Pendergast watched as Morgana flipped through the new issue of the Museum Journal. She absently sought for the glass of wine he had placed before her on the cherry wood coffee table. With one long graceful hand, he took the glass and handed it to her, their fingers touching, causing their eyes to meet and she saw he was flushed.

“How do you find the wine?” Pendergast asked, not caring but not wanting Morgana’s attention to stray.

“It is very good Aloyisius. You have the finest taste as usual,” she said smiling, playful, wondering at his seeming discomfort.

Pendergast moved closer to Morgana, and cautiously, tenderly brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. Morgana’s eyes widened but he saw the desire in their deep brown depths, causing a stirring in his loins.

“This is hard for me Morgana, as you know we have an unusual history. Suffice to say I have not been with a woman since the untimely death of my wife. None have intrigued me, until I met you. At first I was attracted to your work, your knowledge and the passion of your heart. Now, I find that my heart has found life and the cause is though you.” This...   read more »