“I wouldn’t really know, having barely managed to concoct something that resembles pudding.” I rested my head on his shoulder. “That concludes my cooking expertise.”
But Derek had tuned me out to scrutinize another page. When he turned it upside down and continued staring, I sat back. “I know you. You’re serious. You think those little squiggles actually mean something, don’t you? Some sort of code? But how can that be? This book was written hundreds of years ago.”
He blew out a breath, then pointed to the page. “This group of symbols definitely looks like some sort of classic code.”
“A secret recipe, maybe.”
“I doubt it.”
I glanced more closely at the page. Numerous odd-looking characters were lined up neatly in the margins. They resembled the type of signs and symbols I’d seen in photographs of the walls of the pyramids. Hieroglyphics. Except here in the margins, it looked more like doodling. There were squares and triangles, astrological signs, crescent moon shapes pointed in different directions, an eyeball or two, a few infinity signs, oddly shaped stars, dots and dashes. And numbers. Lots of numbers in random order.
Now I was frowning. “Maybe Obedience was making notes for the next edition but wanted to keep her revisions a secret.”
He glanced up and stared at me almost as intently as he’d studied the book. “No honor among cooks? So she created a code to keep from having her recipes stolen? Perhaps.”
“What else could it be?”
“Probably nothing.”
“But you don’t look convinced.”
He shrugged. “No, your theory is as good as any. It’s just that…Well, it’s nothing. Yet.” He resumed his study of the pages, continuing to turn them upside down and sideways. After several long minutes, he set the pages down on the table, pushed his chair back, and managed to stand with me still in his arms.
“Is it bedtime?” I asked, in the mood for romance after cuddling in his arms all this time.
“Not quite,” he said.
I could tell he was distracted, especially when he tipped me until I was standing with both feet on the floor. So much for cuddling.
“Do you mind if I make a quick phone call?” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the rest of the cookbook pages and walked toward his office in the second bedroom.
I laughed as I stared at his back. “Oo-kay.” The romance was over, apparently.
He stopped, chuckled sheepishly, and returned to plant a quick, hard kiss on my lips. “Forgive me, love. I need to call my brother Dalton.”
“Oh.” I felt instant guilt for teasing him. “Is he all right?”
“Yes, he’s fine.” He looked preoccupied and he was still clutching the cookbook pages. “But I have a few questions for him, and he’s going to want to see this.”
“How fun. Does he like to cook?”
“No, he likes to solve puzzles. He’s a cryptographer with MI6.”
“Huh. My mistake.”
He chuckled again. “It’ll only take a few minutes and I’ll be back to help you with the dishes.”
“Sounds perfect.”
I finished the dishes, changed into my pajamas, washed my face and brushed my teeth. Derek was still on the phone, so I sat down to watch some TV.
At some point, Derek woke me up. My head full of fuzz, I looked around and realized I’d fallen asleep on the couch. “Your brother. What happened?”
“I’m sorry, love. My phone call took longer than I thought it would.”
“That’s okay.” I rubbed my eyes. “It’s time for bed.”
“Yes, it is.” He picked me up in his arms again and carried me into the bedroom.
“That’s nice,” I mumbled, my mouth pressed up against his shirt. “Mm, you smell good.”
He didn’t reply, but I felt him smile.
As we got into bed, he said, “Do you mind a houseguest for a few days?”
“Guess not,” I said, half asleep already. “Whoozit?”
“My brother, Dalton.”
*
Late the next afternoon, Dalton Stone arrived on my doorstep carrying a steel briefcase and a small duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His jacket was wrinkled, his hair was mussed, and he was in desperate need of a shave.
I hadn’t met Dalton Stone before, but I knew this was him—and not just because Derek was standing there as well. No, I knew because despite his disheveled appearance, Dalton could’ve been Derek’s twin. Both men were pure male, formidable, and simply gorgeous. I found myself struggling for breath just staring at the two of them.
Like his brother, Dalton was tall and muscular, with dark brown hair and dark blue eyes. Looking into those eyes, I could tell that, also like Derek, Dalton Stone was capable of killing a man with his bare hands if he had to. He stared back at me, piercing me with his narrowed gaze. I would have shivered in fear if I hadn’t already been on the receiving end of that same look from Derek more than once. Instead, I smiled at him.
“Brooklyn, I presume?” Dalton said in that same clipped British accent I found so sexy and alluring and charming and dangerous and—