by Rachel Grant
Lee nodded.
JT snickered. “Good luck, Skippy.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
ERICA RESTED HER HEAD on the desk. She could feel the clock ticking away the minutes until the environmental assessment was due, but the report had large gaps. It was Sunday afternoon, and all she had was speculation. She needed to prove Andrew Jackson Higgins’s company had invented Thermo-Con.
If she could do that, the historic value of the house would increase, and therefore, the human bones in the basement would be more troubling for Sam Riversong. He couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie; he’d have to investigate. Which meant he’d have to meet with her again.
Unfortunately, the Higgins name on the patent card wasn’t Andrew Jackson Higgins. She reread the book description online. The book was a biography, titled Andrew Jackson Higgins and the Boats that Won World War II. She’d called every bookstore in DC and none had the title in stock. She would call the publisher first thing tomorrow morning. If she could speak to the author, maybe he could confirm her theories about Thermo-Con and Higgins.
She clicked on a search-engine icon and followed the link to people search, finding nothing promising when she typed in the author’s name. She studied her notes from the patent office. The patent had been filed under two names: Johnson and Higgins. On a whim, she typed in the full Higgins name, giving Louisiana, where Higgins Industries had been located, as the state.
She felt a flutter in her belly as one listing appeared. She shrugged it off. It wasn’t possible. The patent was over fifty years old.
She went back to the report and read through what she’d written. It was fairly good, but it would be better if all the supposition and theory could be replaced with fact.
The result of the people search nagged at her. What did she have to lose? She picked up the phone and dialed. A young man answered the phone, and she asked to speak with the man named on the patent.
“He doesn’t live here anymore, but I can give you his number.”
“Maybe you can tell me if he’s the person I’m looking for. I’m trying to find a man who worked for Higgins Industries just after World War II? He’s named on a patent for what I think is a type of concrete known as Thermo-Con.”
“Oh, you’re talking about my grandpa, he worked for Higgins Industries. I thought you were asking for my dad, who has the same name, but is junior. My grandpa worked on Thermo-Con. He died a long time ago, but you can call my dad. He can tell you all about grandpa.”
She could feel her pulse in the fingers that gripped the phone. “So you’re saying Higgins Industries—the company that built Higgins boats—did invent a type of concrete called Thermo-Con?”
“Yeah. That’s right. Andrew Jackson Higgins—AJ—is my great-grandpa. My grandpa worked for him on the Thermo-Con team. My dad knows all about AJ and the company. You should call him.” He rattled off the number.
Erica’s hands shook as she wrote down the phone number. She thanked the young man, hung up the phone, and let out a loud yelp.
Lee came running into the den. “Erica? Are you okay?”
Thrilled to have someone to share her excitement with, she launched herself at him. He caught her with an oof as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.
“I did it!” she exclaimed, then kissed him with all the exuberance she felt. Her tongue slid into his mouth as she threaded her fingers through his hair, and he kissed her back with equal enthusiasm. Damn, he was a good kisser.
She pulled back and grinned. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I did?”
“I don’t care what you did,” he said, taking a step toward the extended sofa bed.
She laughed. She didn’t know what had come over her but didn’t care. She gripped his hair and pulled his mouth to hers again. After another interval, she leaned back and said, “We don’t have time for this now. I’ve got a phone call to make.”
“You started it,” he said. They’d reached the foot of the bed, and he dropped kisses along her throat as she arched backward to give him better access.
“Oh God, Lee. I’m so excited,” she said breathlessly. He plucked out her hairpins one by one. Her hair tumbled down her back.
“So am I, Shortcake.” He nibbled her neck as his fingers threaded through her hair.
She laughed. “No. No. I’m excited about Thermo-Con.”
He stopped. “You’re hell on my ego.”
“You’ll survive.” She kissed him again, then wriggled until he set her down.
“So what, besides me, are you all excited about?”
“You were right about the connection between Higgins Boats and Thermo-Con. I just spoke with Andrew Jackson Higgins’s great-grandson. He said Higgins Industries did invent Thermo-Con. We may not have the patent file, but we did find the patent!”
“That’s great,” he said without enthusiasm.
She laughed. “Aren’t you excited?”
“I was excited about getting you naked.”
“But we’ve found the inventor, and now we have a solid theory for why the Thermo-Con house was built for ERDL. We can connect the house to a bona fide historical figure who was directly involved in the project. We’re talking about a person who Dwight D. Eisenhower referred to as ‘the man who won the war for us.’” She pushed Lee away from her. “Now shoo. I’ve got to call AJ’s grandson—the son of the man named on the patent.”
He pulled her against him, and she felt his arousal against her belly. His voice deepened as he said, “I think we should celebrate with sex first.” His mouth captured hers in a kiss that blew their earlier efforts out of the water.
He had a good point. No, scratch that. A hard point. Her fingers wandered to the buttons on his shirt as the mattress pressed against the back of her knees. All she had to do was lean backward and she’d be on the bed with Lee tumbling on top of her.
The front door opened, then closed with a bang. “Honey, I’m home,” JT called out.
“Damn,” Lee muttered, releasing her.
She laughed. “Another time, maybe.” She reached for the telephone.
“SO, AFTER I GOT OFF THE PHONE with AJ’s grandson,” Erica said, “I called his aunt. She and I had the loveliest conversation.” She grinned at her dinner companions—her temporary roommates. They sat in the dining area, eating delivered Chinese food and drinking wine JT had opened to celebrate her success with Thermo-Con. She knew little about wine but suspected this bottle sold for three figures.
She swirled the liquid in her glass and admired the deep garnet color, feeling a hum of satisfaction with both the company and her progress on the report. JT reached for the rice. While he was distracted, Lee shot her a heated look, causing a sensuous flame to slither through her, adding a certain naughty pleasure to her already giddy mood.
JT’s eyes crinkled indulgently. “What did the aunt tell you?”
She swallowed a bite of mu shoo pork before answering, “She was married to the guy who ran the Thermo-Con development team. He died about twenty years ago, but she knew all about his work. She told me how Higgins tried to market Thermo-Con. She doesn’t know anything about the house built on Fort Belmont, but she agreed with our theory that Higgins was trying to sell Thermo-Con to the army. He probably had the house built for ERDL, hoping the army engineers would love it so much they’d build Higgins Thermo-Con homes on bases all over the world.”
She wondered if she was babbling and worried her social demeanor had grown rusty with disuse. JT had been nothing but kind to her and treated her like a kid sister, but still, she couldn’t help feeling uneasy around him. The man was way out of her league. He was tennis to her ping-pong.
Then there was Lee. She didn’t know how or why, but he’d gotten under her skin. She felt his presence on a cellular level and craved his company like fine chocolate. But Lee wasn’t ping-pong either. No. Rugby came to mind: foreign and unfamiliar, but rowdy, fun, and blatantly physical.
“So what does all this mean for th
e house on the reservation?” JT asked.
“Well, for one thing, we meet our deadline. I finished the report. But mostly it means the house is historically significant and should be protected as such. It looks like there is at least one burial beneath the basement, and there might be more, so protecting the burials versus the house could get tricky. In most cases, the burials would trump the historic property.” Belatedly, she realized that she was speaking to a man who was one-quarter Menanichoch. She spoke quickly to cover any offense, “As well it should. Human remains are much more important than structures, even when the structure is connected to an historical figure.”
JT shrugged. “I leave those issues to tribal members who are more informed. In this situation, I run the company doing the work, and I’m looking out for Talon & Drake’s interest, not the tribe’s. Will the tribe be happy with your work?”
“The house is in poor shape. Letting it slide into further disrepair would be an adverse effect to what is clearly an historic property. The remains are tricky, though, and will require consultation, mitigation, and management.” This opportunity was too good to let slide by, and she gave the big boss a sweet smile. “I’d like to be the Talon & Drake point person. I know the issues; I know the project.”
JT cocked his head to the side. “But you don’t have an MA. Based on the Secretary of the Interior Standards, you aren’t qualified.”
She strained to maintain the smile. She had a perfectly good MA, which she was still paying for. “I would work under Janice’s supervision, of course.”
“Then I’m sure the tribe would be satisfied if you were selected.”
Dammit. She was as qualified as anyone to run this project. In her pre-Jake life, she’d written several EAs and had run a few sensitive burial excavations. “It might be a good opportunity for Lee. He could learn about the process.”
“Actually, I’ve got other plans for Lee. I need him elsewhere for the next week or so.” He looked at Lee. “The New York office is having problems with a database you created. Since you’ve wrapped up Thermo-Con, you can take a break from helping Erica and fix it.”
Lee’s eyes flashed with alarm.
She set down her chopsticks. “Lee created a database for the New York office?”
Worry faded, and Lee’s expression turned blank.
“Yes,” JT said.
Lee didn’t flinch or look away. He just gazed steadily at Erica, neither confirming nor denying JT’s statement.
She looked from Lee to JT. “But he’s incompetent with computers. Especially databases.”
Surprise crossed JT’s face; then some sort of understanding registered. He took a deep breath and spoke as though resigned. “He’s been programming since he was a kid.”
“Is this true?” She wanted to skewer Lee with a chopstick.
He nodded, but his expression remained blank.
Hurt was followed by rage. She held Lee’s gaze but spoke to JT. “He’s still a kid.”
Lee inclined his head in agreement.
“Why did you lie?”
“I’m working at Talon & Drake to learn about archaeology.” His voice was cold and steady. “I’m not there to work on your cell tower database. I already know about databases. I get paid much more than minimum wage to work on databases. It seemed prudent to lie.”
He obviously didn’t care about the hours she’d spent fixing the damn database while he played computer games. “But you haven’t shown the slightest interest in archaeology or anything we do at Talon & Drake. The only thing I’ve seen you work on with any kind of dedication is improving your Tetris score.” Appetite gone, she stood and left the room.
ERICA’S DOOR SLAMMED, rattling the dishes on the dining room table. Alone with JT, Lee took another sip of wine and set his glass down with extreme care, determined not to take his anger out on the fragile crystal. No, he had a better target. He glared at JT. “Nice job.”
“I was trying to give you an outside job so you could hack without looking like a slacker in her eyes. I didn’t know you’d lied about your skills.”
“You stupid shit. I’ve lied to her about everything. You told me to be incompetent. So I am.”
“I told you to be incompetent about archaeology. Not computers.”
“It’s not like we’re on some sort of dig. We’re in the office. All the work is on the computer. Hence, I’ve been a technological moron pretending to play simple computer games.”
JT smiled slightly. “Damn, she’s pissed.”
“You have no idea what she went through with her cell tower database. That’s why she worked late Wednesday night.”
“But you could have fixed it for her.”
“Hell, I’m the one who broke it. I’d left the Thermo-Con file in Arnie’s office and couldn’t get it back because your meeting ended. I had to give her something to do so she wouldn’t notice the file was missing.”
How on earth could he repair the rift between them?
He closed his eyes and thought about how she’d felt in his arms today. Wild and wanton, she’d kissed him with abandon while her thick hair draped over his arm. All he’d wanted to do was toss her on the bed and slide slowly into her, gazing into her warm gray eyes as he discovered the secrets of her body.
He opened his eyes, letting go of the fantasy. “I’ve got a lot of cell phone calls and e-mails to sort through at the office. Pretending to play computer games was wearing thin. Your idea of giving me a fake programming task was a good one. I just wish you’d warned me. But, even if you had, her anger was inevitable.”
JT nodded. “We’ll have to ask her to keep the fact that you’re working for me a secret.”
“I think she’ll go along.”
“Unless she’s involved. Then she might guess what you’re doing.”
“She’s not,” Lee said. He didn’t know where this conviction came from, but he didn’t doubt it.
“Find out everything you can about Novak. My gut says he’s involved with the smuggling, and if we get something solid, I can stop Drake from teaming with him. But we have to do it in a way that doesn’t tip them off that we’re on to them.”
“I know. I’m on it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
JT FACED ERICA ACROSS the breakfast table. He had to deal with his screwup now, before she went to the office and ruined the perfect cover he’d created for Lee. “I have a favor to ask.”
She cocked her head, inviting him to speak. Her hair captured the early morning sun. Her beauty today was remote, reserved, a far cry from the relaxed, warm woman he’d had dinner with last night. She was a puzzle, and he worried that Lee, the most cool-headed and rational man he knew, was preoccupied with solving her.
“I don’t want you to tell anyone at the office Lee is staying in my apartment. And, of course, it’d be best if you don’t mention you’re here either.”
“I understand what people would think if they knew about me, but why Lee?”
“He needs to make his own name for himself at Talon & Drake.”
She scoffed. “He doesn’t stand a chance.”
“I know you’re pissed right now, and I don’t blame you. But he’s a good kid with a good mind—when he chooses to use it.” He smiled, knowing how his words would grate on Lee.
“Why is he working for Talon & Drake?” she asked. “He doesn’t really have a burning interest in archaeology. None that I’ve seen, anyway.”
Shit. She’d asked the one question they’d hoped to avoid. Why couldn’t Lee have been paired with a flake who didn’t give a crap? Weren’t archaeologists supposed to be crystal-hugging Indian-wannabes? As one-quarter Indian, he’d met his share of wannabes and suffered through their thoughtless questions and bizarre adulation of a genetic heritage they couldn’t claim. None of those people would have noticed Lee’s lack of interest.
He sighed in a heavy but not overblown manner. “I wanted to place him with technical support, but he refused. We compromised on archaeology.”
“I don’t get it. Why did you give him a job at all?”
“His mother asked me to. She’s hoping—and I am too—the experience of working in a professional office will help him to find his focus.” Good luck getting into her pants now, Lee. He wasn’t trying to sabotage Lee’s chances with the potential artifact thief; it was just a side benefit of this cover story. He continued. “His mother told him if he doesn’t complete the internship, she won’t pay his tuition in the fall.”
“So he can’t quit.”
“No, he can’t. And I won’t fire him.” So don’t even try, sweetheart. “It sounds like he hasn’t been much help to you, and the database needs a major overhaul, so for the next week, he’s going to work on that.”
“You’re going to pay him minimum wage to do technical work worth several times that?”
He smiled at her obvious glee. “Yup.”
“I hope it’s a task he hates.”
“Don’t worry, he hates everything about this job.” That was the truest thing he’d said to her since they’d met.
ERICA TOOK THE METRO to her apartment and picked up her car, which she’d left there because she had an underground, secure parking space included with her monthly rent, and it was impossible to find parking by the Watergate. The drive to the office was maddening, and she cursed the stop-and-go traffic as she inched up Wisconsin Avenue. She much preferred the Metro, but today she needed the car.
Traffic only soured an already poor mood. She alternated between anger and disappointment. The ridiculous way she’d thrown herself at Lee yesterday nagged at her. Why had she kissed him like that? Worse, she’d lain awake half the night wishing he’d come to her room to apologize. And make amends.
He was an irresponsible, immature pretty boy who showed no sign of growing up. Except for the rest of the time…when he was the exact opposite.
He was a distraction she didn’t want or need. Her week was up, and Thermo-Con was due. She would deliver the report to the tribe today and hopefully find an excuse to see Riversong.