After taking another look around, especially taking mental notes of the men in suits, Ben made his way back into the study at the back of the library. He wished he hadn’t left his sidearm in the car, but he didn’t want to bring his gun to an art exchange.
"Are you about done here?" Ben asked Tara in a hurried tone. He noticed everything was packed up, and the case sealed shut. She held yet another bronze duck in her hand. It was about the size of a paperweight. The smile on her face made him relax, but only for a minute as he recognized that tingling sensation refusing to leave him. Tara finished packing her bag before heading over to him and grabbing him by the hand.
An immediate shock of surprise and lust practically knocked him back. He snatched his hand away from Tara unexpectedly like she’d scalded him.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, stepping away from him, "Sorry, Ben. I just wanted to show you where to grab the case, so it doesn't jostle the contents as you lift it off of the desk.”
“Yeah, sorry, sure,” he flexed his fingers in and out before following her to the desk. He could kick himself for the look in her eyes. Mr. Mallard missed the exchange entirely as he fussed around with the duck figurines lining the shelves along the back wall.
“Watch your fingers around that hinge, it might pinch,” she told him with her voice and demeanor continuing to shrink away from him.
Ben wanted to tell her he hadn’t been touched by a woman in months, over a year, if he were counting. But, he didn’t know her. Tara didn’t deserve an explanation, and still, he wanted to give her one. First, however, he needed to get her out of the house. He grabbed the case where she’d told him to and followed her outside to their rental. He watched Tara go out of her way to avoid touching him as she opened the hatch for the trunk space. The trunk’s net cover and bungee cord let him secure the case next to Tara’s luggage. The sound of the trunk slamming shut in unison with Tara’s door, made him pause outside of the car. Someone or something was watching them as his eyes surveyed the land.
Ben forced himself to get inside the car, willing himself to rein in his emotions and drive away from the weird mansion decorated with bronze ducks. The minute they were out of the front gate, he let out a sigh of relief.
“Are you okay, Ben?” Tara asked him with concern in her eyes.
“I think that house and all of the ducks were just getting to me. Let’s get on the road. I can drive the entire way if you'd like, or we can take turns. We'd probably cover a lot more ground taking shifts, but I wasn't given an exact date as to when you wanted to be back."
He was rambling. He didn’t ramble unless he was nervous. Ben’s dark brown eyes cut to Tara, whose eyes were fixed out of the window. It made him wonder how a woman he didn't know made him nervous, a gorgeous woman who peaked his curiosity. The way her pale blue eyes ignited with excitement when she got her hands on the artifacts made him smile. Right now, she was ignoring him.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “Can we start over here?”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” she told him with her gaze glued to the scenery passing by. “No reason to start over or anything. We can take turns driving. I don’t know what I was expecting.”
"Probably to enjoy LA for more than the two hours it took for you to go over your checklist. You spent more time on the plane than enjoying this city. You should take some time off and come back," he replied.
She scoffed, “That’s exactly why I’m on this grunt’s errand in the first place, some much needed time off, well, time away from the museum. I’m sure if I didn’t take this gig, I’d be out on some sort of forced leave or fired. Things got weird back home.”
“Weird, how? Weird like the house we just left or a guy who’s in love with bronze ducks for no reason whatsoever?”
Tara laughed, making Ben crave the sound. She turned toward him, “It’s not exactly for no reason. His last name is Mallard.”
“So what’s a guy named Mallard, who’s obsessed with ducks,” Ben rolled his eyes, “Doing with a dagger from Egypt?”
“Mr. Mallard’s tastes are a tad unique, but he uses the pieces to promote fundraising efforts. If he doesn’t have something already in his collection, or he’s into a rare piece like the dagger, he’ll borrow them to drive up his donations. His dinners are pretty legendary in the industry.”
“So does he serve duck at these dinners?” A boyish smirk warmed his face.
Tara would have spit out water if she were drinking anything. Her laughter filled the car with lightness to help the earlier tension fade away, “Goodness, I hope not. Speaking of dinner, I sure can eat.”
“You’re right, we went straight from the airport to Mr. Mallard. Why don’t we check in somewhere and grab a bite?”
“That sounds great.”
The rest of the drive passed by with polite conversation sprinkled with jokes about the ducks. They’d only been on the road for over an hour when they decided to pull into a hotel along the interstate. Tara’s face sank nearly as fast as the sun.
“This isn’t,” she hesitated.
He nodded, “I know, it’s not the greatest place, but it’s the closest three-starred review to the highway. The reviews said it
