by Cullen, Ciar
Maybe he’s the professor’s errant son. No, too old. Must be his brother, his drunken brother.
Tam felt his close examination as his gaze swept up her legs to her chest, where it lingered. She looked down to see her lacy white camisole, transparent with sweat.
“Never seen breasts before, Señor? Did you get a good look? Want me to strip down in exchange for some water? How about a lap dance?”
He laughed lightly and leaned patiently against a porch column.
“I seem to have stumbled onto the set of Survivor. You want me to get kicked off the island, is that it?”
“Are you always in such a good mood, or is this just my lucky day?” His mild accent threw her. Tam cursed to herself. As if looking like a movie star wasn’t enough, he had to have that sexy accent. Here’s trouble, Tam. He’s a bad boy—drinking in the middle of the day, nasty, rude, dark and brooding, a breast man—everything you love in a guy. Steer clear.
“All right. Since you won’t help me, perhaps you can tell me where I can find Professor Twaine?”
“Gone.” He took a sip from his glass as he continued to stare her down in challenge.
“Gone? What do you mean? Isn’t this his house? I’m Doctor Tamara Martin, his new assistant.”
“Gone out into the field, Doctor Martin. Won’t be back for hours.”
“Well, can you help me? As I said, I’m his new assistant from Princeton and I…” Tam thought for a second an earthquake was hitting the Mayan Riviera, then realized the ground wasn’t moving. Her last thought before passing out was that Twaine would think she was soft.
“Oh, for chrissakes.”
SinJin saw her sway and before he could reach her, she collapsed in a heap on the ground. So much for the white suit. Then he saw her feet, bleeding from a hundred cuts. How the hell had she walked up the road like that? Well, he’d get her out of the sun, give her some water, and give her a lift into town. Then call Princeton and ball them out for sending a girl to do a man’s job. What kind of babies were they putting through the department these days? They would fucking hear about this one. He could take his research to Harvard or Yale, and it was time to let them know it. Typical. His asshole colleagues knew how to keep alumni dollars rolling in and how to preach old-school archaeology to clueless kids, but they couldn’t find him a competent assistant.
SinJin glanced down at the flushed cheeks of the young lady he held in his arms. She seemed bright enough, at least she had a personality and a flair for language.
But what kind of imbecile wears a suit into the Yucatan jungle, in the middle of August?
SinJin looked around for his housekeeper. “Rosa!”
The matron waddled onto the porch, squealing in horror at the sight of the unconscious woman. SinJin carried her into his room and laid her gently on his bed. He felt her head and groaned. This could actually be serious.
“Rosa, give her water, a little at a time. She’s badly dehydrated. Please wash her down with cool water and see to her feet. She needs antibacterial cream.”
Rosa caught her breath at the sight of the girl’s bloodied soles. “Mother of God, who is she? What happened to her?”
“Princeton sent her. I’m putting her on the first plane back to New Jersey tomorrow.”
“Professor SinJin, she cannot travel for a few days.”
“We’ll see.”
SinJin spent the evening on the porch, sipping wine and writing in his notebook, toying with the idea of calling Princeton and quitting outright. The girl would have to go, of course. She was probably a hack. Too good looking to be competent on the dig, to be dedicated enough to tough it out. A shame, really, she would have been nice eye candy.
He drifted into the twilight between waking and sleep, thinking of Shield Jaguar’s tomb. Deep sleep finally pulled him away from fretting about the dig.
A lovely blonde came to him in the dark, whispering her desires as she let her dress fall to the floor. Quick hard desire filled him at the site of her bare breasts, her legs, a tiny patch of silk hugging her pussy. He reached to pull her down, dying to rip off her thong, take her onto his hard cock, find his release. She smiled slyly, pushed his hands away, and knelt beside him. She stripped off his pants and whispered into his ear, flicking her tongue inside to heat up every word.
“SinJin, I’m so wet, so hot. Don’t you want to feel how wet I am? Tell me what you want. What’s your fantasy, SinJin? The one you won’t tell anyone.”
She fondled his swollen cock and brought her wet lips onto the head, rubbing it back and forth until he moaned in blissful agony. He looked down to see her huge blue eyes gleam in pleasure as she took him deep into her throat. Moaning and fighting his release, he wondered how he could make her go on forever.
“Who are you? Tell me, please.”
She smiled and tore off her thong, revealing the wet folds ready to engulf his world. Ever so slowly she lowered herself onto his cock, moaning in pleasure as she moved up and down, clenching onto his hardness to milk him dry.
“Tell me your name,” he begged again, panting in pleasure. He was ready to explode when he saw a glint of moonlight against a blade. She moved the knife to his chest. He struggled, but found that his arms were bound to the bed. When he tried to scream, no sound would come from his mouth. She slowly pressed the knife into his chest, whispering her love for him.
SinJin bolted upright, soaked with sweat, heart pounding. Why the hell was he dreaming about the Princeton girl, Doctor Martin? Get her out of here, SinJin. You don’t need the distraction.
Chapter Two
Tam woke with a pounding headache and slowly took in her surroundings, remembering she was at Hacienda Cozmano, remembered fainting onto the dirt path in front of the arrogant hunk. She reached for the bottle of water on the nightstand and sipped slowly as she tried to sit up. The room spun a bit and she lay back down.
A light breeze blew in through the window, stirring lovely sheer white curtains hand-embroidered in traditional Mayan floral designs. The room was furnished in heavy antique wooden furniture and would have looked stark were it not for the soft touches in every corner—a small vase full of wildflowers, a crocheted throw of delicate lace, a hand-carved statue of the Virgin, and an artful arrangement of candles and traditional pottery on a small low table.
The song of birds filled the air and the room grew brighter by the minute. Tam glanced at her watch and realized in shock that the streaks of light now streaming into the room signaled sunrise. She’d slept like the dead for at least fifteen hours! Low voices and the clanking of dishes from the porch outside her window stirred her nerves. What would the professor think? Intent on apologizing for being such an inconvenience, Tam sat up, working her way to the edge of the bed, fighting the cloudiness of her brain. Get it together, Martin! You have to make a good first impression on Twaine.
When she pushed herself to her feet, she nearly crumpled to the floor in agony and sat back down to examine her wounds. Someone had wrapped gauze bandages around her feet, now stained with the blood of what looked like dozens of small cuts. Surely that oaf hadn’t been the one to treat her wounds? Who had changed her into a simple huipile, a Mayan cotton shift?
She listened carefully and heard the lilting tones of a woman speaking in Spanish. Hobbling painfully to the window, Tam peaked out to see the arrogant bastard sitting alone at a table, bare-chested, wolfing down eggs and toast. A rotund middle-aged Mayan woman poured a cup of coffee for him and he smiled broadly at her in appreciation. Tam nearly gasped at the change in his face, the open affection for the woman reflected in his beautiful brown eyes.
Perhaps she had caught him at a bad moment yesterday. A wave of relief swept through her. He looked reasonable enough now, and no doubt would give her the welcome she deserved, take her to Twaine.
She found her way to a small bathroom off the bedroom and pulled off her shift, anxious to clean up a bit and put on her own clothes, which were arranged neatly on a bench along one wall. After tow
eling down with cool water, she pulled on a sundress and took a step back to look into the small mirror hanging on the wall. The sight shocked her—she was pale as a ghost, with dark circles under her eyes.
“You’ll impress Twaine all right. He’ll probably send you packing.”
There was no sense in putting off the inevitable, so Tam painfully pulled on flip-flops and quietly stepped onto the porch, plastering a smile on her face.
“Good morning,” Tam said cheerfully.
The Mayan woman approached Tam and stood on tiptoes to feel her forehead.
“No fever, but you look unwell. Are you sure you don’t want to stay in bed, miss?”
“I’m just fine, thanks.”
The woman made a clucking noise to indicate she wasn’t buying Tam’s claim and indicated a seat at the table across from the other houseguest, who didn’t acknowledge her presence.
“Huevos? Eggs, miss?”
“No, maybe just some toast, Señora.”
“Please, call me Rosa. I am Professor Twaine’s housekeeper.”
“Did you dress me and take care of my feet? I really appreciate it.”
“My pleasure. Now, tell me the truth, how do you feel this morning?”
“Like I was hit by a train. It’s a bit of sunstroke, I guess.” Tam thought the man snickered softly, but she wasn’t sure. Who could be so rude as to find her condition amusing?
“Keep drinking water all day, and get lots of rest.”
Rosa left Tam alone with the idiot, waiting impatiently for a greeting she suspected wouldn’t come. He held up a newspaper and whistled idly as he sipped at his coffee.
“I’m Tamara Martin. You are…?”
He ignored her.
“Listen, asshole, I don’t know what your problem is, but when the Professor gets back, I’m going to let him know how rude you were to me yesterday. Making me drag that bag up this road. For God’s sake, put on some clothes! You’re on a professional dig.”
He snorted at that, drained his mug, stood, and made a sarcastic sweeping bow to Tam.
“Jackass.”
“I’ll be sure and let the Professor know your thoughts on my behavior and the dig’s dress code.”
“You’re going to the site? Please tell Professor Twaine that I look forward to meeting him. My feet should be all right by tomorrow and I’ll be able to contribute. You’ll at least pass on that message?”
He grabbed keys from the table and ran down the stairs to the Land Rover. Tam stood and called after him, repeating her question, but he ignored her, tearing down the road in a swirl of dust.
What will he tell Twaine about me? Damn. Well, there’s not much you can do ‘til they pack up for the day.
Tam sipped coffee and took in the lovely grounds fronting the hacienda, no doubt an old plantation house. The structure was surely well over a hundred years, but well kept, with bright tiles and potted plants betraying a woman’s touch. The enchanting ruins of a tiny Mission-era chapel peaked out from the jungle’s edge, and Tam hobbled painfully to explore it more closely, finding a small shrine to the Virgin against one wall—a humble altar covered with dying flowers and candle stubs.
When she returned to the porch, Rosa brought Tam’s meal and refilled her coffee cup.
“Oh, Professor SinJin is already gone? I wanted to ask him about dinner!”
“Professor SinJin? What do you mean?”
“St. John. You know, it is said ‘SinJin’. It is a little joke in these parts to call him Professor Sin, although that is his name really, do you see? Very funny.”
“I’m sorry, Rosa. You’ll have to explain something to me.” No! It wasn’t possible “Who was that man who left in the Land Rover?”
“What do you mean, miss? Professor Twaine? Did you not come here to work with him?” Rosa giggled a bit, evidently tickled by Tam’s situation.
“Oh, dear God.” Tam rubbed her forehead. “Rosa, I called the Professor a jackass. And an asshole.”
“I think I heard you tell him to put on some clothes too, miss?”
“Yeah, that too. Oh God.”
“I think he looks pretty good undressed. I would hate to see him change that.” Rosa laughed harder, clapping her hands in little gestures of glee.
“Oh, God.”
Rosa continued giggling as she made her way back to the kitchen, leaving Tam alone to pick at her meal. She finally gave up on food and limped back and forth across the porch, swearing up a blue streak. You’ve done it now, Martin. Nice job. You called the great SinJin Twaine a jackass.
Rosa reemerged onto the porch, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Sit, miss, please. Your feet will open up again!”
“Sorry about the cursing, Rosa.”
“I’ve heard cursing before, Dr. Martin. A good deal of cursing, actually. Don’t be upset about calling SinJin a jackass. He hears worse, you may trust Rosa on this fact.”
“I’m such a goddamned idiot. I simply cannot shut up. Ever. This was my big chance. Oh well, he won’t make me limp down to the bus stop, will he? He’s not that much of an asshole, right?”
“I don’t think he’s that much of an asshole.” Rosa shook her head seriously.
Tam continued her painful pacing, and to her embarrassment, tears started to flow down her cheeks.
“Oh Doctor Martin, stop it now. This is not good for your feet. Perhaps it’s for the best. Most of his assistants—actually all of his assistants—leave, sooner or later.”
“I’m tougher than that, Rosa. I don’t care about his bad attitude, and I’m a better archaeologist than anyone else Princeton’s sent him. No, I fucked up royally this time.”
She sank onto a porch chair and let the tears take over. Rosa sat with her and gently rubbed her back until she calmed down.
“I cry when I’m angry. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I do the same thing.”
“This place...” Tam gestured at the grounds of Cozmano. “It’s perfect. I would have been happy here, I know it.” Tam took in the smells, sounds, and caressing warm air and let them fill her close to tears again. A colorful bird streaked through the air and landed on a nearby branch. Its exotic cry echoed, the forlorn feeling clutching at her chest.
“I guess I’ll never see my jaguar.”
“Your jaguar?”
“I’ve dreamt for years of seeing one in the wild. I planned on going south at the end of the season, maybe to the wildlife refuge.” Tam shook her head in dismay and sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to be at Pacal with the Professor right now, Rosa. Bad attitude and all. He is a real bear, though, isn’t he?” She managed to laugh a little.
“A bear? I do not know this joke. You poor thing, perhaps he will change his mind.”
“He’s written me off already. Nothing will change his mind, short of a miraculous discovery of my own.” If only I had one chance to show him what I can do.
“I don’t think the Professor cares about the things you said, Dr. Martin. He’s not very…sensitive about what strangers think of him.”
Tam barely heard the woman, desperately searching for a way to demonstrate her skills. How could she get to the site? Impossible.
“Rosa, does the Professor work here, at the house?”
“Of course. He works all the time, as soon as he comes back from the site, sometimes into the night. Almost every day of the year, except…”
“What?”
“Never mind, I talk too much myself.”
“Come on, Rosa. Help me out here. You know I probably blew my chance at this job. I’m trying to get it back. Please?”
“Miss, I never talk about SinJin, but because you’re a pretty single lady…maybe you won’t want to stay? He’s…a little different. Sometimes the sadness comes over him. You know what I mean?”
“Grief, you mean? Because his wife died.”
“Then you have heard of his loss. His wife, yes, and his baby. That’s part of it.”
Tam took in a breath.
Baby?
“It was too soon, the birth, and Laura hadn’t been well.”
“I didn’t know. How awful.”
Rosa nodded. “Yes, I was with him then. Miss Laura, she was very young, and not cut out for this life, you see? Not always so kind to me.” She lowered her voice. “Not so kind to him either. Do you understand my meaning? I don’t think she wanted to be here. But SinJin wanted to stay, you see? Nothing could drag him from Pacal, not even the health of his wife.”
Tam nodded thoughtfully. No wonder he was a bastard. His wife died in childbirth in the middle of nowhere because he insisted on staying, and no doubt he blamed himself.
“And he gets sad, sometimes, Rosa? He is kind to you, though? He doesn’t hit you or anything?”
“Oh, Señorita, he is very kind to me, like a son.” She lowered her voice. “But have you not heard the other problem—the curse of Pacal? Many people think he should leave the site. It seems to wear him down. I hear his cries in the night sometimes, the dreams.”
“Oh, come on, you don’t believe in that stupid curse? That’s not why his wife died.”
Rosa made the sign of the cross on her chest and kissed her thumb in response.
“When he has the bad times, I stay away. The drink, you know? Only once in a long while, maybe once, twice in a year. He isn’t a boracho, a drunk, that’s not what I mean. It doesn’t last long, and I come back and we don’t talk about it.”
“You are a very good employee, Rosa.”
“Oh, I am paid very well! My husband is gone and SinJin takes good care of my children and me. Do not feel sorry for Rosa!”