Untamed Heat

by Tarah Scott

  He laughed, a deep, rich laugh that filled the small space. “Cut me some slack. You caught me on a bad day.” He stopped at the street and looked left, then right.

  “You can let me out here,” she said.

  “Where’s your car?”

  Liz gave him a wary look.

  “I’m not leaving you here. If those men come back, you don’t want them making another run at you. They might not give up so easily.”

  A tremor flipped her stomach. “Who are they?”

  He turned left onto the street and released a slow breath. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have lousy timing?”

  “What?”

  He looked at her. “You picked the wrong day to play mother hen, sweetheart.”

  Chapter Two

  The dark-haired beauty sitting beside him did have lousy timing. They should be in a candlelit room, where they would dance well into the night before he took her back to his place to make love until dawn. But she’d picked tonight to accuse him of sleeping with her daughter. He preferred the mother. His cock pulsed with the erotic picture of the full-bodied brunette beneath him as he brought her to climax with sure, slow thrusts.

  How badly had he screwed up his chances of getting her into that position? When he’d seen her in his class, he pegged her as Reid’s second attempt to buy him with a high-priced call girl. The half a dozen young women who had been at the one and only meeting Hawk had agreed to with Reid couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. Hawk had figured this woman was Reid’s response to Hawk’s comment that he didn’t rob the cradle.

  Hawk looked at her, careful to keep his eyes on her face and not the breasts that strained against the white T-shirt she wore. “Who told you I have a…relationship with your daughter?”

  She hesitated.

  “Can’t be Emma,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “She strikes me as an honest kid.”

  She gave a deprecating laugh. “You’re good.”

  “Emma didn’t say we were having an affair. Did she?”

  Even in the dim streetlight, Hawk didn’t miss the tinge of red coloring her cheeks. He’d seen too many young female students vie for his attention to believe Emma Williams had lied about their relationship. Despite the fact she was only an undergrad, Hawk had already assigned her senior projects. Had the mother read more into his actions than enthusiasm on his part to take a talented student under his wing and advise her through the PhD process?

  Hawk slowed and downshifted as he turned left into the building’s front parking lot. “When you get home, talk to your daughter. If there’s any further misunderstanding, come see me.”

  “I’ll be seeing you, all right, in the dean’s office—then the police station.”

  The dean’s office would be for her daughter. The police station would be for nearly assaulting her. Yep, he’d screwed up. “Where are you parked?”

  “The north side of the lot. The blue Land Cruiser.”

  He pulled the truck around and slipped in to park behind the older Toyota. She reached for the door.

  “I thought Reid sent you.”

  “Reid who?”

  “Vance Reid,” Hawk replied.

  Recognition flickered across her face. “The land developer?”

  He nodded. “Those were his boys who nearly ran you down.”

  She studied him. “What do they want?”

  “They want me to say a dig outside Mesa is Navajo.”

  “Why should he care about one more Navajo site? There are loads of them. And what’s that have to do with me?”

  “Reid likes to sweeten the pot. I mistook you for one of the sweets.”

  She frowned, then her mouth dropped open. “Sweets? You think I’m a—” She clapped a hand over her mouth, and Hawk did a double take upon realizing she was stifling laughter.

  “Most women would be insulted,” he said.

  The hand dropped away from her mouth. “I am.” The obvious tightening of her lips against more laughter belied her words. “That’s a terrible thing to say. I don’t dress like a hooker.”

  “I didn’t say hooker. High-priced call girl.”

  “There’s no difference.”

  “There’s a huge difference.”

  She snorted. “Sure, and a multi-millionaire really is trying to kill you.”

  “That was four tons of steel coming at you,” Hawk said, all humor gone. “I’d say they were trying to kill you.”

  Her eyes widened, and he should have regretted her fear but didn’t. The last thing he wanted was her thinking he played chicken for fun.

  He leaned past her to the glove box. She jerked back into the corner as if he were a rattler. He paused and shifted his gaze to hers. She lifted her chin, and he resisted a smile. With some time, he’d find out what that fire felt like when he slid inside her. His body clenched at the thought of her walls tightening around him in climax. Damn it, he was two seconds away from making an even bigger fool of himself than he already had.

  Hawk opened the glove box, pulled a card from those he’d thrown inside, then pushed it closed. He straightened and extended the card to her. “After you’ve spoken with Emma, give me a call. She’s a talented student. I don’t want to lose her.” And he sure as hell didn’t like this misunderstanding.

  She grasped the card, but he didn’t release it. “What’s your name?”

  She hesitated. “Elizabeth.”

  Hawk would bet she went by Liz, but she wasn’t getting friendly enough to own up to it. He released the card. “Do me a favor and let me deal with the police.” She opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off, “I’d rather you weren’t on Reid’s radar.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, he’s a mean son of a bitch who won’t blink an eye at hurting you if he thinks I’ll care.”

  She snorted. “You wouldn’t care.”

  “I would. You’d better get home. I’ll wait until you’re in your car.”

  She stared for a moment, and he thought she would say something more, but she got out of the truck without a word.

  ****

  Liz reached across the kitchen table and clasped her daughter’s hand. Last night, while Liz had paid her visit to the university, Emma had returned home sick with a cold. Liz hadn’t known she was there until she’d appeared in the kitchen twenty minutes ago.

  “I’m not mad,” Liz said. “You’re young. He’s older, and knows better.” She recalled Professor Hawkins’ cool composure when she’d accused him of sleeping with Emma. “The man is a cool character.”

  “What do you mean he’s a cool character?” Emma’s eyes widened. “Oh, Mom, you didn’t—”

  “Em, I couldn’t take the chance he would use the dig as an opportunity to manipulate you.”

  Emma stared. “You went to my professor and accused him of screwing me?”

  “Emma.”

  Emma wiped her stuffy nose with the tissue she gripped. “I don’t believe this.”

  “I never said that,” Liz insisted.

  “It’s what you meant. Professor Hawkins has never looked at me the wrong way, much less slept with me. He wouldn’t go for it even if I wanted to.”

  “The guy is young and gorgeous. You’re telling me he would resist a young woman like you?”

  “I’m really surprised at you, Mom. If we were talking about a beautiful female professor, would you say that?”

  “It’s not the same,” Liz said.

  “Oh, my God. My mother is a sexist.”

  Liz hadn’t forgotten Professor Hawkins’ calm insistence that she talk to Emma, then talk to him. How many guilty men would have been so composed? She also remembered the confession that he’d thought she was a hooker. No, a “high-priced call girl.” That would account for the way he’d backed her against the truck and kissed her.

  Kissed her? The memory of nearly getting run over by the SUV, mingled with the recollection of his steel arms around her when he’d pul
led her to safety, and her nipples tightened as they had last night. Which was he, letch or hero? That question, and the memory of his hard body pressed against her, had kept her awake half the night. Was it really possible he was a hero?

  “You’re not protecting him?” Liz persisted.

  “I know better than to sleep with my professors.” Emma slumped in her chair. “I’m quitting the class.”

  Liz’s heart twisted. “No way. He said you were a talented student. He doesn’t want to lose you.”

  Emma eyed her doubtfully. “He said that?”

  “He did.”

  “You’re making that up so I won’t be mad at you.”

  “Emma Louise Williams, you know I wouldn’t lie.”

  She snorted through a stuffy nose. “I thought I knew you wouldn’t accuse my professor of—”

  “Emma!” Liz pinned her daughter with a hard stare. “Tell me something, young lady.”

  Emma groaned.

  “Don’t roll your eyes at me. I’m sorry. I screwed up, I admit it, but don’t act like I went off half-cocked without good cause.”

  Em’s mouth fell open. “Good cause? He’s my professor. He’s old.”

  “You’re telling me you never noticed how gorgeous he is?”

  Emma’s gaze sharpened. “You think he’s gorgeous?”

  “I’m old, not blind.”

  Emma rolled her eyes again. “Forty-four isn’t old.”

  “You just said he was old. I’m ancient compared to him.”

  “He’s old for me. Not you.”

  Liz blinked. “What?”

  A knowing look entered her daughter’s eyes. “What made you think we had a thing?”

  Heat flooded Liz’s cheeks. “Don’t change the subject.”

  “You first, Mom. You made this mess.”

  Liz started to argue, but she was right. “I heard you on the phone.”

  “Eavesdropping and butting into my business,” Emma said. “Where does it end, young lady?”

  Liz narrowed her eyes. “Don’t get carried away. From my end, the conversation sounded pretty incriminating. Talk of how gorgeous he is and what a great relationship you have.”

  “We do, as professor and student. He’s an amazing teacher.”

  “I’m so sorry, Em, but you can’t fully blame me. You were talking about how good he is in bed.” Emma’s mouth twisted into a disgusted look, and Liz added, “You said he was perfect.”

  “Perfect for you.”

  Liz stared. “For me? What? He’s got to be at least fifteen years younger than me.”

  “Twelve.”

  “And the difference is…?”

  Emma rose. “In your mind.”

  Chapter Three

  The ring of the doorbell pulled Liz from the contract she was reviewing on her laptop. She rose and wound her way from her office at the back of the house to the front door. She looked out the window and saw two men on the stoop.

  She opened the door. “Can I help you?”

  “Good afternoon, ma’am,” the first man said. “I’m Detective Carlisle and this is Detective Lyons. Are you Elizabeth Williams?”

  Detectives. Professor Hawkins had reported what happened last night, as promised. “Yes, I’m Elizabeth Williams.”

  “We would like to talk to you about an incident last night at the university parking lot.”

  “Can I see your badges, please?” she asked.

  Both men showed their badges.

  Liz nodded and stepped aside. “Come in.”

  She seated them on the couch in the living room, then sat on the nearest chair. “What can I do for you?”

  Detective Carlisle said, “We have a report that a black SUV tried to run you and Professor Hawkins down in the university parking lot last night.”

  Liz nodded. “Yes.”

  Both men took out small notebooks.

  “Did you get a look at the driver?” Detective Lyons asked.

  “No. Their headlights blinded me before I had a chance to see anything.”

  “You say ‘they,’” Detective Carlisle said. “Was there more than one person in the vehicle?”

  “Two men,” she said.

  “You’re sure they were men?”

  “They looked larger than women.”

  “What were you doing at the university?” he asked.

  Heat rippled through Liz at the memory of her accusations that the professor was having an affair with Emma. “My daughter is a student in Professor Hawkins class. I was there to speak with him about her.”

  “Really?” His gaze bore into her.

  Why did she suddenly feel as if she was on trial? “Yes. You can check with the school. But what difference does it make why I was there? I’m the one who nearly got ran over.”

  “Did anyone know you were going there?” Detective Lyons asked. “Is there any reason someone would want to hurt you?”

  She shook her head “No. Professor Hawkins told me he believes they were men working for Vance Reid, the developer.”

  “Why would he do something like this?” Lyons asked.

  “I guess there’s some kind of dispute over land that involves Professor Hawkins. He must have told you all this.”

  “You and the professor didn’t have some kind of altercation?” the detective asked.

  She remembered his body pressed against hers and his rough kiss, and the way he’d hugged her close when he’d saved her life by pulling her from the SUV’s path. “No.”

  “We have a witness who says Professor Hawkins assaulted you.”

  “Assaulted me?” Liz recalled threatening to report him for attempted rape. The reaction had been a bit dramatic. She’d been angry. “You’re witness is mistaken.”

  “He didn’t shove you against his truck and take liberties?” Lyons asked.

  Her heart rate jumped. What was she supposed to say? “He did not assault me in any way. What’s this about? I thought you were here to investigate someone trying to run us down, but you’re acting as if he’s the criminal. Did your witness see the SUV try to mow us down? Or the way he saved me from being hit by the SUV? The car hit Professor Hawkins’ truck. Have you seen it?”

  “We saw it.”

  “What did your witness say about that?” she demanded.

  “They saw the SUV and reported it to us immediately.”

  “Professor Hawkins didn’t report it?” she asked, then realized how bad her question made him look.

  Detective Lyons nodded. “Yes, he did report the incident.”

  Liz relaxed a notch.

  “So there’s no one you know of who would threaten you?”

  “I work for Leland Industries, a clothing manufacturer. Who would try to kill me?”

  “You didn’t recognize the men in the vehicle?” Detective Carlisle asked.

  “I didn’t see anything but large figures.”

  “Why didn’t you report the incident, Ms. Williams?” Detective Lyons asked.

  “Professor Hawkins advised me to go directly home. He said he would talk to you.”

  “Surely, you knew we would need to speak with you,” the detective said.

  “And here you are.”

  He held her gaze for a long moment, then flipped closed his notebook. He and pulled a card from within his jacket pocket, then rose. Detective Carlisle followed suit, and Liz stood, as well.

  Lyons handed her the card. “If you think of anything else, give us a call.”

  She took the card. “That’s it?”

  He looked at her. “Is there something else you can think of?”

  “No.”

  He nodded. “If there is, don’t hesitate to call.”

  She escorted them to the door. Lyons went out first, then Carlisle.

  Carlisle paused in the doorway. “You sure there’s nothing you want to report about Professor Hawkins?”

  Ire flared. “Do I in any way look like an abused woman?”

  “Most women don’t look the part,” h
e said.

  “Maybe not to everyone, but you’re a seasoned police officer.”

  He nodded. “If you need anything, call.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  They left and Liz collapsed against the door. She’d made a real mess by visiting Professor Hawkins last night. Now she had to fix things—double time.

  ****

  An hour later, Liz turned a bend on the dirt road that wound through the Matatzal foothills and spotted Professor Anthony Hawkins’ green Chevy parked amongst half a dozen other vehicles a quarter of a mile ahead. She slowed and turned off the road. His assistant had said he would be at the dig all day.

  The driver’s side of the Chevy came into view, and she hit the brakes, eyes glued to the dent in the side of the truck bed. Her stomach knotted. The eight thousand pounds of steel that had created that damage had careened across the parking lot toward her last night. If Professor Hawkins hadn’t pulled her out of the way, the mammoth vehicle would have mown her down. He’d put his life on the line to save her, despite the fact she’d accused him of seducing her daughter. And she’d mucked up things by making the police suspicious of him.

  Liz willed her pounding heart to slow as she pulled the Land Cruiser to a stop beside a Subaru Forester fifty feet from where the desert floor sloped downward out of sight. The dig had to be taking place somewhere beyond the edge.

  She cut the engine and gazed through the windshield at clouds that hung low over the higher peaks in the distance. A group of tall rocks, up ahead on the left, rose as if they’d speared through the Earth’s surface. She had lived her entire life in Arizona and never grew tired of the stark beauty. Yellow spring wildflowers grew in spurts amongst the pale green brush, and saguaro cacti stood sentinel throughout the jagged landscape, as they had for eons.

  Liz released a breath. She couldn’t admire the view all day. “He asked you to talk to him after you spoke with Em. You owe him and Emma that much, and he deserves to know the police suspect he—” She groaned. It had been bad enough facing him to apologize about thinking he was sleeping with Emma. Now…

  She reached for the keys and realized her fingers were trembling. “Get a hold of yourself. He’s a young man—too young for you—and he isn’t interested in you.”

  The admonition didn’t wipe away the memory of his warm breath on her face or the way he’d almost kissed her in the truck. Almost was the key word. He hadn’t. His rough kiss before that had been because he’d thought Vance Reid sent her to seduce him and he’d been mad as hell. A shiver sped down her arms. How did a woman go about seducing a man like him? She jarred from the thought. By being fifteen years younger, for starters. Em had good intentions, but she didn’t realize it wasn’t just Liz’s perspective that counted, but Professor Hawkins’ as well.