“Not really, but it’s important to consider every possibility.”
“Okay, we’ve considered it and discarded it. So you actually think Robin knowingly carried this thing all the way from India to the U.S.”
“Not knowingly, perhaps. She might’ve been unaware of it. It was hidden in something, perhaps. But I definitely believe she brought it back with her.”
“In the book,” I muttered. My spine began to tingle, and it wasn’t from Derek’s enthralling touch. I inched away from him so I could think more carefully. “Derek, Robin brought back the book.”
“The book?” he repeated slowly. “What book? From India? Have I seen it?”
I felt my cheeks getting warm at the thought of showing Derek the Kama Sutra. “You haven’t seen it yet. It’s a rare book a friend of Robin’s mother sent. They want me to restore it.”
“May I see it?”
“Of course.” I dashed down the hall to the closet. Derek followed me and watched as I unlocked the panel that revealed the false floor. “This is the book I was worried about when the big ugly guy broke into my place.”
“Why were you worried about it?”
“You’ll understand when you see it.” I lifted the shopping bag out of its hiding place and handed it to Derek, then closed and locked the panel.
“You’ve aroused my curiosity.”
“Let’s go to my workroom,” I said, leading the way. “The light’s better in there.”
Once we were seated at the worktable, I pulled the old leather satchel from the shopping bag and unbuckled it, then slipped the book out.
“That’s an interesting old saddlebag,” he said.
“It’s cool, isn’t it? But wait till you see this.” I unwrapped the white cotton cloth and pushed the book toward Derek.
“Well, that is certainly no souvenir,” he said. His tone was light, but his jaw flexed with tension.
“It’s in decent condition, so go ahead and look through it. You won’t do any damage.”
He stared at the red leather cover and inspected the jewels. “Magnificent.”
“It really is.”
He turned it so that the spine faced him. “What is… Ah, the Kama Sutra. Another detail you neglected to share.”
“Did I?” I smiled. “There goes my brain again.”
With a half grin, he said, “Is that why you didn’t show it to me?”
“Of course not.”
It was clear by his sardonic expression that he didn’t believe me. “Has anyone else seen it?”
“Just Ian.”
“You showed Ian the Kama Sutra and not me?” He laughed. “What am I to think of that?”
“Oh, no. I just knew he would appreciate it-you know, intellectually. Because it’s a book. Not because…” Oh, God, was my face red?
“I do love seeing you flustered,” he said, his smile broadening.
I frowned. “Then you must be in heaven right now.”
He bent over, kissed me, then murmured, “Close to it.” Then he took hold of the book. “Well, let’s have a look.”
“Yes, good idea.”
After a moment of studying the cover, he said, “I’m going to assume these jewels are the real thing.”
“That’s my understanding.” I pointed out the obvious gems. “Sapphires, rubies, emeralds. I think these small clear gems are diamonds, but I’ll have to verify that.”
“And Robin’s mother sent this to you?”
“Yes. It belongs to her mother’s friend.” I gave him an abbreviated history of Shiva Quinn and her friend Rajiv Mizra. “Anyway, Shiva is a bit of a collector and Rajiv is, too. Abraham once recommended me to Shiva, so it was nice of Shiva to pass my name on to Rajiv.”
“It certainly was. Does Rajiv plan to sell it?”
“He’s not sure. He wants to know how much it’s worth before he decides.”
“So you’re to estimate its cost on the open market? Is that why you showed it to Ian?”
I nodded. “Yes, and because I knew he’d go ape over it.”
“I’m sure he did.” He continued to study the book, turning it this way and that. “What does the restoration entail?”
“Basically, I’ll separate the leather from the boards, take it apart, reinforce the ties and the boards and the spine, repair some light tears, clean it up, and put it back together, stronger than ever. I probably won’t remove the gems. It would be too difficult and I would hate to lose one. I’ll use an air gun to get rid of the dust and I’ll wipe away as much grime as I can.”
He rubbed his fingers over several of the colorful gems embedded in the peacock’s feathers on the front cover. “Delicate work.”
“Yes. There are several torn pages, and fixing them will be the most challenging part.” And despite the situation and my fears for Robin’s safety and the ludicrous idea that she might be a spy, I was dying to get my hands on the book again. Just staring at it made me want to reach for my knives and get busy. So I curled my hands into fists and dropped them in my lap. “For the most part, it’s in excellent condition. Very strong. It should repair easily. I’m dying to get started.”
“Why haven’t you started yet?”
I laughed. “Distractions, remember?”
He picked up the book and stared down the edge of the front cover, then pressed it carefully. “It’s padded.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll remove it?”
“Right. I’ve got to check the batting, strengthen the spine, and reglue the endpapers.”
“Can you do it tomorrow?”
I regarded him warily. “You think there’s a miniature flash drive hiding in there?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
With a nod, I said, “I’ll start on it tomorrow morning.”
“Good. The sooner you do that, the sooner we might have some answers to our questions. And it just might save Robin’s life.”
“That’s good enough for me.”
He studied the book for another few minutes. Opened the pages, ran his hands over the calligraphy, examined the paintings and brushstrokes, inspected the positions. “It’s quite extraordinary.”
“Yes.” I sounded breathless. I’d been just as fascinated watching him as he was with exploring the book.
“And it’s written in French,” he murmured. “That’s unexpected, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
He looked up at me. “Have you studied the Kama Sutra?”
“Only a bit,” I said, as I ran my fingers over the corded spine. “I suppose everyone has a vague knowledge of it. You know, positions and such. But wasn’t it written as a social primer of sorts? Marital etiquette or something like that?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what it is.” He turned a page and stared at the French script. Was he translating the words? “An Englishman, Richard Burton, is said to have written the definitive English translation. I was compelled to study it extensively for an assignment once upon a time.”
I laughed. “Oh, don’t stop there. I want to hear about this assignment.”
“I can’t say too much-only that one of our own government operatives had been co-opted by a sex therapist working at a spa somewhere on the coast of Sardinia, who planned to extort certain secrets.”
“Sounds like fun.”
He chuckled. “Elucidating, yes. Fun? Not really.”
“Well, that’s a shame.”
He lifted the book again and perused the ornate red leather cover. “This is really outstanding.”
“I think so, too.” I gave up, took a deep breath, reached over, and stroked the spine. “What does Vatsyayana mean?”
He looked amused as our hands touched. “He’s the author.”
“Oh.” Warmth spread up my neck. My cheeks would be turning pink any second now. Again. “I guess I should’ve known that. And I should probably know what the words Kama Sutra mean, but I don’t.”
“It’s Sanskrit,” he said, moving closer. “Kama is ‘love.’ Sutra, loosely translated, means ‘a lesson’ or ‘a rule.’ So essentially, the Kama Sutra contains the rules of love.”