Marching briskly to an unmarked door, she punched in the temporary security code she’d been given by the museum’s PR director. Luke reached around her to pull the door open, so the sleeve of his jacket brushed her shoulder, and his big body angled close to her. If she leaned a little to the right, she would come up against his muscular chest.

She practically ran through the door.

Luke followed her into an empty, utilitarian corridor and looked around. “How’d you get access to this?”

“Oh, I’ve arranged enough VIP tours of the museum that the PR director trusts me.” In addition, she might have hinted that Luke would make a donation if he enjoyed his visit to the Met, as some of her other clients had.

She pulled up the map she’d been e-mailed and started in the direction that would lead them to the Temple of Dendur. He strode along beside her, his boots thudding on the commercial-grade carpeting. She tried hard not to notice the subtle creak of his leather jacket, or the way the worn denim of his jeans outlined his thigh muscles.

They passed through a catering kitchen used to serve the parties that took place in the venue and emerged on the stone platform beside the ancient Egyptian temple. She felt bad that Luke couldn’t approach it from the front to get the full effect of the dramatic setting, but this offered less risk of him being recognized and bothered.

Still, the huge exhibition space with its vast ceiling and curtain wall of glass made a strong impact. Luke stopped and whistled softly as he took in his surroundings.

“The big pool of water surrounding the temple is supposed to represent the Nile River,” Miranda said, drawing on the research she’d done. “The decorative carvings on the base of the temple are stylized papyrus and lotus plants.”

Luke started walking toward the front of the temple.

“It was built in 10 BC under the rule of Caesar Augustus,” Miranda continued. As they came around to face the entrance with its two tall columns, she said, “The winged disk is—”

“The symbol of the sky god Horus,” Luke finished for her. He gave her a slanted smile. “As a kid, I got interested in the Egyptians. Some of it stuck.”

“And you let me babble on about it. A friend would tell me to shut up.” Miranda worried that she had sounded patronizing with her mini lecture.

He sauntered into the first room of the temple, his gaze skimming the carvings of pharaohs making offerings to the gods Isis and Osiris. “I don’t know anything about this temple. I just recognize some of the symbols. Like that one means pharaoh.”

“Which is more than I knew.”

He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and looked down at her with a gleam in his eye. “Well, the truth is, I like to listen to your voice.”

“My voice? What do you mean?”

“It’s all smooth and soothing. It just kind of washes over you.”

There he went, nudging things past the friendship line. She didn’t know whether to flirt back or try to keep things on a client-concierge basis. It would be easier if the molecules of her body didn’t do a jig every time he smiled at her. “You mean my voice puts you to sleep.”

He shook his head. “No, it makes you want to sort of bathe in it, like a hot shower.”

A totally inappropriate picture of Luke standing naked under a showerhead sprang into her mind. He would rival any of the perfectly muscled statues in the European sculpture gallery. Heat cascaded through her, and she thrust the thought away. Better to keep the flirting to a minimum before she did something she regretted. “Thank you. I think.”

She turned away to drag her mind off her fantasy of Luke’s nude body and noticed that a couple of people were casting speculative looks at him and whispering to each other. He was either oblivious or ignoring them, because he continued to examine the bas-relief carvings on the temple walls.

“We’d better get moving,” she said under her breath. “I think some adoring fans have spotted you.”

Resignation cast a cloud over his face. He nodded and walked out of the temple. “Keep walking,” he said, taking her elbow to propel her forward. She forced her attention away from the delicious power of his touch. “It’s when you stand still that they get up the nerve to pounce.”

“I want you to see it from the front, though,” she said, veering toward the huge reflecting pool.

He let her guide him to a vantage point that showed the entire vista of seated statues on the edge of the pool, the temple’s entrance gate, and the temple itself. She loved the stark majesty of it.

“You’re right. It’s worth the risk of getting ambushed by autograph hounds,” he said. His face was alight with the kind of wonder she’d hoped to evoke. She let him stand there, drinking it in, as she kept an eye out for fans. The people who’d been staring at him in the temple were coming closer, so she tugged him gently in the opposite direction.

“We’re going to duck into another side door and head for the Astor Chinese Garden Court,” she said. “That ought to shake them off.”

She got him through the door and into the staff elevator. “How did they notice you so fast?”

He shrugged with that gleam in his eye. “My charisma.”

She took a step away from him and tilted her head. He had his shoulder propped against the elevator wall, and one booted ankle crossed over the other. He had more than charisma. He made her want to run her hands over every inch of his body. “I guess there is something there,” she said, letting herself respond in kind this once.