by Neesa Hart
“Liza?”
Liza moved quickly to hide behind Rafael’s leg. Cora descended a couple of stairs. “Liza?” She walked down three more, then stopped at the sight of him. “It’s you.” Then she looked at Becky. “And you. What are you doing here?”
“I met with Jerry and Henry Willers yesterday,” he said carefully. Becky remained silent. “There are some things you and I should discuss.” Melody’s tail thumped the foyer carpet.
Cora’s eyebrows lifted. “I thought we were done.”
“Hardly,” he muttered. “Things are getting…complicated.”
She completed her trip down the stairs. When she reached the foyer, she stepped from the shadows into the light. Rafael got his first good look at her that evening. She wore faded jeans that fit far too well and a well-worn college sweatshirt. Her hair was secured in a ponytail. Heat radiated from her. He could feel the lingering raindrops on his skin beginning to sizzle. He inhaled a great breath of her scent. Baby powder and soap, it was far more seductive than any expensive perfume. “The only thing that’s complicated,” she said with a distinct snap in her eyes, “is that you won’t take no for an answer.”
That snap charmed him. “It’s what makes me good at my job.”
“And obnoxious,” she shot back.
He responded with a low whistle. “Do you bite, too?”
That made Becky laugh. “Don’t let her fool you, Dr. Adriano. Cora’s as even-tempered as they come.”
“So I’m the only one who gets under her skin.” He gave Cora an appraising look. “I wonder why?”
Her color heightened. “I have an aversion to pushy men.”
“And I have an affinity for mouthy women.”
Becky stepped between them, laughing. “Okay, okay. This is going nowhere.”
Liza clutched her stuffed rabbit closer and announced, “When Molly and Kaitlin and me fight like that, Mama tells us to separate.”
Rafael winked at her. Cora muttered, “I think that’s an excellent idea.”
“You don’t understand, Cora,” Becky continued. “You aren’t even going to believe what Jerry’s done. At least Dr. Adriano had the decency to tell you about it first.”
Cora frowned. “What’s Jerry got to do with this?”
Becky shook her head. “I think we should sit down.”
Cora resisted. “Don’t you have final exams in a couple of weeks, Becky? Aren’t you supposed to be studying?”
Becky shrugged. “I needed a break. This is more interesting, anyway.”
Cora glared at Adriano. “Did you talk her into this?”
“She volunteered.”
“I’m sure.”
“I did.” Becky nodded vigorously. “I had to come, Cora. Jerry Heath and Henry Willers called a press conference for Monday morning.”
“That soon?” Cora asked.
Becky frowned. “It gets worse. Jerry was so overcome that Dr. Adriano came early, he moved it up to tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” Cora pointed out. “No one’s attending a press conference on a Sunday.” Becky glanced at Rafael. He had the grace to look uncomfortable. “They will if I’m there,” he pointed out. Becky continued, “Jerry and Willers plan to announce that you’ve agreed to let Dr. Adriano participate in the Conrad study.”
Cora’s eyes widened, then she shot an accusing glance at Rafael. “You took the project from me,” she accused.
He silently damned Jerry Heath to hell. “It’s not what you think.”
Becky came to his defense. “I wouldn’t have known at all if Dr. Adriano hadn’t told me. They’re planning to spring it on you tomorrow.”
A rumble of thunder sounded overhead, and Liza yelped, then clutched Rafael’s leg. He leaned down to pick her up. “Worried?” he asked.
“It’s scary,” Liza whispered.
“My mother used to say the noise was the sound of angels bowling in heaven.”
Another loud rumble followed. Liza buried her face against his neck. “Then why are they so loud?”
“Liza,” Cora said. “You’re supposed to be upstairs in bed.”
Liza peered at her. “He knocked on the door.”
Cora ignored that. “Kaitlin said you could sleep in her bed tonight.”
“I don’t want to go bed.”
“Molly and Kaitlin are waiting for you.”
Liza’s jaw set in a stubborn line. “No. I don’t like going to bed.” She patted Rafael’s chest. “He doesn’t, either.”
Cora gave him a dry look. “Is that so?”
“I said I didn’t like to sleep. I didn’t say anything about going to bed.” Before Cora could respond, he tickled Liza’s ribs. “Tell you what, Liza, will you go to bed if I tell you a story?”
Her look was skeptical. “What kind of story?”
“What kind of stories do you like?”
She seemed to consider it for a long moment. “Can it have a pirate in it?”
“Sure.”
“And a dog?”
“Absolutely. A dog named Melody.” At the sound of her name, Melody got to her feet, then followed him when he started toward the stairs.
“And ice cream?”
“What flavor?” He shot Cora a silent invitation as he started up the stairs. Cora mumbled something to Becky, then fell into step behind them.
Liza pursed her lips. “I like chocolate.”
“Not pickle?”
Liza’s face scrunched. “Eeeew.”
“What about cabbage?”
“There’s no such thing as cabbage ice cream.”
“You sure?”
“Sure. That’s gross.”
He reached the top of the stairs, then met Cora’s gaze above Liza’s head. Raising a hand, Cora indicated the room to the right of the landing. He headed down the hall. “All right, chocolate. If it has a pirate, a dog and chocolate ice cream, do you promise to go to bed?”
“What if the thunder comes back?”
The storm was nearly over. The thunder already sounded distant. “Then you can get up,” he promised.
Liza laid her head against his chest. “Okay.”
The door was open and soft light spilled into the hallway. Rafael entered the room to find Molly and Kaitlin having a quiet argument over a book.
“I want to read it,” Molly insisted.
“You can’t,” her sister said. “It’s mine.”
“Girls,” Cora said from the door. “I told you to share the book. Molly, Kaitlin’s letting you sleep in her room. Let her have the book back.”
Molly hesitated, then released the book. “How come she always gets her way?” she demanded.
Kaitlin glared at Cora. “I don’t have to share it if I don’t want to. Mama gave it to me. It’s mine.”
Rafael saw Cora close her eyes in weary acquiescence. She hadn’t followed him into the room. Instead, she leaned against the doorjamb. “Fine,” she said quietly. “Just quit fighting about it.”
He set Liza on the bed and waited for her to scramble beneath the covers next to Molly. When she and the stuffed rabbit were properly settled, he looked at Kaitlin. “Your sister requested a story. Is that all right with you?”
Kaitlin stared at him, wide-eyed. A rumble of thunder had Liza clutching the covers and pleading with her. “Please, Kaitlin. He said he’d put a pirate in it.”
Rafael nodded. “And a dog named Melody.”
Melody had followed them upstairs. She now rubbed against his leg. He scratched her ears until she dropped to the floor and thumped her tail on the carpet.
“I’m too old for bedtime stories,” Kaitlin informed him carefully.
“Naturally,” he concurred. “I’m telling it to Liza. You don’t have to listen if you aren’t interested.”
She hesitated a second longer, then nodded. “Okay.”
No wonder, Rafael thought, that she and Cora were having trouble getting along. She liked control as much as her aunt did. He sat on the edge of the bed and started to spin a t
ale about pirate ships and treasure, chocolate ice cream and a dog named Melody. Liza yawned and rubbed her eyes with her fist. Molly fought her drooping eyelids. Kaitlin sank deeper beneath the covers and watched him, cautiously but intently. When he saw Liza’s eyes drift shut and her mouth go slack, he glanced at Molly and Kaitlin. Both were asleep.
He looked at Cora, who still stood by the door. Raising a hand to his lips, he cautioned her to be silent. She nodded and flipped the lights off. The glow of a night-light cast long shadows in the room. Easing off the bed, he walked to the door. Cora stepped aside to let him pass, then pulled the door partially shut as she joined him in the hall.
He gave her a dry look. “Mission accomplished.”
“Congratulations,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do about nominating you for the Nobel peace prize.”
He laughed softly as they walked toward the stairs. “Is bedtime always like this?”
“Mostly. The storm made it worse than usual.” She hesitated. “They miss their mother. Something like a bad storm makes them miss her more.”
He nodded. “When is she coming back for them?”
Cora shrugged. “I wish I knew.”
The frustration in her voice made him frown. Cora turned away and would have started down the stairs, but he touched her elbow, halting her progress. “You’re very good with them,” he assured her.
Her eyebrows lifted. “You’re the one who talked them to sleep.”
“You’re the one who makes them secure. Don’t underestimate that.”
She studied him for long, inscrutable seconds. “You really didn’t know Jerry was going to do this, did you?” she finally asked.
Pleased, he shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”
“For what it’s worth, I believe you. I don’t know why. I just do.”
“I’m glad.”
With a nod, she headed downstairs. “I suppose you’d better fill me in on what exactly Jerry and Henry are planning to announce about my project tomorrow. I’d rather not get ambushed.”
WHEN THEY JOINED Becky in Cora’s living room, she was setting three mugs of coffee on the table. “You’re through already?” she asked. “That’s got to be a new record.”
Rafael pointed to the ceiling. “They’re sleeping.”
“It’s a miracle.” She handed Cora a mug. “Creamed and sugared, just like you take it.”
“Thanks.” Cora sank into one of the wing chairs.
Becky sat on the couch and cradled her own mug. “Did you want anything in yours, Dr. Adriano?”
He shook his head. “Black is fine. And I wish you’d quit calling me Dr. Adriano. I might forget to answer.”
When Becky flushed, Cora gave him a wry look. “What I want to know is, where was all this charm when you were sending me those pushy letters?”
Rafael laughed and took the seat across from Cora. “You were supposed to read between the lines and find me irresistible.”
Her fingers gripped the arm of her chair. “Well, it worked on Henry Willers, anyway. He obviously couldn’t resist you.”
He stifled his frustration when he thought of his earlier confrontation with Jerry and Henry. He’d been just as surprised as Cora to find out they’d already released a statement that he’d joined the project. Just as surprised, and probably angrier. “Look, Cora,” he said, watching her carefully. She didn’t flinch at the liberty he’d taken with her first name. He took that as a good sign. “I had no idea this was going to happen, but we can’t change it now. It seems to me that we might as well make the best of a potentially bad situation.”
She hesitated a moment. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance of talking Henry out of this.”
Becky shook her head. “He already released a written statement. The conference is just a formality.”
“Ugh.” Cora dropped her head back against the chair. “I should have known.” She looked at Rafael accusingly. “What did you think was going to happen when you told Jerry I’d refused your request?”
“It never occurred to me that you and I wouldn’t come to an understanding,” he said.
“That’s a bit arrogant, don’t you think?”
“Maybe.”
“What if we hadn’t?”
“I would have respected that.” He waited for the truth of the statement to sink in. “I asked Jerry for his opinion. If I’d known he’d try to trump you, I would have handled it differently.”
“I can manage Jerry, believe me.”
“I don’t doubt it.” And he didn’t. Cora wasn’t the type to be cowed by an arrogant SOB like Jerry Heath. “But he can be a real bastard when he wants to be.”
Becky laughed. “You could say that.”
Rafael nodded. “If it counts for anything, when he and Willers told me about this, I told him he was a pain in the ass.”
Cora settled more deeply into her seat. Digging in, he mused. She regarded him with a steady look. “I’m sure he took that well.”
Becky snorted. “What a jerk.”
She had no idea, Rafael thought. He’d been in a black rage since the confrontation in Willers’s office. He’d even threatened to walk off the project, but Jerry had been quick to point out that information had already been issued to the press. If Rafael left and took the prestige of his reputation with him, Jerry would ensure that Cora bore the blame in the eyes of the media and the college. Feeling trapped and hating nothing more than being manipulated and snared, Rafael had conceded, but not without choking several concessions out of Jerry and Henry Willers.
The room had fallen silent, and Cora stared into her coffee mug, frowning intently.
Becky touched Cora’s knee. “Cora, I talked to Willers’s secretary. She was my roommate last year, you know?” Cora nodded, so Becky continued, “They were going to take the entire project away from you. If Dr. Adriano hadn’t intervened, Jerry was just going to make you hand over the diaries to the college. He says you gave the college the rights to any historical records or artifacts you found in this house when you bought it from them.”
“I did,” Cora muttered. “They wouldn’t sell it to me without that clause.”
“So at least this way, you get to continue studying them,” Becky pointed out.
Cora’s short laugh was humorless. “Thank God.” She gave him a cold look. “I should be grateful for that, I suppose.”
He ground his teeth. He should have slugged Jerry when he had the chance. “You’re still in charge of the project,” he said. “I insisted on that.”
Cora didn’t respond. Becky gave Rafael a worried look. “It doesn’t have to be that bad, Cora. I know you’re frustrated, but I’m sure we can work something out.”
Cora took a sip of her coffee. “Becky,” she said patiently, too patiently, “do you have any idea what’s going to happen when the story gets out that Dr. Adriano is here to join this project?” Becky shook her head.
Cora looked at Rafael and said, “Madness and mayhem.”
Rafael decided it was time to tip his hand. “Money and media,” he corrected her. “And from what Jerry tells me, you need them both.”
“We’re not desperate,” she insisted.
“You don’t even have enough in your research funding to complete your examination of the existing diaries—much less for their preservation and authentication.”
Becky nodded. “It’s true, Cora.”
“I’ve got some promising leads,” Cora protested. “It’s—”
Rafael cut her off. “I can guarantee you three million dollars by the end of the week.”
Cora choked. “Three million?”
“Oh, my God,” Becky said, wide-eyed.
Rafael nodded, satisfied. That kind of grant money was unheard of in Cora’s field. She’d probably been hoping for several thousand. “And that’s just starters.”
Cora stared at him. “What could possibly—”
“The historic record tells us that in the fall of 1861 del Flores and his ship disap
peared. He was last seen when he sailed from Savannah on a reported raid. He was supposed to prevent the French fleet from delivering supplies and munitions. The theory is that he encountered bad weather—maybe a hurricane—off the coast and sank.”
“But you don’t think so,” Cora said.
“No. I think he loaded the Isabela with five years’ worth of plunder and headed here, to rendezvous with Abigail. Wherever the Isabela is now, it’s probably still loaded with del Flores’s treasure.”
“Wow,” Becky said. “It would be worth millions.”
“One of the biggest finds ever,” Rafael concurred. “And the cultural significance of those artifacts is unimaginable. Until now, I’ve had nothing to study but del Flores’s own logs and papers. The chance to look at Abigail’s work…”
“If they had an affair,” Becky said. “We don’t even know that for sure. She talks about her lover, but she never names him.”
“I haven’t studied them all,” Cora conceded, “but I haven’t seen his name.”
Rafael wasn’t deterred. “I want to compare what Abigail wrote with what I’ve already discovered about del Flores. If she makes references to her lover that correspond to the dates of his visits, then I can place them together circumstantially.”
“What good will that do?” Becky asked.
“It will explain why no one’s been able to find the ship off the coast of Savannah,” he said quietly. “Because it’s farther north. Closer to here.”
“And you’ve got investors willing to stake that hunch?” Cora pressed.
“I’ve got enough of a reputation that I can raise the money I need.”
“Then why help me?” she probed. “With that kind of cash at your disposal, I’m sure you could persuade Jerry and the rest of the college to just hand you total control of the diaries.”
He heard the bitterness in her voice. He couldn’t blame her for it. She was right on that account. He had enough clout to wrest the project from her completely, if that was what he wanted. But he didn’t merely want access to Cora Prescott’s house—he wanted all the privileges that came with having her on his team. “That’s not what I want. I’m no more interested in sacrificing Abigail Conrad to the fortune hunters than you are. I just want the truth.”
“And the ship?”