About Ultramarine: Rewriting History 2
by EM Lynley
182 pages / 46000 words
ISBN: 978-1-61040-273-6
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html, lit, Adobe and Sony optimized pdf, prc, epub
Museum curator Tobin Wyler heads to London to get some answers from his
former flame and suspected art thief Pierce Worthington following the theft
-- and subsequent return -- of the emerald called the Green Sorrow from his
exhibition in New York. He understands why Pierce and his family steal
things, but it's going to take more than understanding to make a future with
Pierce.
When the National Gallery hires Pierce's security firm to help thwart a
robbery, Tobin joins the team, but soon finds what he suspects to be a fake
hanging on the walls of the world-renowned museum. He and Pierce follow the
forgery's trail and find more than they bargain for when they try to uncover
the truth. Can Tobin and Pierce's relationship survive what they discover?
Sample
"Reggie sent you the plane ticket and I knew you wanted
an apol--" Pierce looked away, then back at Tobin. "An explanation."
"Still not buying it." Tobin shook his head but he smiled at the way Pierce,
usually glib and self-aware, was fumbling for words. He'd make Pierce work
for forgiveness, even if Tobin had already made up his mind on that point.
"Doesn't Reggie have a flat not far from here?"
"Yes, but here we have privacy. And a butler."
"And room-service dildos?"
"I've never ordered any if it makes you feel better, but…" Pierce's face
colored almost imperceptibly. "Okay, I just love staying in this place.
Especially…" Pierce's voice trailed off again.
What was he hiding? "Especially what?"
"Afternoon tea." Pierce let the words tumble out. "The Ritz does an amazing
one. Usually have to get a reservation weeks -- months sometimes -- in
advance. Apparently some people come to England just for the Ritz's
afternoon tea."
"Somehow you don't strike me as the afternoon tea sort."
Pierce stuck out his lower lip and glanced away from Tobin.
"Let's go downstairs now for tea. You'll see what I'm talking about." Pierce
whispered against the back of Tobin's neck.
"It's afternoon?" Tobin's voice was still husky as he noticed for the first
time how sunlight streamed through the gap between the heavy silk draperies
that covered both windows.
"Yes, you've wasted the whole day in bed."
"I wouldn't exactly call it a waste." Tobin rolled over so he was
face-to-face with Pierce, their bodies still pressed close.
"You're too kind." Pierce kissed Tobin's neck.
"I'd say you were the kind one," Tobin replied, wondering at how even now
his body still craved Pierce's touch. Then his stomach rumbled and Pierce
laughed.
"So, tea?"
"Do they have those teeny cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off?
"Finger sandwiches. Always. In fact, they're my favorites."
"That always seems like such a stupid waste of time, but I'm famished; I
could probably eat a hundred of 'em."
Pierce gave Tobin a half-glare and looked insulted, and Tobin laughed. He
enjoyed seeing this unexpected side of Pierce. How much of it was joking, he
wondered.
"Maybe you'd prefer the delicious scones with clotted cream and--"
"Clotted cream always sounds so… medical to me." Tobin wrinkled his nose.
"But it is tasty."
"Why do they call them finger sandwiches, anyway? Don't you eat all
sandwiches with your fingers?"
Pierce grinned and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I could think of
other things you could do with your fingers." He pulled Tobin's hand down
between his legs.
Tobin grinned and tickled behind Pierce's balls with a fingertip. "I don't
think this would go over very well with the Ritz clientele, do you?"
"If you did that downstairs, I'd trade it for all the cucumber sandwiches in
the world."
Tobin laughed and cocked an eyebrow. "I'll consider it…"