she abandoned herself to a man's passion, she'd prove that behind her cool exterior hid
a woman with a passion that would burn him to a cinder.
He'd also noted her reluctance to discuss family, about the brother who'd died and
the tension between father and daughter. With startling force he realized he wanted to
know more about her. But if he didn't pay attention to what Emma said now she would
notice and then she'd be mad at him again. And the angrier she was, the more the rest
of her seemed to back off, to withdraw.
He also sensed she hid a trauma within her, something nasty and filled with a pain
still ripe. Her scars obviously ran deep. He shouldn't care so much, shouldn't wonder
why she reacted to him with fear one moment and ravenous passion the next. Yet he
liked a challenge, and Emma presented a conundrum he wanted to solve. Not used to
wavering on which direction he'd take next, his confusion about her ate away at his
confidence. Damned if his mind and body didn't both dare him to uncover her secrets
one layer at a time.
Luckily for him, she rattled on about initial contour surveys, leveling, ranging rods,
plumb bobs, and running a base line. He managed to drag his attention away from his
sexual appetite and simply listened to her. His admiration of her knowledge grew. Her
intelligence aroused him as much as her body. Perturbed, he shoved away thoughts of
having her in his arms. It was all physical, nothing more.
"Here you can see the area where the cabin sat." She dropped the bundle of pin
flags and led the way toward the crumbled fireplace. She patted the dappled brick.
"Grant and I had planned on excavating this area next week."
He could hear the underlying tension in her words. Maybe her fight with Wilder
was a good thing if it stopped her and Wilder from excavating the fireplace and
exploring the surrounding mine.
"What about your test excavation? You haven't found anything close to resembling
a treasure, have you?" he asked.
"No. The initial scatter of objects may be misleading." Emma chewed her lower lip
and his gaze focused on that tender flesh. He remembered how it felt to sample her
lips—warm…soft and tender.
She broke his fantasy when she knelt by the pit and looked at the spot Grant had
been working on earlier.
"What is it?" he asked.
Emma didn't answer right away and he knelt down next to her, automatically
placing a hand on her back. She flinched as if he'd burned her, her eyes wide. He
removed his hand.
He had no one to blame but himself for her jumpiness. If he'd been smart he'd have
kept his hands off her completely. Instead he'd thrown caution away on the gusting
wind that now swirled about the ground, stirring up dust devils.
"Maybe he put it in a bag and labeled it," she said.
"Put what in a bag?"
She pointed to a small depression in the dirt. "Just before you arrived, Grant was
working on something in this corner."
Suspicion skewered him like a knitting needle. "Obviously he extracted
something."
She shifted on her knees over to two small clear baggies sitting next to the pit. "He
may have put whatever he found in a bag and didn't have time to tell me." She picked
up one bag. "We label each bag with the exact location of where artifacts were found.
This one is a soil sample." She looked into the other bag. "This one is a rusty nail."
"Not exactly great loot."
"And not whatever it was that he found in that depression." Her lips compressed
into a frown.
Anger tightened Shane's stomach. "I thought you said you weren't collectors?"
Her forehead creased as she frowned, and as Emma stood, she rubbed her hands on
her jeans. "We're not collectors. It's against the ethics of our profession."
He stood. "Then why didn't he label what he found and store it in a bag?"
"He probably forgot about it when you arrived. Maybe he stuffed the item in his
pocket."
He wanted to believe Grant's negligence could be accidental, but he didn't trust the
man. "And maybe he wanted to keep it for himself."
Charlie barked, startling them both. The dog had been wandering the area, teasing
some grasshoppers. She trotted up to Shane and sat down. She looked up at the ridge to
the north and a low growl rumbled deep in her throat.
Emma's expression went wary. "What is she barking at?"
Shane didn't like it one bit. He put his hand on the snarling dog's back. "What is it,
girl?"
Charlie whined then stopped her growling long enough to look at him.
Thunder rolled in the canyon and the sun disappeared behind a towering
thunderhead. Lightning split the sky over the mountains, thunder following quickly
behind. He saw Emma flinch as thunder roared over their heads.
She leaned over and started to collect the brown bags and tools. "It's going to pour
and I haven't put anything away."
Scrambling, they hauled equipment into the back of her vehicle. Before they'd made
much progress, rain burst from the clouds and pelted them with large drops. He tossed
his hat through the open window of his truck.
Charlie growled again, pacing as she gazed toward the north ridge. A sick feeling
lodged in Shane's stomach, and his urgency to leave elevated to another level. Danger
seemed to crackle in the air with a spark more lethal than the lightning.
"Emma, come on." She attempted to lift one of the heavy buckets full of soil and he
ran over to her. "What are you doing? Let's get out of here."
"I've got to put this somewhere out of the rain," she said anxiously.
"No, you don't." He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward his truck. "We've got
to leave now."
Concern marred her features. "The tarp isn't down over the pit. It'll ruin the site."
He sighed with exasperation and quickly helped her cover the site with the tarp,
securing the edges with rocks.
He latched onto her arm. "Come on."
"I'm not going with you," she shouted over the wind, which had now increased to
almost a gale. "I've got my car."
"Then hurry," he said, walking fast toward the vehicles.
She trotted to trot to keep up with him. "But—"
"Follow me to the house."
Thunder heralded a fresh downpour of rain. Cold water trickled down his face and
soaked through his clothes. Charlie jumped into the truck when Shane opened the door,
commandeering a good portion of the front seat.
Emma got into her Explorer, cold and miserable. Water dripped from her hair in
rivulets down her back and she shivered with a combination of chill and nervousness.
The idea of losing her job made her anxious, and the idea of being with this man,
possibly alone in his house, gave her a second reason to feel edgy.
Yet something else nagged at her. She sensed Shane's urgency to leave the area had
little to do with wanting to escape the raging storm. Also, Charlie had growled as if
something or someone lingered out of sight. Then again, she supposed the dog could be
afraid of the storm.
She recalled her own subtle feeling from time to time that someone watched her.
Her worries multiplied and when her temples resumed their throbbing, she knew her
stress l
evel elevated way too high. She sucked in a couple of deep breaths and let them
out slowly. She started her SUV and as soon as Shane started out of the area, she
followed. Shoving aside worry, she concentrated on staying close behind Shane's truck.
The rain had turned into a pure frog-strangler and visibility reduced to a minimum.
After a bumpy and slow fifteen-minute ride, they arrived at a cluster of buildings.
Through the driving rain, she could see Shane's one-level log dwelling. Outbuildings
clustered behind the house, including a large blue barn.
He jumped out of his truck, Charlie close behind, and Emma left her vehicle at a
run and dashed with him to a side door. As soon as he opened the door and they
scrambled inside, Charlie shook her body, spraying them with more water.
"Charlie!" Shane glared at his dog. "Stop!"
The dog halted her shimmy immediately, an almost human pout crossing her
doggy features. Charlie walked over to a large, round dog bed in the corner of the room
and sank down. The Labrador shared the room with a huge freezer, a washer and dryer
and sundry utility items such as brooms, brushes and garden tools.
Shane grinned, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. "I guess we'd better get out of
these clothes."
He reached down to yank off his boots, then pulled his T-shirt from the waistband
of jeans and drew it over his head. He used the shirt to wipe moisture off his chest and
arms. Emma stood absolutely still, contemplating for a moment what he had in mind.
Her gaze settled on that wide, tanned expanse of masculinity, and she couldn't look
away. She'd noted how muscular he was, but nothing compared to seeing him half
naked. Dark hair sprinkled generously over his muscled pectorals, tapered down his
six-pack stomach and disappeared into his jeans. To say he took physical conditioning
seriously was an understatement. She noted a long scar across his right side under his
ribs and wondered what mishap had created it.
"Don't worry. I don't plan to strip naked in front of you." He slanted a quick glance
in her direction. "Unless, of course, you want me to."
She was speechless. Low in her stomach that sensual burn ignited again. God,
would she ever stop responding to him like this? How could she get control? The man
would drive her crazy yet, with his combination of rugged looks and sensual innuendo.
"What? In front of the dog?" she asked with a slight smile as she reached down and
removed her soggy hiking boots and socks.
He cocked an eyebrow and looked at Charlie, who gazed back at him with soft
brown eyes. "I don't think she'd be jealous. Would you, girl?"
Charlie's ears perked up.
"See," he said. "She likes the idea."
Emma barely held back a snort of laughter. She felt like she'd landed on a carnival
ride that had careened off track. It couldn't be a smart idea to be alone with this man.
Although she found the playful banter a nice contrast to their more regular snipes, she
didn't want to become too comfortable.
"We need to talk about the future of the excavation now that you've had this fight
with Grant," she said.
He shrugged. "What's there to talk about? You have less than a week. If Wilder isn't
going to get off his ass and quicken the pace, I'm helping you."
Dumbfounded, she stared into his cool eyes. "You have to be kidding me? I said
you could observe, not help."
"Do I look like I'm kidding?"
"You're not a qualified archaeologist."
"I know just enough about archaeology to realize that professionals often use
amateur help. As long as I'm under your supervision, there isn't a problem."
She couldn't deny the truth. Archaeologists did sometimes use amateurs to assist
them on big surveys and digs.
Pissed, she planted her hands on her hips. Her throat tightened. God save her from
arrogant, stupid men like Grant and Shane. She stepped forward until she stood close to
him, her ire rising to the surface steadily. "Why didn't you say something while I was
showing you the excavation? How could you spring this on me now?"
He shrugged. When he crossed his arms, his biceps bulged. Emma's gaze snagged
on them, and more anger surfaced inside her as she realized his anatomy managed to
sidetrack her thoughts.
"I can't discuss it," he said. "That's just the way it is."
"You don't honestly expect me to leave it at that, do you?"
"Yeah, I do."
Seething, she refused to back down. "Why can't you tell me what's going on?"
For several seconds he stared at her, frowning deeply. "Can we talk about this after
we've had a shower? I'm freezing, and from the way you're shivering, I'd say you were
too."
A vision of them together in a shower, her hands lathering soap all over him,
popped into her mind. "I'm not showering with you."
He grinned. "I didn't mean we'd shower together, but—"
"Oh, please." Heat flooded her cheeks. "I'm pissed as hell at you, and you've got
the balls to think I'd take a shower with you? Are you insane?"
His grin widened and he took a step toward her. "Maybe. And now that you
mention it—"
She stepped back. "Never mind. Point me in the direction of the towels. I'll be fine."
"Follow me." As they went through the kitchen, she glanced at the huge room and
the room. It could easily seat eight people plus, and the gnarled wood chairs looked
heavy and well worn. The brushed stainless steel appliances looked new and the light
oak cabinets were rustic. They crossed into the living room, an immense, high-ceilinged
area with exposed beams. She got a quick look at the enormous, low rock fireplace, cozy
brown leather sofas, wing back chairs, a wagon wheel chandelier and braided rugs on
the hardwood floor.
She liked the Old West look and feel and realized that it suited Shane's personality.
Unrepentantly masculine and bold.
"I'll use the shower in the guest bathroom," he said as he led her down a hall and
past a couple of bedrooms. "You can use my shower."
Use his shower. It sounded intimate. Intriguing.
When they entered his bedroom, the familiarity factor rose. A king-size bed
swallowed up a lot of the room, as did a huge dresser and a bookcase. He opened the
connecting bathroom door and she stopped cold in her tracks. She had expected to see a
utilitarian room, the type of no-nonsense bathroom you'd see in a rough setting.
To her surprise, the room contained a colossal marble shower and a whirlpool tub
easily big enough for two.
A quick vision of her and Shane in the big bathtub flashed into her mind.
Lord, Emma. You are losing your mind. A tiny panic welled inside her.
"Take a shower and get warmed up," he said. "Or if you like, you can soak in the
tub. It'll take away the sore muscles."
She spoke to quell her trepidation. "I never would have expected a bathroom like
this. I mean a huge tub and shower."
He grinned again, but this time his expression screamed predatory male. "I know
this tub doesn't really fit with the rest of the house. But it was my fantasy, so I indulged
it."
Fantasy. Yep. This room indulged her
fantasies too. Unfortunately.
He'd grabbed two fluffy towels on the way to his room and he handed them to her.
As she reached for the towels, her gaze centered on his chest, heightening her
awareness of him as irrefutably masculine. She snatched the towels out of his hand and
closed the bathroom door. She leaned back against the door and took several deep
breaths to quell the way her stomach jumped nervously and her heart pumped madly.
She thought she heard him chuckle, and then the bedroom door closed.
Stripping away her soaked clothes, she hung them over the lip of the big tub. This
morning she'd never have guessed she'd be in Shane's house, let alone bathing here.
But then she hadn't expected Grant's crazy behavior, nor had she foreseen concern and
passion from Shane.
She jumped into the shower quickly to warm up. While she allowed the water to
massage the front of her body, the sting of water against her breasts reminded her of his
fingers plucking her nipple. In response, both her nipples tightened against the touch of
water and the imaginary massage of his fingers. Her pussy clenched tightly as she
yearned for him to touch her and put her out of sexual misery. Disturbed by her
inability to stop thinking of him in terms of sex, she shut off the water and left the
shower.
She'd contemplated her circumstances for well over fifteen minutes when a knock
sounded on the door. She jumped and dropped her towel on the floor.
"Emma?"
She grabbed the towel and wrapped it securely around her body. "Yes?"
"I've got a proposition for you."
"I'm afraid to ask."
"If you'll pass me your wet clothes I can put them in the dryer. I'll pass you a robe."
She half-wished he'd made her another proposition. Like coming into the bathroom
and sharing that sinful tub with her. She bit her lip and closed her eyes in exasperation.
She had to get a grip on these erotic thoughts. Making sure the towel stayed secure
around her, she retrieved her damp clothes then padded over to the door and opened it.
Dressed in a dry pair of jeans and a green T-shirt, he appeared refreshed. Locks of his
hair were still damp, and the usual disarray made her wish she could finger-comb them
into place for about the millionth time. Again, she resisted the urge.