by Cullen, Ciar
“Your English is unbelievable.”
“Thank you very much.” Rosa curtsied and smiled broadly. “The Professor has instructed me for many years. He says I am the best pupil he ever had.”
“I don’t want you to betray his personal life. I’m actually trying to figure out where the Professor works, if he has a storeroom here where he works on his artifacts, keeps his notebooks, that sort of thing. I would like to a chance to look at some of his finds.”
“Oh, I don’t know, miss. He might not like that.”
“He would blame me. I wouldn’t say a word, I promise.”
Rosa thought for a moment and then leaned in, speaking softly. “I can’t tell you where things are, but maybe if you found them yourself?” Tam nodded quickly. “There is a little hut behind the house. He locks it at night, but it might be open now.”
Tam squeezed the woman’s shoulders and painfully made her way to the back of the house.
A hut, very reminiscent of an ancient Mayan structure, hugged the palms at the far side of a powder-blue pool of water, a limestone sinkhole. Tam found the hut unlatched and ducked into the cool shade, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light. Pottery shards and tiny bits of jade and stone littered a table against the far wall. Tam took a quick mental inventory of each piece, noting the familiar mixture of Post-Classic materials and shapes. She pulled up a rusty chair and sat at the table, excited as usual at the prospect of examining Mayan finds. Gently, she touched each piece of jade and worked stone, and then turned to the pottery that was so special to her. Tam pulled her glasses from her pocket and put them on to distinguish between the old and new breaks in the pot, most worn with the centuries. She arranged the pieces into general groups, based on the writing coloring their surfaces.
Can’t pull my weight, eh, handsome? You just watch me.
Tam wondered if Twaine knew he had a complete cup. It was small, but well made, with masterful brushstrokes in turquoise and coral-colored pigment covering every shard. She leafed through his dig notebooks, searching for any mention of the cup. The meticulous notes he made of each day’s work, each find, each square meter of soil, mesmerized her. He’s top-notch, the best. SinJin’s careful observations enthralled her, and she understood within moments how he had earned his reputation as a preeminent time detective.
Hints surfaced, everywhere, that a royal family had lived in the area. Filled with excitement, she quickly sorted through the hundred or so shards. Was there enough time? She didn’t have a choice, and certainly nothing to lose. Tam settled in to give Twaine the most beautiful restoration he’d seen, sure that once he saw his precious cup, he wouldn’t consider sending her home.
“No, no, like this.”
SinJin threw his hat to the ground in disgust and wiped the sweat from his brow with his once-white sleeve, demonstrating for what seemed like the thousandth time how he wanted the stones removed. This part of the Yucatan was sparsely populated, and with the exception of a few students from Mexican colleges who came only for a few days at a time, Twaine had only amateur workers. He thought bitterly of his colleagues in other parts of the Mundo Maya. They generally had a well-trained labor force with many men who had worked digs most of their lives. Their workers weren’t formally educated, but were still some of the most talented archaeologists he had encountered. Most of the locals in this area had taken off for the Riviera Maya or Cancun years ago to make better money working at the resorts.
Damn, I’m so close. I need help. The rainy season threatened to start early this year, and all he had was a princess with bloody feet and a bad attitude. He laughed to himself, wondering how smug she was now that Rosa had informed her that her breakfast companion was her new boss. Well, would have been her new boss. He was still going to give her the boot.
“Señor! Andale! Hurry!” SinJin’s heart pounded in his chest as he ran to the other side of the small ruined pyramid. Had they finally found an entrance to the tomb? He pushed his crew chief, Orlando, aside and brushed at the small opening between the huge foundation stones.
Orlando knelt close to SinJin and dug bare-handed with him at the rocky soil. “Is this it, boss?”
“I don’t know.” God, I think it is! “We’ll have to clear away this vegetation and see if we can dig underneath these foundation stones. It won’t be easy.”
It wasn’t. The crew of eight labored for hours, pulling away huge vines and boulders of limestone, trying to reach the bottom edge of the pyramid blocks.
Reluctantly, SinJin called a halt to work and started taking measurements in his notebook.
Orlando gestured excitedly. “We cannot stop now, Professor!”
“No, Orlando. This is when it’s important to take it slowly. The wrong approach could damage whatever is inside. Only patience separates tomb raiders from archaeologists.”
“I thought university degrees did that.”
SinJin smiled wryly at his friend. The crew packed up for the day and left SinJin alone with his notebook, the flood of excitement, and the fear he didn’t have the help to do the job properly. Plus, if he did have a King’s tomb at Pacal, he needed to everything by the book, including the Mexican government’s permission to excavate further. He needed Ramirez. SinJin packed his things quickly and dialed his friend’s number as he began the drive home to Cozmano.
“Alberto Ramirez.”
“It’s me, Alberto.”
“Ah, SinJin! You have some news for me, my friend?”
“Alberto, I’m nearly certain I’ve found a tomb. We cleared a tiny portion of the entrance of brush and vines and found glyphs that make it look very promising. It’s all I can do to hold off until you get here.” He laughed nervously, driving quickly down the treacherous road as he spoke on his cell phone. He tried to calm down, not wanting to betray such emotion to his Mexican colleague.
“I’ll be down as soon as I can, SinJin. I’m a little tied up, but I’ll try for tomorrow or the day after. Now you promise to pull back that damned enthusiasm and swear you won’t touch the tomb until I’m there.”
“Agreed.”
“SinJin, the job offer stands.”
“That’s good, because I quit Princeton today. They wanted me back by next semester. I can’t do it, Alberto. It’s just not me; the stuffy classrooms, the kids they’re putting through there these days, the endless meetings. You should see the bimbo they just sent me as an assistant.”
“Yes, you need to be in the field more than anyone I’ve ever known. Then you’ll take my university’s offer?”
“Gladly. Thanks, Alberto.”
“See you soon, my friend.”
Ramirez hung up.
SinJin breathed in deeply, trying desperately to curb his excitement, to think clearly about how to prepare for the opening of the tomb. As he pulled into the drive of Cozmano, he remembered the blonde.
Taking the porch steps two at a time, he called for Rosa, sniffing in the incredible aroma of her traditional Mayan cooking.
“Rosa!” SinJin found her pulling fresh bread from the oven and hugged her tightly, laughing at her expression of surprise.
“What smells so wonderful?”
“Since we have company, so I thought I’d make your favorite, Pibil chicken. Did you have a good day on the site?”
“Awesome! Asombroso! Perhaps the best day of my life! I may have found what I’m looking for at Pacal—the tomb of Shield Jaguar. We’ll see. Alberto will be here tomorrow or the next day, and he’ll stay for a few days, at least.”
“Professor Ramirez will come from Mexico City? Then this is terribly important!”
“He has to provide me with a permit to excavate further. I only had a partial nod from the government to do preliminary exploration of that section of the site. Understand?”
Rosa nodded enthusiastically.
“Rosa, where is the woman?”
“Tam. Dr. Tamara Martin. I have not seen her for hours. She went exploring, I think. Perhaps a swim in the cenote.”
SinJin frowned. She couldn’t have gotten far on those wounded feet. It wouldn’t be very safe to swim in the sinkhole alone under any conditions, much less at night. He hurried to the back of the house and saw the light in the workroom.
“Son of a bitch!” His body tensed with fury as he strode to the hut and looked in.
She didn’t hear him, but continued to work, glasses pushed down far on her nose, sweat dribbling in beads down her sundress. She sighed and stretched, then put down her tiny glue brush and gently rotated the wooden plank she had placed under the pot. SinJin watched in shock as she examined the exquisitely restored piece—a small cacao cup, one meant for a king. She read the turquoise and coral painted symbols aloud, almost reverently. “Spear Jaguar, son of Shield Jaguar.” Then she pushed her chair back and sighed deeply.
Stunned, SinJin waited to hear if she’d say more. Could it really be the cup of Spear Jaguar—it meant he might be right about the tomb. If the son were at the site, would the father be far away? How had she put it together in one day? He had been putting off the job, sure it would be at least two days’ worth of backbreaking work. How had she read the glyphs so easily? He would have needed to call in an expert. He rubbed his hand through his dusty hair as he watched her sketch busily in his notebook.
She stretched again, and this time, a different shock ran through him. He hadn’t taken the time to really look at her this morning. Her legs went on forever, barely covered by her short dress. Her full breasts were falling out of her dress as she bent over the table, thinking herself alone. Her pale hair brushed her bare shoulders…She’s a bombshell, as beautiful as in the dream.
“Damn it!” He pushed the metal door wide so it creaked loudly.
“Oh! You scared me! I didn’t hear you.”
“How dare you touch my notebooks? And my artifacts! Who the hell do you think you are?”
She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “All right. I took a chance, and it didn’t work. I called you an asshole. Well, you are an asshole. A brilliant one,” she indicated his notebooks with a sweep of her hand. “But an asshole, nevertheless. It doesn’t matter how brilliant or hot you are. Nothing could make up for that horrible personality. I hope you choke on your King, Señor Suave.”
“Which King?”
“Nothing else matters to you, does it? I know your type. Can’t say I blame you, actually. Spear Jaguar, son of Shield Jaguar. Is that what you want to hear? You were hoping for the father, I see.” She shoved the chair back under the workbench. “Lovely cup. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Congratulations—you’ve found your tomb. Will you give me a lift to the road tomorrow? My feet are still killing me.”
SinJin saw her fight back tears—were they tears of anger or disappointment? Probably both. He didn’t move from the doorway.
“How did you do that?”
“What?”
“Put that together so quickly? And read it. Are you sure of what it says?”
“Positive.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Tamara, is it?”
She nodded.
“You’re fired.”
“I know.” She looked at the floor and hobbled toward the doorway, crying openly now. She didn’t leave him any option but to move aside or be slammed with her body. He didn’t move. She nearly bounced off him, but he grabbed her arms and steadied her. She took in a quick breath and looked into his eyes.
“I resigned from Princeton today.” He laughed at her shocked expression. “You can’t imagine someone doing that? They’ve instructed you to return immediately. Did you call me hot?”
“Resigned? But why now, when you might have found Shield Jaguar?”
“I might have found Shield Jaguar.” SinJin let the thrill of the words sweep through him, then pulled himself together at the sight of Tamara’s tears and confused expression. “Today seemed like a good day to let the Mexican Government know what I have down here. My friend, Ramirez, is in charge of all Mexican antiquities.” He didn’t elaborate, seeing she recognized the name. “I’ve accepted his offer of employment, as a Professor of the University of Mexico. He won’t make me teach, thank God. Just some dog-and-pony shows, fundraisers and such. You said I was hot, I’m sure I heard it.”
“Princeton’s been pressuring you to come back and teach?”
He nodded.
“That’s so short-sighted.”
“Agreed.”
“Won’t Princeton make a claim on your finds?”
“They can’t touch it. Not a dime of the funds came through them, and they don’t hold the permit. They know the Mexican Government owns anything I pull out of the ground and they can’t afford to piss off the Minister of Antiquities here, who happens to be my good friend. I don’t want anymore politics. Ramirez is a straight-shooter, at least I think he is.”
“I see. You can let go of me now, mate.”
He moved his hands to her hips, wondering if she’d slap him, or respond.
“I don’t think I want to let go of you.”
“Listen, Professor, under any other circumstances, I’d be sweeping your precious finds off that table and giving you the time of your life. But I’m not much in the mood, after getting fired. So get your fucking hands off me now.”
SinJin let go. She slipped by him and hobbled towards the hacienda.
“Shit.”
She wouldn’t consider it, would she? No, she was young, her entire career ahead of her.
He caught up to her in a few strides and grabbed her wrist.
“Dr. Martin.”
“Fuck off.”
SinJin put both hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him.
“Curb your foul language and listen to me.”
Tam opened her mouth, as if to protest and he clamped a hand over her lips. They stood in near silence for a moment, and as if to fill the empty space, the cicadas sang out in rhythm with the gentle warm night breeze.
SinJin took in a deep breath and searched for the right words, the perfect words. “You have a choice. You can put that suit back on and take up your duties at some college, teaching the unappreciative urchins all about the wonders of the ancient world, probably never putting your full talents to use. Or, you can have a piece of Pacal, as a contributor. Not as a co-author, mind you. My assistant. Same pay as Princeton, but only one weekend day off. The work continues straight through the rainy season, inside the storerooms. You’ve only been here a day, so you don’t know how isolated we are, how hard we work. It’s no picnic, and Cozmano isn’t the Plaza. I suspect I know your answer already, but I’ll give you the night to think of a nice way to refuse my offer.”
He tried to ignore the movement of her breasts beneath the thin fabric of her dress as she panted under his grasp. She was so close, the scent of her light perfume filling the air, heated by the warm night air. Her brilliant blue eyes grew huge, and she looked very confused. He slowly removed his hand and let it slide down her arm, taking a final opportunity to feel her smooth skin. It shocked him to realize he hadn’t touched a woman since Laura, except to hug Rosa.
Doctor Martin, if you could read my mind, see my dream, how you’d be cursing me now.
Regarding him carefully, silently, she slowly pulled her arm away and stepped back. He saw her swallow nervously. It didn’t seem in character, and he waited for the barrage of insults. They never came. Instead, she simply nodded.
“What does that mean?”
“I called you hot.”
A sly smile crept to her eyes and he felt a tremor of hope and life stir in his gut, a sensation he never expected to feel again.
“I thought so. But I can’t compete with Princeton.”
“I came here for Pacal, for the tomb. Not for Princeton. I hate teaching the ‘urchins’, as you call them. And we’ll see about that co-author clause, Professor.”
“It’s non-negotiable.”
“Everything’s negotiable, SinJin.”
/> “Then you’ll throw in that lap-dance, along with long hours sketching glyphs and restoring pottery?”
“Before the season’s over, I’ll throw in a lap dance.” She turned her back on him and headed towards the house. Rosa stood on the veranda, motioning for the pair to come to dinner.
Before the week’s over, if I have anything to say about it.
* * *
Except for comments to Rosa on her spectacular cooking, Tam and SinJin ate dinner in complete silence. Tam finished a wonderful pastry dessert and placed her napkin on the table. With a final sip of her coffee, she stood and turned, not intending to say a word to this strange, compelling man.
“I didn’t expect a goodnight kiss, but a ‘goodnight’ might be in order. You are under my roof.”
Tam scowled. “You’re a horrible host. You offer me a job and then can’t find a single freaking thing to say to me. No wonder you lose your assistants. You’re not dangerous, you’re pathetic.”
“I can still withdraw that offer.”
Don’t fall for it, he needs you.
“Go ahead.” She bit her lip to hide her fear and watched him carefully. He leaned back casually in his chair, running his hand through his thick over-long brown hair. Tam tried desperately to push aside the fact that SinJin Twaine was a perfect specimen. He’d managed to shower and put on a clean shirt, his damp hair gleamed in the candlelight, and that face… Suppressing a sigh, she reminded herself what an idiot he was. A complete, grade-A asshole.
“You’re fired. I’ll get Tyre up here. I’ve avoided that call long enough.”
Tam’s heart flopped in her chest, a chill ran through her veins. “Tyre Rasmussen? Figures you’d know the only archaeologist to get kicked out of Harvard for harassing his female students! Go to hell!” Tam braced herself on the table and leaned in closer to him. “Get Tyre Rasmussen, go ahead, ruin whatever reputation you have left. You tricked me on purpose, asshole! You let me believe you were some flunky for the great St. John Twaine and then pull this ‘stay, I need you’ bullshit. What’s up with that? Well, Professor, your reputation precedes you, so I should have guessed. My friends all said ‘find the biggest idiot in Mexico, and that will be the Ivy League Beast.’” She folded her arms in satisfaction.