Insatiable

“Oh,” Meena said, mortified. “Excuse me.”

“No need to apologize,” Lucien said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Meena said, suddenly unable to tear her gaze from his.

Neither of them, it seemed, was able to let the other go.

Instead, they stood looking into each other’s eyes for a good five seconds. Meena’s breathing felt a little shallow. She wondered if he felt the electrical charge that seemed to be pulsing between them…or if it was just her overactive imagination again. Her heartbeat was definitely quicker than usual and a little unsteady. The only sound, besides Jack Bauer’s panting, was that of the elevator dinging off the floors as they descended.

She didn’t want to break the silence between them, because it was the type of silence during which anything might happen.

He might, she felt, even tilt his head down and kiss her…if she kept her mouth shut long enough to let this happen.

But she couldn’t, of course.

“What happened to you that you can’t watch things where characters get tortured?” she asked in a voice that had gone a little hoarse.

She watched his face carefully to gauge his reaction.

But there was no discernible reaction in his features. Instead, he countered her question with one of his own.

“What happened to you,” he asked, “that you can’t watch things where characters die?”

She dropped her arms from his at once and turned toward the elevator door just as the letter L lit up and the door slid open to reveal the lobby.

“Oh,” she said with an airy laugh as she dragged a badly misbehaving Jack Bauer out into the lobby. “I just love happy endings. That’s all.”

“So do I,” Lucien said, following her with a smile. “Tomorrow I’m going to start watching this television show of yours.”

“Oh,” Meena said, delighted. “That’ll be a good episode. Cheryl is making out again with Father Juan Carlos, and the town gossip sees them, and all hell breaks loose. Definitely not to be missed.”

Lucien laughed. “Then I’ll be glued to the screen.”

They breezed past Pradip, who waved to them cheerfully with a “Good evening, Miss Harper!”

Then they strolled out into the evening air, which had a briskness to it now that night had fallen. Meena, feeling happier than she could remember being in ages, started in the direction she and Jack Bauer usually walked.

But Lucien took her by the arm and gently steered her in another direction.

“This way,” he said. “I have something I want to show you.” Surprised, she smiled. “Really?”

Then she realized he was walking her away from two men who appeared to be having something of an argument in front of 912 Park…and also in the opposite direction from St. George’s Cathedral.

And her heart swelled. He was protecting her!

It had been ages since a man (aside from her doormen, who didn’t count, because she gave them generous tips at Christmas) had cared anything about her physical protection. Jon seemed to think she could more than adequately take care of herself (and besides, he didn’t count either; he was her brother). Her father had pretty much given up speaking to her about more than perfunctory matters once she’d developed her ability to envision people’s future deaths (including his own). Both her parents seemed to view her as some sort of biological freak. Whenever she visited them in Florida now, Meena overheard them arguing in hushed whispers over which side of the family she’d inherited her ability from (there’d been more than a hint that Great-Aunt Wilhelmina might be responsible).

And while it was true that she could take care of herself-the odd bat attack aside-it was terribly gallant of Lucien to try to protect her. It made her feel warm and feminine.

Who said chivalry was dead?

“What sort of surprise?” Meena asked, containing her glee with effort.

“One I think you’ll like,” he said. They were headed up Seventy-ninth Street, toward Fifth Avenue. That part of town was devoted exclusively to deluxe apartment buildings, hotels, and Central Park…

And one other building, located at Eighty-second and Fifth, which they were fast approaching.

“The Met?” Meena looked up at Lucien curiously. He’d reached for her hand as they crossed Fifth Avenue and started toward the enormous building, sitting so imposingly lit up against the night sky. A few people sat along the steps, chatting, smoking, even reading books in the glow from the illuminated columns. Trying to ignore the tingle of excitement that shot up her arm at the touch of his skin to hers, Meena stammered, “But…but the Met…it’s closed this time of night.”

She wasn’t certain that as a foreigner-even one who taught at a university and read the classics for fun-he fully understood.

“To most people,” Lucien said with a mysterious smile. “Follow me.”

And, still holding her hand in his own, he guided her up the long steps that led to the front doors of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Meena, distracted by Lucien’s touch, forgot to hold on to Jack Bauer’s leash as tightly as she should have, and just as they got to an unobtrusive side door, he managed to dart off.

“Oh!” she cried. “Jack!”

She dropped Lucien’s hand to chase after her dog. Jack ran only as far as a group of students who were sitting a few yards away, listening to one another’s iPods and sharing a pizza, in which Jack was extremely interested. By the time she’d caught the dog up in her arms and apologized to the students, who smiled warmly at her, she turned back and found Lucien standing with the door open, waiting for her to join him inside the darkened museum.

“Oh,” she said, glancing behind her. No one on the steps appeared to have noticed that her date had just broken into a New York City landmark.

Or so she supposed. Surely the prince didn’t have a key to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Or did he? Maybe all Romanian princes-slash-professors did. “You can’t just…How did you…?” She broke off, laughing. “Lucien, how did you get in there?”

He held up a black card with a magnetic strip on the back. “I told you,” he said. “A friend of mine is giving a lecture here this week. I thought you might want to see what he’s talking about. Come in. It’s quite all right.”

She still hesitated, glancing around her. “But…aren’t there security guards?”

“Don’t worry about them. I’ll take care of them.”

Meena raised her eyebrows. He would take care of them? What did that mean?

Oh…that he would bribe them. Of course.

Lucien was a prince. He was rich. He was used to getting his way. With everyone. Especially staff.

She supposed he had dozens of staff. Maids. Butlers, even. Staff for his summer palace. Pilots for his private jet.

Meena had staff-a housekeeper who came once every other week and refused to do laundry.

“But,” she murmured lamely, “I’ve got the dog.”

“No one cares about a little dog.” He looked incredibly handsome, standing there with the darkness behind him, one hand stretched out to her, the other keeping the door open for her. “Trust me, Meena.”

The incredible part was that she did. She hardly knew him at all.

But she did trust him.

Why wouldn’t she? He’d already saved her life, and had done so by risking his own.

What was a little breaking and entering, compared to that?

But Meena had never been a risk taker…not on her own behalf. Leisha had nailed it on the head when she’d accused Meena of having a hero complex. Meena would do anything to help save the life of someone else (if only they’d allow her to).

But when it came to herself? Though she could look into the future of complete strangers, she’d never been able to see what fate had in store for her.

And so too many times she’d done what was easiest-stay with a boyfriend who didn’t really love her; not complain about a coworker who was taking advantage of her-instead of what she knew, deep down, was right.