by Neesa Hart
Jerry had mentioned the nieces. At the time Rafael had brushed off his less-than-complimentary description as typical of Jerry’s intolerance of childhood antics. Watching the three girls in action, however, Rafael decided that Jerry had underestimated them—just as he’d underestimated Cora. Her nieces had evidently mastered the tag-team approach in dealing with their aunt. Soon they’d have her surrounded. It was beginning to look as if he’d arrived just in time.
The oldest girl, the one Cora had called Kaitlin, immediately staked a position against Jerry’s accusations. “That’s not what happened, Aunt Cora. It was Leslie’s fault.”
Cora looked at the next-oldest girl. “Molly, how did you get into the toner?”
Molly pointed at the dog. “We were chasing Melody.”
Cora waited. When no additional explanation was forthcoming, she pressed harder. “Why are you all even here? I thought Leslie was taking you to the park today.”
Liza spoke up. “We has gonned to the park, but I forgot Benedict Bunny. I wanted to go back and get him.”
“And Leslie wouldn’t turn around,” Molly supplied.
“Liza kept begging,” Kaitlin added.
Liza nodded, her eyes wide. “I didn’t want to leave him at home.”
Kaitlin picked up the thread of the story. “Leslie kept telling Liza to quit crying and she wouldn’t.”
“I want Benedict Bunny,” Liza insisted.
Kaitlin continued, “Leslie got really mad. So she whipped the car around and came here.”
“Yeah,” Molly said. “She let Melody out of the car before us. When Melody took off running, we had to chase her.”
Kaitlin added, “She almost plowed Becky down in the hall. Liza—” she swatted her younger sister with the back of her hand “—was trying to catch up.”
“Becky was changing the cartridge,” Molly supplied.
Liza, whose face probably looked angelic when it wasn’t covered in black ink, nodded adamantly. “I tried to catch it when it fell.”
Rafael had to suppress a laugh. Standard operating procedure, he supposed. They’d blame it on the baby. She was less likely to get eaten. If Liza survived, then they knew they were in the clear.
Cora’s gaze swung to Jerry once more. “Did you see what happened?”
“No. I heard the noise.”
“Is there any damage other than the mess?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Fine.” She glared at Kaitlin. “Take your sisters and go find Becky. Help her clean up all the ink.”
“It wasn’t our fault,” Kaitlin argued.
“We’ll talk about it later, Kaitlin.”
“But—”
“Now,” Cora said.
Kaitlin paused, her expression belligerent. She studied Cora’s face for long seconds, then finally relented. “Fine.” She wrapped Melody’s leash around her hand. “Are you mad ’cause Leslie quit? Because she wasn’t very good. I didn’t like her.”
“Me, neither,” Molly said.
“Me, neither,” Liza added.
Cora sighed. “I don’t know if I’m mad or not. It depends on why she quit. Probably.”
Rafael winced. Indecision. Never show children indecision. She’d just lost another major battle on the playing field of child discipline.
The three girls filed out of the room with Melody in tow. Cora pressed three fingers to her forehead in frustration. “Sorry, Jerry,” she muttered.
“You’ve got to do something about them, Cora. They’re out of control.”
“It was an accident.”
“Just like the water cooler last week?” When Cora didn’t respond, Jerry met Rafael’s gaze across the small room. “I didn’t know you’d arrived,” he said.
Rafael frowned. Trust Jerry to make it sound as if he’d conspired against Cora. “I just got here.”
“Really?” The other man leaned casually against the door frame. “I’m surprised you didn’t come by my office.”
“I had other things on my mind.”
Jerry’s gaze shifted to Cora. “So I see. Cora, I see you’ve met Dr. Adriano. I won’t bother with introductions.”
Cora slowly lowered herself back into her chair. “No, Jerry, you needn’t bother.” Her voice held all the warmth of the Arctic Ocean.
Rafael sensed the wisdom of a strategic withdrawal. He’d given Cora something to think about. Later he’d press his point. He pushed himself off her desk, then extended his hand to Jerry. “It’s good to see you again, Jerry. Dr. Prescott and I were just finishing.”
“Oh?” Jerry’s hand was clammy. He gave Rafael a quick handshake, but didn’t take his eyes off Cora. “Any decisions?”
“No,” Cora said, and did not elaborate.
Rafael followed her lead. “We have a lot to talk about. I didn’t expect an answer today.”
“Cora—” strained patience laced Jerry’s voice “—I’m sure you realize that Dr. Adriano could be an important asset to Rawlings.”
“I don’t live in a cave, Jerry.”
“I realize that. But I was afraid you’d be stubborn about this. Since the diaries—”
“My tenure contract with the college,” she said through gritted teeth, “gives me the right to decide the parameters of my research of any historical documents I choose to pursue.”
Jerry slid his hands into his vest pockets. “Adriano’s in a position to bring us a lot of good publicity. I don’t think Willers would be very impressed if you refused to give Adriano a fair chance to state his case.”
Bastard, Rafael thought. Jerry had played his ace. Henry Willers, president of the college, was a notorious media hound. Rafael had deliberately kept his correspondence with Cora confidential, knowing that Willers would pressure her to accede. He wanted her cooperation, but not grudgingly. Cora’s hands gripped the edge of her desk. “Jerry—”
“Just something to think about,” Jerry said amiably.
Cora held Jerry’s gaze with barely concealed hostility. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
“If you want my opinion, with your tenure hearing coming up, this is the kind of thing you should pay attention to.”
Rafael had to look away to hide his disgust. He couldn’t wait until he got the man alone. What Jerry needed, evidently, was a lesson in academic humility. He could see the anger in Cora’s eyes when she addressed Jerry. “Duly noted.”
Rafael stood, determined to fend off a full-blown confrontation. “I appreciate your time,” he told Cora. “We can finish later?”
She finally tore her gaze from Jerry. “Fine. Now if the two of you will excuse me, I’d like to check on my nieces.” She breezed past them and let the door of her office slam behind her.
Chapter Two
It’s her fire I find irresistible. After so many nights with naught but the cold sea for company, I find such rapturous warmth in her arms. She may consume me, but what a blissful demise!
Juan Rodriguez del Flores
Captain’s Log, 9 December 1860
Jerry Heath, Rafael decided, was an idiot.
The man had deliberately allowed him to believe that Cora Prescott was some prudish college professor he could simply bowl over with a good dose of charm. Rafael had suspected from Jerry’s poorly veiled hostility that he found Cora threatening. Now that he’d met her, he knew exactly why. Cora was twice the researcher and a hundred times the person Jerry Heath would ever be.
“Well,” Jerry said, seating himself in Cora’s recently vacated chair, “what do you think now that you’ve met the inimitable Cora Prescott?”
Good question, Rafael thought as he quickly reconciled his impressions of her with his previous expectations. There was a wealth of treasure to find beneath her facade, of that he was sure. But something—or someone—had put that distrustful, slightly wounded look in her eyes. For a man who’d spent a lifetime carefully unearthing priceless antiquities, the challenge of discovering Cora’s secret was irresistible. He glared at Jerry. “You set
me up, Jerry.”
“I did not. I gave you every warning that you didn’t know what you were getting into when you decided to take on Cora. She’s the stubbornnest woman I’ve ever known. I’d be surprised if you got past go with her.”
“Is that why you practically blackmailed her into accepting my offer?”
Jerry bristled. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Rafael scowled at him. “Playing the tenure card? That was a cheap shot.”
“Cora can take care of herself, believe me.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
Jerry nodded. “She’d like to be department head.”
And she’d be good at it, Rafael thought. No wonder Jerry seemed intent on keeping her in her place. At his age, he was nearing the end of his academic career. Bright new talent scared him. A woman like Cora Prescott probably left him cowering in the corner. Rafael carefully considered all that Cora had said to him. “She’s brilliant.”
“She’s extremely respected in her field,” Jerry acknowledged.
Praise, Rafael realized, but not unqualified. His opinion of Jerry Heath slipped another notch. “So why didn’t you tell me about the whole package?”
Jerry swiveled back and forth in the worn leather chair. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Rafael gave him a knowing look. “Like hell.”
“I don’t.”
“Then you’re older than I thought,” Rafael said.
Jerry stared at him another few seconds, then understanding dawned in his eyes. He let out a low whistle. “My God. You can’t mean you’re thinking of seducing Cora Prescott.”
Rafael lifted his eyebrows. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I’ve known you a long time. And I know that look you get. It’s the same one you get when you think you’re on the cusp of an important find.”
“You’re being melodramatic.”
“Maybe. Still, you’ll have to take my word on this. She’s not that type of woman. She’s not your type of woman.” Jerry shook his head. “Believe me, other men have tried and failed, and it won’t work. She’s cold as an iceberg. I’m not entirely certain she’s interested in men, if you know what I mean.”
Rafael let that pass without comment. He made a practice of not wasting his time on fools.
Jerry reached for the phone on Cora’s desk. “Look, why don’t you get settled into your hotel, then let Patty and me take you to dinner.” He punched a few numbers. “We can talk about old times.”
Rafael thought it over. As much as he loathed the idea of an extended stay in Jerry’s presence, he genuinely liked Patty Heath. A widely published author and lecturer on ancient Greek culture, Patty could not only provide interesting dinner conversation, but also, he hoped, better insight into Cora Prescott. “I’d love to,” he answered.
“Great. Patty’s been dying to pick your brain about the Argo project.” Jerry finished dialing. While he talked to his wife, Rafael mentally recalculated his strategy for gaining Cora Prescott’s cooperation.
Even Jerry couldn’t be naive enough to think that the aloof mask she wore reflected her true nature. Granted, she had the look down to a science. Tortoiseshell glasses. Hair in a neat French braid. Intelligent eyes set in a classic oval face. She even wore the costume of the conservative academic. Her tailored blouse and simple straight skirt were a timeless style. Most professors wore jeans and T-shirts to class. Cora could have stepped right out of another age.
But that was where it ended. There was absolutely nothing about the woman that didn’t scream of undiscovered passion. Or that didn’t beg for masculine attention. The less observant of the male species, he supposed, might miss it, but what Rafael saw was an underlying edge of raw sensuality that had him struggling for balance.
Some men, he knew, looked at a woman and saw the sum total of her parts. If the balance sheet didn’t tip in their favor, they never bothered to look deeper. He, however, had found that such a superficial examination was generally misleading. Cora Prescott wasn’t classically beautiful or even modernly sexy. She’d never make the cover of a men’s magazine, but then, he’d always preferred the subtle to the blatant.
In her, he saw something sensual and alluring. A huge part of the appeal, he knew, was her intelligence. He liked that in a lover. But the physical package complemented her mental assets. Perhaps it was the curve of her ear or the way stray tendrils of soft brown hair caressed the nape of her neck. It could be the long sweep of her arm from the juncture of her collarbone to the tips of her slender fingers. The way she moved enticed him. Her waist flared into softly rounded hips. Long shapely legs melded into well-turned ankles. The tailored cut of her blouse had done little to disguise the curves of her breasts. Her clothes floated on her skin like the whisper of a summer breeze.
He had a feeling that when he touched her, it would be like coaxing music from a fine instrument. Cora had the look of a woman who knew her worth. She valued herself too much to waste her energy on men who couldn’t appreciate the rare nature of her character and appeal. Like Sleeping Beauty, he mused, she had allowed her passion to remain dormant, rather than squander it on the undeserving.
That idea had him instantly and potently aroused. The realization hit him like a blow to the head. He wanted Cora Prescott, and he couldn’t remember having this strong thirst for possession for anything other than a sunken ship. But Cora was no relic, and his first encounter with her had sent exhilaration pumping through him. It sent his lingering exhaustion from jet lag and the post-Argo whirlwind tumbling off into orbit. In its place was a growing hunger for discovery.
He took several long moments to revel in the sensation. With del Flores’s ship finally within reach and the tantalizing prospect of unraveling all of Cora Prescott’s mysteries, he felt the passion stirring in him, awakening from what had seemed, recently, like an endless slumber.
Slowly his gaze shifted to Jerry, who was just completing his conversation with his wife. Jerry seemed to have no idea just what the world was missing in its ignorant dismissal of Cora Prescott’s appeal. An idiot, Rafael mused again. More’s the pity.
“HELLO.” AT TEN MINUTES to seven the following evening, in the midst of a torrential downpour, Rafael leaned casually against the frame of the front door to Cora’s house while he looked down at a wide-eyed Liza. He’d gleaned what he could from Patty Heath last night, then spent the better part of his day replotting his strategy.
Cora Prescott was turning out to be every bit as elusive and mysterious as he’d suspected.
She was well liked by her colleagues, he’d learned, but kept largely to herself. She seemed to have few close friends in the community, yet everyone spoke of her warmly. People had conflicting ideas about her reticence, but on one point, they all seemed to agree: though they thought she’d been incredibly generous to take in her three nieces for the summer—their mother, rumor had it, was enjoying an extended fling in the Florida Keys with a married real-estate developer—Cora was completely overwhelmed by the responsibility.
Rafael couldn’t remember a time when he’d had better news. She had something he needed, and now he had something she needed. With a satisfied smile, he grinned at a bewildered-looking Liza. “Is your aunt home?” he asked.
Becky Painter, who was the ace up his sleeve this evening, peered around his shoulder to greet Liza. “Hey, there, Liza.”
Liza smiled at her. “Hi, Becky.” Her gaze swung to Rafael’s. “I know you. You were in Aunt Cora’s office.”
“Yes, I was.”
“Know how come I know?”
“How come?”
She pointed to his eye patch. “You got that. What is it?”
“It’s a bandage for my eye.”
She tipped her head to one side. “You got a sore?”
“Yes. I have a sore.”
“Oh. Are you a pirate? I have a book about pirates.”
He tapped the patch with his index finger. “Does it have pictu
res of men wearing these?”
“Yes. How come it’s black?”
“Eye bandages only come in black.” That made Liza frown, as if the thought of black bandages was somehow a grave misfortune. Rafael winked at her. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
Liza had opened the door to his knock. Her hot-pink pajamas and the ratty-looking stuffed rabbit she clutched told him that Cora was in the middle of the bedtime routine. And if the noise coming from upstairs was any indication, she wasn’t having an easy time of it.
In answer to his question, Liza wagged her head from side to side. “I hate bed. I don’t like sleeping.”
“Really?”
“No. It’s boring.”
Becky laughed. “Bedtime in this house is a nightmare, Cora told me. She starts at around eight and never gets them down before ten.”
“Is that so?” Rafael bent so his face was at eye level with Liza’s. “Do you want to know a secret, sweet pea?”
She clutched the worn brown rabbit to her chest and leaned forward. “What?”
“I don’t like to go to sleep, either.”
Liza held his gaze a few seconds, then stepped aside to let him in. He’d cleared the first hurdle. Liza, at least, seemed to trust him. “I came to see your aunt,” he told her.
“She’s upstairs. Kaitlin and Molly don’t wanna sleep.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“How come you’re all wet?” Liza asked as a sleepy-looking Melody ambled in from the living room. The dog wagged her tail as she watched Rafael, then flumped down at his feet. Mentally he tabulated another point in his column. He had the kids. He had the dog. The aunt was sure to follow.
Becky was shaking out her umbrella. “It’s raining outside. Didn’t you hear the thunder, Liza?”
“Yeah. That’s why I came down here.”
Somewhere in that four-year-old mind, there was logic in that statement. “Does your aunt know where you are?”
Liza shrugged. He took that as a no. He was about to ask for the name of her rabbit when he heard Cora’s voice from the top of the stairs.