It was Nora’s turn to be startled, and she shifted from foot to foot as she responded. “Yes. Have we met?”
Perhaps he was a benefactor she had spoken to at a museum fundraiser, but it seemed unlikely. Nora would remember somebody with a jawline as sharp his.
He shook his head, making the curls on his forehead flop back and forth.
“No, but I can’t believe my luck in running into you.”
Nora was saved from struggling to form an adequate response when the man barreled on to explain himself.
“You see, I’ve been doing some extensive research on weaponry from this era, and I kept coming across your name. I came here today to continue my research, but I never considered I might get lucky enough to actually meet you.”
Nora’s mind warred with itself on whether she should be flattered or unsettled, so the only thing she could think to say was, “Well, here I am.”
“Here you are indeed.”
In the silence following his odd statement, the battle between unease and flattery intensified until her stomach fluttered. The warm color of his eyes was pushing her towards flattered, but Nora reminded herself that she was at work. Distracting herself, she asked, “So what exactly did you come here to study?”
The man tore his gaze away from her and turned back to the case of hoplite armor,
“You see, I’m a literature professor at Northwestern University here in the city. I focus on classics with a particular emphasis on the works of ancient Greece. I had read in the paper about the new weapons that would be arriving here, and I was curious if your team would be interested in a sort of…professional collaboration for the sake of research?”
Nora chewed at her perpetually chapped bottom lip as she considered. A partnership in academia could be valuable to her research, but it hadn’t been remotely what she’d expected when she’d decided to approach a museum visitor on a whim.
“Do you have a business card?” she hedged.
The man rifled in his weathered leather messenger bag and surfaced with a card, which he offered to Nora.
“Dr. Adam Scott,” she read aloud.
“At your service,” he responded with an inclination of his head. For all his forwardness, he was decidedly charming.
Nora dug into her own crammed purse. It took her a few moments, but she located one of her own business cards and offered it to Adam.
He peered down at it and commented, “Zvezda. That’s an interesting last name.”
“It’s Russian. Constantly getting mispronounced.”
“Nora, I’d love to grab some tea together and discuss how we might be able to assist one another with our research.” He nodded towards a small café at the end of the gallery.
Nora shook her head. “I only came up here to grab some lunch, and I have to be getting back down to the office soon. You can email me, though.”
“In that case, I look forward to seeing you soon.” He offered her his hand to shake and Nora took it after the slightest of hesitations, finding his skin warm and rough under her palm. The back of her neck tingled.
“It was a pleasure to meet you Adam,” she responded, releasing his hand and taking a step back.
“The pleasure was all mine, Nora.”
Nora turned to walk away, but as she retreated, she felt his gaze trained on her for an inordinately long time. When she reached the bottom of the stairs that headed up towards the cafeteria, she glanced behind her, only to find he had turned back to the case of armor. He looked at the Corinthian helmet with bold red plumage with rapt attention, just as he had when she’d first approached him. She shook her head at the oddity of it all before marching up the stairs in pursuit of some tacos.
* * *
Despite Mandy having encouragedher to take her time during lunch, Nora found herself back at her desk with her tacos. After her unusual interaction in the museum, she had opted to eat in the far less populated office, taking the opportunity to catch up on some related research.
She browsed through articles pulled up on her phone and tried—but failed—not to get sour cream on the screen as she scrolled. She had just started in on an article detailing the use of DNA sequencing from animal hides to determine the geographical origins of shields in Africa when the phone vibrated in her hand with an incoming call.
Her heart stuttered in her chest at the name on the caller ID before her brows knit together in confusion. Drew Coleman.
Her thumb hovered over the ignore button, but she didn’t press it. They hadn’t spoken since breaking things off months ago; it seemed odd that he would call her in the middle of the workday—unless it was something urgent.
