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The dust bunny abruptly lost interest in the evening’s adventures when the sled came to a halt at the hole-in-the-wall exit. Oliver watched her bound off the vehicle, chortle a cheery farewell, and vanish into the maze of tunnels.

“Looks like the party’s over as far as she’s concerned,” he said.

Leona sighed. “I’m going to miss her.”

He got a shock of knowing. I’m going to miss you , Leona Griffin .

He turned to look at her, trying to pin down exactly what he was experiencing. It was as if he had just turned a corner in the Underworld and walked into a kaleidoscope of sensations. He was getting hard. This was not a good time for that particular distraction.

Whatever was happening here wasn’t just about the physical attraction, although there was plenty of that, at least on his side. She looked sexy as hell sitting there on the sled bench, his evening jacket draped around her shoulders, her gently rounded legs bare from her upper thighs all the way down to the high heels.

Her hair was the color of whiskey. It had been pinned up in a sleek, gleaming bun at the back of her neck for most of the evening, but now several tendrils had come free and danced around her ears. They framed her intelligent, watchful hazel eyes and her strong, feminine profile. He came from a family of strong women. He recognized the type on sight.

Whatever happened after tonight, one thing was clear: he would do whatever it took to see Leona again. The realization had been coalescing ever since it had dawned on him that she had seen him at the reception—really seen him. She had not dismissed him as just another face in the crowd even though he had used his talent to render himself socially invisible. She had sensed that he was not who he pretended to be. And she had concluded, quite rightly, that he was a potential threat.

Very few people sensed that threat. He did his best to camouflage it. But you saw it, Leona Griffin. And you weren’t afraid. I like that about you. I like it a lot.

For a moment he wasn’t sure why he liked knowing she could see him so clearly. Then it struck him that it was because he could relax when he was with her. He could drop the camouflage.

His initial reactions to her had been curiosity and fascination. There were a lot of layers beneath the surface of Leona Griffin, temporarily famous para-archaeologist.

Now he was way beyond curiosity and fascination. He was aware of an exhilarating anticipation. It was good to be in the company of a woman who saw more of the truth about him than most people did—risky, but good. Yes, they were wary of each other—each had an agenda—but they confronted each other as equals.

Reluctantly he got out of the sled, picked up Pandora’s box, and inserted it into his day pack. Leona stepped down from the platform and joined him. She watched him sling the pack over his shoulder but she made no comment. Together they crossed to the ragged hole in the quartz wall.

“It isn’t necessary to walk me home,” she said.

“It is,” he said. “For me.”

She abandoned the attempt to dissuade him and moved into the rubble-strewn opening in the tunnel. He admired the way she navigated the chunks of quartz on the ground. It couldn’t have been easy, not in the very high heels.

She led the way to a mag-steel vault door that sealed the entrance to the warehouse basement.

He was aware of the whisper of her briefly heightened energy field when she rezzed the lock. The sight of her enveloped in his jacket gave him an intoxicating rush. The very last thing he wanted to do tonight was take her home and leave her there while he went back to his boring, semi-furnished apartment.

“I’ll give you the psi-code so you can use this gate to return to the sled,” she said as the vault door swung open.

“Thanks.” He decided not to mention that he could rezz the door with the lock pick. By offering up the code she had just given him a small measure of trust. He valued that too much to tell her he didn’t need the gift.

They moved into darkness and the stale, faintly moldy smell of yet another old basement. He rezzed the flashlight on his phone and saw the stairs against the far wall.

They climbed the steps to the ground-level floor of an abandoned warehouse and crossed to another door. This one opened onto an alley filled with light, drifting fog.

He de-rezzed the flashlight. There was no need for the device now. The Dark Zone was built close to one of the eight massive walls that enclosed the ancient Dead City at the heart of Illusion Town. At night the neighborhood glowed with the green radiance infused into it by the ruins.

“Thank goodness for the fog,” Leona said. “With luck, no one will see me in your coat.”

“You’re worried about the outfit? This is Illusion Town. No one will look twice at a woman wearing an evening jacket and high heels, not at this time of night.”

“That might be true in some of the other zones, where the casinos and clubs are located. But the DZ is a neighborhood. My sister and I grew up here. My parents have a business here, and so does my sister. The locals know me. If one of them sees me dressed like this, walking back to my loft with a man who happens to be wearing the rest of this outfit, there will be gossip.”

“I’m sorry about the jacket but it was the best I could do under the circumstances. You’re the one who decided to burn the dress.”

“True.”

“It was a brilliant move, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

She walked briskly, he noticed. The tap-tap-tap of her heels on the pavement echoed in the night. She was eager to get home. Eager to get rid of him?

They reached the entrance of the alley and moved out onto the sidewalk.

“My place is just around the corner,” Leona said.

She was almost trotting now. He lengthened his stride to keep up and wondered if he ought to be offended.

They had the sidewalk to themselves. Until they didn’t.

A small cluster of cheerfully inebriated people spilled out of a narrow lane and into their path. They wore T-shirts emblazoned with the logo of a sports team and it was clear they were celebrating a win. Mugs of beer were raised on high as they half sang, half shouted a college song.

“On to victory, on to victory, we never stop and we never run…”

Leona came to a sudden halt. “Damn.”

Oliver rezzed his senses, took her arm, and steered her around the small throng. “Just a bunch of kids from out of town. They aren’t interested in us.”

The small group went past, paying no attention to them.

“Thanks,” Leona said. “That really is a handy little trick you’ve got there.”

“It has its uses,” he said.

He did not realize that he must have sounded grim until she shot him a quick, searching look.

“You don’t seem too happy about it,” she said.

“You know the old saying. There’s a dark side to every talent. ”

“What’s the dark side to yours?”

“This isn’t the time for that particular discussion.”

“I understand.”

That gave him pause. “Got a problem with your talent for picking psi-locks? Strikes me as a very convenient skill set.”

She stopped in front of a door and gave him a cool smile. “As you pointed out, this isn’t a good time to discuss the subject. If you’ll give me your address, I’ll make sure your coat gets returned to you.”

“Keep the coat,” he said. “I’ll pick it up the next time I see you.”

“When you invite me to the Rancourt Museum to examine the crystal? Excellent.” She paused as if a thought had just struck her. “Do you live in Illusion Town?”

“I’ve got an apartment in the Emerald Zone. Close to work. The museum and the Foundation headquarters are located in the EZ.”

Her eyes glinted with renewed suspicion. “I still find it hard to believe that I’ve never heard of the Rancourt Museum. Where, exactly, is it located in the Emerald Zone?”

He braced one hand against the doorframe and smiled a little. “Down below in the Underworld, of course. For security reasons.”

“It’s so easy to hide stuff in the tunnels.”

“Even an entire museum.”

“Apparently. Well, thanks, again, for the rescue tonight.”

“Anytime. I’m going to be out of town for a few days.”

“That priority you mentioned earlier.”

“Right. But if you’ll give me your phone number, I’ll call when I return and we can set up a date.”

“A date?” she repeated, as if the word were unfamiliar.

“For you to examine the pyramid crystal,” he said, going for smooth.

“Right. A date.”

She opened her evening bag and took out her phone. When they exchanged numbers, he got another little thrill. This made it all so much more real. He was going to see her again. Soon.

“Good night, Oliver,” she said. She started to close the door and then paused. “Do you think you can find your way back to the warehouse and the hole-in-the-wall where you left the sled? The DZ can be a little confusing.”

“No problem.”

“Okay, then.”

She closed the door gently in his face. He waited until he heard the bolt slide home and her footsteps on the stairs. Reluctantly he tightened his grip on the pack and headed back to the warehouse, savoring the energy-spiked fog.

He was going to see Leona again, but first he had a long, boring road trip ahead of him. Priorities.

Damn.