into Abu Dhabi just a few hours after yours. And then she called one of the guide agencies and requested a man familiar with all the Arab countries who was willing to travel for at least a week.”
    “Thanks, Raj,” Dan murmured speculatively. He hung up his phone and stared at the ceiling. The little witch! She was going to go straight after Sheriff!
    Who was Dr. Alex Randall, and just what was she after?
    If he had her in front of him he’d be tempted to throttle her.
    He mused for several minutes longer, aggravated with himself for the impatience that had cost him that knowledge; aggravated with her for breaking in on him and issuing threats like the Queen of Sheba.
    So her desert knowledge far surpassed his, did it? She looked too fragile to withstand one sandstorm. But she was an Egyptologist, he reminded himself.