This one is dedicated to PZB--I added a certain conversation about Beni's children just for you... :)

Before all this, I had been unaware that dead people could produce such excitement. He acted as though we'd found the Holy Grail or something. It was only a sarcophagus, after all. We hadn't even opened it yet, and Rich-Boy had lost his fancy tools on the boat, but he seemed to be doing fine with the tool kit he'd happened upon outside.

Okay, so I placed it there for O'Connell to find.

And yes, I may have lifted them off of some guy in Beni's team.

I think Rick was pretending he didn't know. I've never asked him, but I know he knew. I told myself I was just being nice. I told myself the expedition wouldn't very well get anywhere if our lead archaeologist didn't have anything to dig with. I told myself not to think about O'Connell shirtless.

Anyway, apparently our sarcophagus was not enough to cause Beni's team to quake in their boots, as they were too enamored of their golden jars to care. Really, O'Connell told me, theirs wasn't that spectacular of a find.

"All they are is jars with dried up guts in them," he informed me as we sat alone at the campfire that night. Jonathan was snoring nearby, clutching the liquor he'd stolen from Beni's camp earlier in the day. Not that Jonathan had been the only one drinking--O'Connell had consumed a fair amount as well, which may have been adding to the amount of rambling he was doing. Who could blame him, after all? When your camp is attacked by scary men with guns and horses who seem to have no other vendetta but to rid the earth of archaeologists, even my timid Rick had taken his turn with the liquor bottle.

"The real find is the body," he continued. "That is, of course, if we can get the sarcophagus open. It won't mean much if we can't figure out who it is, though. Can you imagine? He can't be royalty, it's not fancy enough. Maybe a priest, or someone associated with Anubis..."

Two days ago, I would have fallen asleep in the midst of this conversation. I took it as a bad sign that the mere sound of his voice (God, the accent) made any subject the most interesting on the planet. "Anubis?" I asked, unable to stop myself. "What did he do?"

"He's the jackal-headed guy on the statue, the god of the dead. He--"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Evy Carnahan....."

Eeaarggh! It was the damned weasel-man, Beni Gabor. He came sidling up to our campfire as if he intended to greet old friends. "It's been so long, Evy."

"Do you have a death wish or something?" I snarled, drawing a gun. "You're really asking for it."

"Think of my children!" he shrieked.

Oh, please. "You don't have any children!"

"Someday I might," he pouted. "Evy, would you consider having my children?"

"Get the hell away from here, Gabor," I said, sitting back down. "Before I set O'Connell on you."

Beni stiffened, sizing O'Connell up. Rich-Boy may be a straight-laced scholarly type, but six feet two inches and two hundred fifty pounds would give anybody pause. "Er...hello. Who's your friend?"

"This is Mr. O'Connell," I said. "Mr. O'Connell, Mr. Gabor."

O'Connell didn't say anything. The daggers his eyes shot at Beni would have taken down an army. Beni was still not scared enough to stop talking, however. "Er...O'Connell, huh? Er...are you two...er..."

"Go away," said Rick, and Beni ran like a bat out of hell. Wait a minute. When the hell did I start calling him Rick?

"Wow," I teased him, shaking it off. "You can sure lay on the intimidation if you want to."

He looked embarrassed. "Somehow I think intimidating Beni Gabor is no great accomplishment."

I tried to stifle my laughter, but more and more I just couldn't help myself--I was turning into an absolute mess. "You're quite difficult to figure out, you know. You look like you could be tough, but the moment you start spouting off about Egypt, your entire persona changes."

Now he looked mildly insulted. "I can take care of myself," he sniffed.

"I didn't say you couldn't."

"What is it with women, huh?" He grabbed the bottle from my sleeping brother's grasp and took another swig. "Oxford isn't enough for you, now you're demanding we be cavemen as well?"

"You really wouldn't notice if I wasn't here, would you?" I gently took the bottle from him. Enough for one night, buddy. "You could just talk to yourself all night and no one would have to reply."

"No," he said. "I like that you listen to me. Not many people do."

I fought the blood rushing to my cheeks and tried to ask a coherent question. "Why not?"

He shrugged. "Guess I'm not that interesting."

"No, you're terribly interesting." And handsome. And rich. And intelligent. Why was I fighting it? "Maybe all you need is one person to listen to you. Maybe that's all it takes."

He didn't say anything. Every detail of the moment seemed to file itself in my brain in succession, one by one. He was so close, too close, close enough to touch, to kiss. His eyes wouldn't leave mine, he still wouldn't say anything. What was it about those eyes of his that made me want to leap out of my skin? I couldn't stand his stare, and at the same time I wished he'd never look away. I realized, slowly, that he was going to kiss me, that I was going to kiss him, and the knowledge filled me with such happiness that I didn't think to question it. Sure he was drunk, but I wanted the moment so badly I was willing to push that fact aside. "I'm going to kiss you, Ms. Carnahan," he said. "Is that all right?"

I don't know how I was able to speak. "Only if you call me Evelyn from now on."

He smiled, and my heartbeat nearly tripled. "Deal, Evelyn," he whispered and he was going to kiss me he was going to kiss me Rick O'Connell was going to kiss me and--

He suddenly lurched back. "Oh, God. I think I..."

"What? What's wrong?"

"I think I'm going to be sick," he said, and ran.

............Well.

Apparently moonlight and romance were not all they had cracked up to be.

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