Page 19 of The Lovers (Echoes from the Past #1)

ELEVEN

London, England

“Dr. Allenby.” The voice came from far away, like a whisper on the wind, as someone gently shook Quinn by the shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Quinn reluctantly returned to the present, blinking in surprise as the brilliant hues of autumn foliage replaced the stark bleakness of the winter morning.

A man was squatting in front of her, his eyes searching her face for signs of illness.

Madness, more like , Quinn thought as she allowed her gaze to finally focus on him.

He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him, especially at this moment, when she was still straddling two different worlds and felt disoriented and confused.

“Dr. Allenby?” the man prompted.

“Yes, thank you. I’m quite all right. Just daydreaming,” Quinn replied, suddenly self-conscious.

How long had he been trying to get her attention?

She never allowed herself to experience a flashback in public, only handling objects that belonged to the deceased in a controlled environment and on her own, but her spot under the tree felt deceptively private, and she’d felt an overwhelming urge to get a glimpse of the girl found in the chest. Something about her slight form tugged at Quinn’s heart, and she felt a desperate need to at least put a name to the anonymous remains.

Quinn hastily stuffed the brooch back into the plastic bag and shoved it into her bag before turning her attention to the stranger, who was still hovering over her .

“Have we met?” she asked, rather more haughtily than she intended. She’d just realized that he called her by her name, but she couldn’t recall being introduced to him.

“Not officially, no, but I’ve read several of your articles and have seen you on television,” he replied.

His smile seemed friendly, but his gaze was still watchful, as if he wasn’t convinced that she was telling the truth and would suddenly have some sort of a fit.

“Rhys Morgan,” he finally offered as he held out his hand.

“From the BBC. I’ve actually just had a meeting with Gabriel Russell.

I spotted you as I was walking past and thought I’d say hello.

Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked again.

“Yes, Mr. Morgan. I’m all right, as I’ve just explained,” Quinn retorted angrily.

She instantly regretted her cutting tone when she saw his expression go from genuine concern to surprise at being spoken to so rudely.

She hadn’t meant to sound hostile, but she felt foolish in the extreme and just wanted to put her momentary lapse in judgment behind her.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you, Dr. Allenby. I’ll call your office and make an appointment for a meeting in a more formal setting.” The man got to his feet and began to walk away.

“Mr. Morgan. Wait,” Quinn called out as she scrambled to her feet. “I didn’t mean to be rude. You just caught me by surprise, that’s all. Shall we start again?” she asked, giving him her most disarming smile.

Rhys Morgan turned back and studied her for a moment, his expression thoughtful. It took him a moment too long to respond but having made up his mind, he walked back to her and held out his hand. “Rhys Morgan,” he said again as a small smile played about his lips.

“Quinn Allenby,” Quinn responded .

“Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?” he asked carefully. “Or do you already have plans?”

“No, actually I was going to stop by my office to pick up a few papers, but that can wait. A cup of coffee would be lovely.”

“Come on, then, there’s a little Italian bakery not far from here. They make excellent cappuccino, and their cheesecake is a particular weakness of mine.”

“Lead the way,” Quinn said as she picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

Some residue of Elise’s anguish still swirled in Quinn’s mind, but she would have to return to Elise later, when she was on her own and could begin to make sense of what she’d seen.

At this moment, Quinn was more interested in the meeting between Gabe and Rhys Morgan, especially since whatever they’d discussed seemed to involve her.

The bakery was a five-minute walk from the institute and was surprisingly crowded.

Quinn and Rhys settled at a small table by the window that had just been vacated by an elderly couple.

Gentle autumn sunshine illuminated the Formica tabletop, where a laminated menu stood propped up by the sugar bowl.

Mouthwatering smells of baking and freshly ground coffee filled the small space, and Quinn was suddenly glad she’d come.

A cup of strong coffee was just what she needed, and given her recent foray into the seventeenth century, a bit of modern-day company couldn’t hurt either.

“A double espresso and an almond biscotti, please,” Quinn said to the young waitress who approached their table. The woman wrote down Quinn’s order, but her lively dark eyes never left Rhys’s face.

“No cheesecake?” Rhys asked with mock disappointment.

“Too rich for my blood. ”

“Well, maybe you can try mine. It’s not to be missed. I’ll have a slice of strawberry cheesecake and a cappuccino, Giovanna,” Rhys said to the girl, who beamed at him, pleased that he remembered her name.

“Gabriel Russell tells me you’ve just returned from the Middle East,” Rhys said as he silenced his phone and put it in his pocket, a gesture Quinn appreciated.

She hated it when people constantly looked at their phones and felt the need to read every email and reply to every text in the middle of a conversation, as if they were so urgent that they couldn’t wait until later.

Luke always placed his phone next to his plate when they went out to dinner and left it on the nightstand during the night despite Quinn’s objections.

She gritted her teeth every time it pinged, alerting Luke to a new text or notification.

Sometimes he even reached for the phone while they were making love, leaving her boiling with outrage.

Quinn found his behavior to be rude, but Luke laughed it off, telling her that she needed to march boldly into the twenty-first century and accept that technology was an integral part of everyday life.

So was having manners, in Quinn’s opinion.

“Yes, I’ve been back for just over a week. I hate to admit it, but I think I’m still a bit jet-lagged. It seems to get worse every time I travel.” Quinn was giving Rhys a roundabout explanation for her earlier lapse, to which he nodded, understanding and moving on.

“I’d seen the documentary about your incredible find. You spoke about that Roman soldier as if you’d personally known him. It made some obscure foot soldier who died thousands of years ago really come alive for the viewers. How were you able to learn so much about him?” Rhys asked.

“It wasn’t that I knew so much about him, per se. I suppose I imbued him with certain qualities and characteristics that I based on previous research into the standards of the Roman army and the type of young man he might have been. Some of it is fact, some just educated speculation.”

“Which is exactly what I intend this new program to be, and I would like for you to research and narrate it. We want to make these people seem real and relevant, and creating a dramatization based as much on fact as supposition turns them from forgotten skeletons into living, breathing people once again. Who’s to say that it didn’t happen just as we envision it, eh?

What do you say, Dr. Allenby? Are you on board?

” Rhys asked, taking Quinn by surprise. Gabriel had mentioned the BBC’s interest, but she hadn’t expected to get an offer so soon, and in such an informal setting.

She was interested, of course, but she wasn’t ready to commit, not until she’d had a chance to review the proposed compensation and conditions of the contract.

“Forward me your offer, and I will get back to you as soon as I’ve had a chance to look it over,” Quinn replied, hoping that he wouldn’t start talking shop right there and then. He seemed to notice her reluctance and nodded in agreement, instantly returning to the previous topic to put her at ease.

“That sword was magnificent,” Rhys said as he swallowed a forkful of his cheesecake and rolled his eyes in ecstasy.

“Try it,” he insisted. Quinn felt a little awkward eating off a plate of a man she’d just met, but she obediently tried a piece of cake. It really was extraordinary.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Rhys asked enthusiastically, glad to see her reaction. “Baking is a hobby of mine. I started out with bread after my sister-in-law got me a bread machine for Christmas one year. She said it would help me relax.”

“And did it?”

“Surprisingly, yes. There’s a certain sense of satisfaction in producing something from scratch, especially when it brings people pleasure. I graduated to more complicated recipes only recently.”

“Cheesecake?” Quinn asked with a smile.

“Yes, but I just can’t get the consistency right. It’s always too thick, not light like this one.”

Quinn suddenly wondered if he was having her on.

She’d never met Rhys Morgan in person before, but she’d heard stories.

He was one of the toughest producers in the business, a sadistic perfectionist who routinely made his assistants cry.

She’d expected him to be older and stodgier, but the man sitting across from her couldn’t be more than forty-five.

He was casually dressed in jeans and a dark-blue V-neck jumper that set off his amazing eyes.

They were by far his best feature, wide and thick lashed.

His chestnut hair fell into his eyes and brushed the collar of the jumper, and his morning stubble gave him a slightly disheveled appearance.

He hardly looked like the hard-boiled exec coming from a business meeting.

“So, how are you going to do it?” Rhys suddenly asked, cheesecake forgotten.

“Do what?”

“Find out who ‘the Lovers’ were. Gabriel said that if anyone could unravel this mystery, it would be you.”

“I appreciate his vote of confidence,” Quinn replied, mentally sending Gabe a heartfelt thanks.

“I’ve actually already come up with a tentative title for the series: Echoes from the Past . What do you think?” he asked, watching her over the rim of his cup. It seemed that he wasn’t quite finished discussing the project.

“It’s a fitting title for an archeological program,” Quinn agreed .

“I thought that ‘the Lovers’ might be the subject of the first episode. So, have you anything to go on? Even conjecture must be based on something,” Rhys asked, his tone now speculative and brusque.

Quinn shrugged. “I have a few ideas.”

“Like what?”

It was a perfectly legitimate question, but Quinn felt herself bristling.

She thought they were just having a coffee, but suddenly it was a business meeting, one she wasn’t prepared for.

She could hardly tell him that she hoped to obtain the information directly from the source and then try to manipulate it in such a way as to fit with scientific research supported by facts.

“I’ve only just come from the morgue,” she replied defensively.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to rush you. I’m sure you have your own process, but surely you must have a starting point.”

Quinn was annoyed by the twinkle in his eyes.

He was having fun at her expense, enjoying her discomfort.

He clearly liked to be in charge, and he’d totally hijacked the situation and turned it to his advantage, making her feel as if she were interviewing for a job and listing her qualifications like some recent grad resigned to taking the lowliest position just to get their foot in the door.

She didn’t have to answer his questions, not before he made her any kind of offer or discussed the project with her in a professional environment. This impromptu interview was at an end.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan, but I really must be going,” Quinn said as she gathered her things. She pulled two ten-pound notes and threw them on the table. “Cheesecake is on me.”

She saw the amusement on Rhys’s face as she left the bakery and headed toward Paddington Station.

She suddenly wanted to go home. Not only did his questions unsettle her, but she also felt a burning desire to find out more about Elise.

Her situation had been unique, even for the seventeenth century, and Quinn was curious to see how the young woman went from being a young, disillusioned bride to a forgotten skeleton slumbering for centuries below the streets of London.