Dream Wedding: Dream Bride / Dream Groom. Susan Mallery
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won’t mind answering all my questions.”
They’d reached the building. Arizona held the door open for her. “Not at all. We can talk about anything you’d like.”
The hallway was dim and it took a minute for her eyes to adjust. They stood facing each other. “I have a whole list of things I want to ask you.”
“I think I’d rather talk about you.”
It took a minute for his words to sink in. Chloe’s body screamed a gratified “Yes!” when she finally absorbed the meaning of his statement. Her brain resisted. Was this teasing or testing? She didn’t allow herself to think it might be an invitation. He couldn’t possibly know about the dream. Did the attraction go both ways? The thought both excited and terrified her.
“That’s not very subtle,” she told him, pleased that her voice was calm. Shrieking would have been so unattractive.
“I can be if that’s what you would prefer.”
“What would you prefer?”
She hadn’t meant to ask that question, but it was too late to call it back. Once the words were out, she really wanted to hear the answer.
The devastating smile returned. “I’d like to take you to an island in the South Pacific. Somewhere isolated and romantic.”
“I’m sure you have just the one in mind.”
“Of course. You’d like it. The indigenous population has a society based on a female deity. The social structure is matriarchal. In their eyes, men pretty much have one use.”
Chloe was grateful for the dimness of the foyer. She could feel herself flushing. Based on what she’d read about him, he was probably telling the truth about the island. Despite herself, she laughed.
“I should be insulted,” she told him.
“But you’re not.”
“No, I’m not.” How could she be, when every cell of her being responded to him. Not just because he was good-looking. In fact, that was the least of his appeal. Much of what drew her was his energy. She felt like a cat seeking out the warmth of the sun. She wanted to bask in his glow.
“Don’t you have some gems you want to show me?” she asked in an effort to change the subject.
“Absolutely.” He led the way down the hall toward the exhibit hall.
She fell into step with him. “You’re not what I expected,” she admitted.
“So you’ve been doing your homework. Did you think I’d be more scholarly?”
“No, although I’m sure you’re the expert everyone claims. I guess I didn’t think you’d be just a regular guy. I try not to form too much of an impression of someone before I meet him. I don’t want to be writing the article in my head too early. But in your case, that was more difficult than usual. There’s a mythical element to your press clippings.”
“Tell me about it.” He stopped suddenly and turned to face her. “Despite the press trying to make it seem otherwise, I’m not Harrison Ford or Indiana Jones.” His mouth twisted. “I can’t tell you how many times those comparisons have been made.”
“How often do you come out ahead?”
“Good question.” His features relaxed a little. “We’re running about fifty-fifty. You wouldn’t believe the people who have trouble understanding that he’s an actor portraying a fictional character. What happens in the movies has very little to do with real life. But people have expectations.”
“You don’t want to disappoint them,” she said guessing.
“Of course not. But I’m not a larger-than-life character. Who can compete with a movie legend? This is real life. I don’t get a second take to make sure the line is said just right.”
“I would guess that the fans who most want you to be like Indiana Jones are the ladies,” she said.
He groaned. “They bring me hats like his. And whips.”
Chloe wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I see.”
He winked. “Of course some of them have been quite satisfied with reality.”
I certainly 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