She looked up. McCall had his hands braced on the railing, ready to jump overboard to catch her. With a tight grip on the steering wheel, Lucy gunned it. And she couldn’t help it—she waved goodbye, twisting her hand at the wrist like they do on parade floats, so that he’d be sure to see the emerald ring on her finger.
Chapter Two
Lucy wiped the dust from her sunglasses with the hem of her T-shirt and stared at the centuries old sandstone Aztec village. She’d rather be anywhere else but the Arizona desert. Even with a tiring sun, heat stroked the back of her legs and neck. Dirt and rock and sand stretched for miles, baked into barren slopes that vanished into the horizon.
She gulped down a boulder-sized knot in her throat. This morning she’d been sure she could handle this. But casting a wide glance at her surroundings, she felt more alone than she had since Matt and her dad’s death.
An unforgiving wind propelled her forward. Her hiking boots kicked up earth and grime. The closer she got to the hand plastered walls, the smaller she felt.
Finding the sixteenth century gold Tlaloc sculpture had taken over two years. She’d promised Matt and her dad she would continue the search, no matter how long it took to find.
After she’d delivered the ring to Malcolm, she’d packed up everything she owned and thrown it into her aged but trusty Land Cruiser. She’d driven across the country, taking a little time to see the spots she’d always wanted to visit: Graceland because her dad had been a big Elvis fan, Mount Rushmore, Yellowstone National Park, and the small town in Colorado where her grandmother had lived.
She played with the small opal gem around her neck—the one souvenir she’d allowed herself on the trip. She’d always loved her grandmother’s birthstone and last week would have been her seventy-fifth birthday. The necklace didn’t come close to replacing the family she’d lost, but it did give her the comfort that had been eluding her these past few weeks. Her grandmother had always been the one to lift her spirits and remind her to cherish every moment, no matter how small.
The roar of a car engine reminded her where she stood and drew her attention over her shoulder. She lifted a hand to cut the glare from the sinking sun. Two pick-up trucks stirred up dust as they climbed the road leading to her position.
Shit. She needed time to explore the village on her own. Minimal damage to historic landmarks always took top priority. She had to be certain about where the sculpture was hidden before she started excavating.
She ran to the main entrance, her army-green canvas knapsack bouncing against her side as she raced to avoid making an acquaintance.
Once shaded from the elements and unwelcome truck drivers, she marveled at the architecture within the walls of the village. She ran her sweaty palms down the sides of her shorts and swiped a hand over the cool, rough stone. The age and tradition of such a primitive site elicited a tingle through her fingertips. She never got tired of brushing up against history.
For a few minutes she let herself remember all the adventures she, Matt, and her dad had been on. They’d navigated jungles, oceans, temples, underground tunnels. She’d forget about Malcolm and his cold, ruthless way of caring for nothing but uncommon relics and how much they were worth, and instead enjoy the excitement of finding something rooted in history.
None of those searches mattered as much as this one though.
Footsteps brought her back to the present.
Only it was too late.
The hand on her shoulder was big, the male scent tickling her nose pleasant—and familiar. She spun around.
“You?” he scoffed, his voice the same deep timbre she remembered.
Lucy’s heart stopped. The guy from the Star of Aesa—McCall—looked none too pleased to see her. She was pretty unhappy to see him, too. She’d seen enough of him in a few of her dreams lately.
“We meet again,” she said, because she had no idea what else to say. Of all the times for fate to intervene, it couldn’t have happened at a worse time.
“Yeah. Wow.” He took a step back and his disposition softened some. He ran a hand through his messy, straight, dark brown hair.
“What, uh, are you doing here?” She briefly wondered if he’d been looking for her since that day on the boat before she mentally slapped herself. A man like him did not look for a girl like her.
He shook his head. “You don’t get to ask the questions. Why are you here?”
Nope. Not looking for her. “I’m sightseeing.”
“You’re trespassing.”
She dug the toe of her boot into the hard ground. “How do you figure?”
“Because you’re standing in my preservation project. This is a protected site that’s closed to the public.”
“You’re in heritage protection?” Crap. She’d assumed he was some rich guy on the Star of Aesa, there to invest his money in a worthy cause. She squeezed her thigh to stop her leg from shaking.
“Keats McCall.” He extended his hand. “President of Field Operations, World Heritage Fund.”
Lucy stared at his hand. Shit. Shit. Shit. He was that McCall? Lucy had thought it his first name, not his last, when she’d heard it on the ship. “So you know.” He’d no doubt read about the emerald ring’s discovery in the newspaper. Malcolm always made sure to garner as much publicity as possible for himself. He never divulged who did his work for him, but McCall had seen the ring on her finger. For the first time, she’d been caught in the act.
“That you stole the Malta emerald. Yeah.” He dropped his arm.
“I didn’t steal it. I found it.”
He knitted his brows. “You do all the finds for Malcolm Holmes? He’s got quite a collection. And reputation.”
“I used to. I don’t anymore.” And she’d only worked for him in the first place because of her father. Her dad had had an amicable relationship with Malcolm for years, offering his knowledge and expertise to authenticate artifacts. But after Malcolm had funded one of their hunts for the Tlaloc sculpture and they’d come back empty handed, they had to repay him by working for him.
“Why not?” He put his hand on the textured wall beside them and narrowed his eyes as if he knew what treasure lay within its structure.
Which was ridiculous. There was no way he knew why she was there. Most historians knew nothing about the Tlaloc sculpture. Those that did thought the god of rain, fertility, and water a hoax. Rumors dispelled it as a female deity. But she’d done extensive research on Aztec culture and knew the statue was real. And hidden in this village.
“I don’t owe you an explanation.” She dug her nails into her knapsack. If he pressed her, she would have to lie and for some reason—with this man—that didn’t sit well a second time.
His fingers drummed the wall, drawing Lucy’s attention away from his contemplative face. “I think you do.”
“I’m currently unemployed and work is the farthest thing from my mind. I’m on vacation and the Aztec village was just one spot on my itinerary.” The Tlaloc sculpture wasn’t work. It was redemption.
He gave her a megawatt smile that made her knees weak.
“What?” she asked.
“You just gave me an explanation.”
“Whatever. I’ve got to go.” She turned and squeezed her eyes shut before walking away.
McCall followed her. The barren land wasn’t a favorite of Lucy’s, but she marveled at the desert sky painted with soft strokes of red and yellow.
“Is there something here I should know about?” He stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. The contact sent a jolt of electricity all the way down to her toes.
But the anger in his tone nearly undid her. After their last encounter, he didn’t trust her on his site. He could fish all he wanted, though. Lucy had to retrieve the last remaining sixteenth century gold Tlaloc sculpture. McCall’s job might be to prevent any type of excavation, but there was no way she’d let him interfere with her plans.
She’d promised she’d find the sculpture. Keeping her promise
was the only way she’d be able to move forward.
She looked right at McCall. “No.”
“You know looting is against the law at historic sites. I’d hate to see you get arrested.”
Anger flamed her cheeks. She put her hands on her hips “You did not just call me a looter.”
“What if I did?”
He stood too close. The stubble on his chiseled jaw distracted her. The slow curve of his irritatingly seductive lips, too. He was baiting her, trying to get her to spill more details about herself. Well, he could try all he wanted, it wasn’t going to work.
“I am not a looter.” End of story. She spun around and walked down the dirt path leading to her car.
“I’ll stop you,” he said, falling in step beside her.
“No you won’t.”
His arm shot out in front of her, almost making her trip over her own feet. She twisted to face him at the same time he took her hands in his. “I will.”
Lucy sucked in a breath. First off, his hands were big and warm and callused just enough to make her wonder what they’d feel like rubbing the kinks out of her neck. And second, being eye level with his full mouth made her curious about what he could do with it besides admonish her.
She stepped around him and leaned on the retaining wall that lined the dirt walkway. They were perched on a narrow edge of land, the drop drawing her eyes to rugged terrain that looked like the surface of another planet. “I told you, I’m here on vacation.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
“Believe what you want, McCall.”
…
McCall pressed two fingers to the spot between his neck and shoulder blade. No amount of pressure, however, curbed the throbbing that came when he was on edge.
The sexiest, most intriguing woman he’d ever met stood beside him and fuck if he knew what to do with her. He was furious with her for making him look like an ass on the Sea of Aesa. But worse, he was pissed off that he was happy to see her again.
She was a liar, but he sensed it was a means of self-defense. Secrets hid behind eyes that reminded him of the emerald ring. Caution, too.
No doubt due to Malcolm Holmes. He and Malcolm had been friends at Princeton. Crusaders for history and the preservation of important landmarks. Then Malcolm had stumbled upon an ancient piece of pottery in Peru and decided collecting artifacts was better than fieldwork. Malcolm abandoned his principles—and his friends—and screwed over anyone who got in his way to becoming one of the world’s biggest and wealthiest collectors.
McCall’s attention dipped to her bag. He’d bet his Rolex she didn’t carry the usual girl stuff in there.
“How about a deal? You tell me what you’re looking for and I give you access to my village. Legally.” If Malcolm was involved in this, McCall sure as hell wasn’t going to let him win. And that meant keeping tabs on the beautiful thief beside him.
Really, he’d be wise to get her the hell off the property or call the authorities. But that idea sucked. Because what he stupidly wanted was to find out more about her.
She tossed him a sideways glare and turned to sit on the wall. “I don’t do deals. And even if I did, I’ve no reason to make one.”
No reason his ass. But if she wasn’t going to be honest with him, then he’d have to think of another way to keep an eye on her.
It was highly unlikely that anything of significant value would be found at a protected site in the US, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. First thing in the morning he’d have Connor do some research.
McCall lived and breathed heritage protection. He was passionate about the environment and keeping historic monuments intact. His job was to strengthen the Aztec village, not poke and prod it. If anything were in its walls, he’d leave it there.
Yet… He knew of finds where the integrity of the monuments had for the most part been left undamaged and therefore no legal action had been taken against the “treasure hunters.”
“Your nose is growing,” he teased, sitting next to her.
She absently touched the tip of her nose before her eyes and mouth narrowed in annoyance. The look did nothing less than tempt him further. Shit. It had been too long since he’d been with a woman. Too long since he’d let loose. And the fact that this woman had trouble written all over only made her more appealing. He hadn’t been in trouble in a while.
“So when does work start?” she asked.
Bold move. He admired her nerve and didn’t hesitate to answer. “Monday.”
“That’s four days from now. What brought you out here tonight?” Her voice had the kind of sweet but sexy sound that made it difficult not to tell her exactly what she wanted to know.
“I brought my security guy up.” He nodded toward Clay standing beside his truck. “He’s ex Navy SEAL. And by my best estimate, hasn’t taken his eyes off us since we came out of the village.”
“He have a crush on you or something?”
McCall laughed. He and Clay had been friends for a couple of years now and constantly gave each other shit about the opposite sex. “You jealous?”
It was her turn to laugh. And the dimple McCall discovered on her left cheek damn near killed him. He wondered if there was a matching one on the other side.
She dropped her knapsack between her calves. Her khaki shorts were frayed at the edge, her boots scuffed. He tried not to stare at her smooth, tanned thighs.
“So do I get to know your name?” McCall asked.
It took her a few seconds to answer. “Lucy.” She looked out past the horizon, nibbled on her bottom lip, and took a very deliberate deep breath. “Lucy Davenport.”
“Well, Lucy Davenport, the guy over there that looks like a tank is Clay Doherty. He’s on watch here starting tonight.” He wanted her to know what she was up against if she decided to sneak back to his village.
“You had McDonald’s French fries on the way over here, didn’t you?” she said, completely changing the subject and confusing the hell out of him.
“Huh?”
“You smell like them.” She swiped at a strand of hair that escaped her ponytail. Then her stomach growled loud enough for Clay to hear.
“You hungry? We can finish this conversation over dinner.”
She jumped to her feet. Her eyes darted to the ground before settling on his. He saw a maze of intelligence there and wondered if he’d ever know what she was truly thinking.
“No thanks. I’ve got plans.” She stepped away.
“Break them.” An ice cold bath would probably feel better than getting tangled up with her, but he was easily seduced by her refusal. He liked a challenge.
He followed her to her car, the sway of her hips hypnotic. His lips curled into a smile. A fling. A few days of fun. That’s all he wanted. He never committed to any more than that. Never lost control of his emotions. Besides, it made sense to stay in contact so he’d know what she was up to.
“No can do,” she said over her shoulder.
“Where are you staying?” he asked when they reached her SUV with South Carolina license plates. He did a double take. “Did you drive across the country?”
Her spine stiffened. “Could you quit breathing down my neck?” She turned and pressed her hands to his chest to back him up a few paces.
His T-shirt was thin. Her hands were…on him. And he liked it. A lot.
He guessed she liked it, too, because she jerked her hands back and her cheeks reddened. “Please leave me alone.”
“I’m finding that hard to do.”
“Why?”
“You’re on my site with intentions I’m not clear on yet.”
She blinked repeatedly before turning to open the passenger door and tossing her bag on the floor.
Wrong answer, dumb ass. Jesus, put the kind of woman he wasn’t used to in front of him and his charm plummeted. “Hang on.” He wrapped his hand around the car door before she could close it.
“No, thanks.” She rounded the hood.
“Yeah. So what?” She climbed into the driver’s seat.
“So that’s not safe.” His gut clenched in an unfamiliar tangle at the thought of her parking somewhere and spending the night without proper shelter.
“I’ve slept in worse conditions.” She reached to put the key in the ignition. “Goodbye, McCall.”
He jumped into the car.
“What are you doing?” The car keys clanked as they slipped through her fingers and landed at her feet.
“I’m getting you a place to stay so I can keep an eye on you and then I’m taking you to dinner. Unless you’d rather my security team follow you.”
Her eyes practically bugged out of her head. “You’re not in charge of me. Now get out of my car.”
Something poked him in the hip. He reached between the seat and the center console and pulled out a carving chisel. She grabbed it from him.
A horrible thought raced through his mind. Did she have it to protect herself while sleeping?
“Out!” She waved the tool, but what he couldn’t tear his gaze from was the tug-of-war in her eyes.
He’d never before let himself get snared by a woman’s belligerence, and now that he was, adrenaline shot through his system. They may be on opposing sides, but the sparks between them were undeniable.
“Or what?” he challenged.
She mumbled words that sounded like jackass and annoying and son-of-a-bitch all rolled into one. Finally she settled on a clear, “Seriously?”
“I’m always serious.”
“Yeah. I can tell.” She reached down for her keys before pushing back against her seat. Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath. “I’m not getting rid of you, am I?”
He detected a hint of gladness in her tone. “No.”
Her head lolled to the side and she gave him a defeated look. “You’d be better off staying away from me.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
Risky Surrender Page 2