Catch Me If You Can (9 page)

“Sharks?” she asked, thinking it might be some kind of surfer thing. Praying.

He looked confused for a brief moment, then his smile widened as he realized the direction of her gaze. “Crocodile. This was made for me about five years ago, as a good-luck charm, at the request of a tribal shaman. It’s supposed to ward off those with evil intent. Considering it kept me from being an appetizer later that evening, I figured he might be on to something."

She didn’t quite know what to say to that. Had it come from just about anyone else, she’d have thought they were having a go with her. Something in the easy, comfortable way he related the story, yet so directly
hol
ding her gaze at the same tim
e, had her believing he spoke the truth. “I don’t suppose I’d take it off either, then,” she finally managed, unable to pull her gaze away from it. Or him.

“It was actually woven around my neck as I sat there. By six of the tribe’s prettiest women. All the chiefs daughters.” He grinned. “Virgins of course.”

“Of course,” she echoed, still trying to wrap her mind around his fantastical story.

“I wasn’t quite sure of their intent at the time,” he went on, quite casually. “I thought they were going to chain me to a leash or do something else with it. The whole process took hours.”

“
That would explain the fit.” She could understand his trepidation. It was like a collar of sorts. And given as she had absolutely no taste for kink with her sex, that didn’t remotely explain why she had to fight the urge to squirm. In a good way. Something about the way it served to make his neck look thicker, stronger. Daft, she was, of course, but she couldn’t shake the image of him in some kind of tribal loincloth, paint streaking his face, as a circle of women bent around him, their slender fingers flying as they wove him into his choker. It made even less sense that the whole visual only served to stimulate her more.

“It’s a long time to spend wondering about your fate,” he said. “Especiall
y given as the hut I was in di
rec
tl
y faced the central fire pit. And they had a big enough one going to roast an ox. Or me.”

“My God,” she said, truly unable to imagine it. Of course, for all she knew, he’d bought the thing in some odd trinket shop. But she had to admit, if he was having a go, he was being awfully convincing about it. Must be the way those light eyes of his gleamed, shining out like twin beacons from his dark face. She caught herself rubbing her arms, and hoped he thought she was merely
warding off a chill. And not nervous. Or trying to scrub away the twitchy tingly effect he was having on her. It was only serving to make that part worse anyway. It felt like her skin was screaming for contact. Preferably with him.

“It wasn’t my best day, that’s for sure.”

“Five years ago,” she said, scrambling to re-establish some kind of normalcy in this conversation. Which had started out pretty unusually earlier, so why this should come as a real surprise, she didn’t know. From the moment her life had flashed in front of her, the whole night had taken on a rather surreal feeling anyway. “And yet you still wear it?”

“I’d have to cut it off. Which, according to tribal legend, would render my soul ripe for the plucking by any number of evil spirits. And trust me, if you’d seen the drawings of those spirits on the inside of their dwellings, you’d be in no hurry to get rid of it either.” He shifted and leaned his weight back against the door, smiling easily. “Occupational hazard, I’d guess you’d say.” Welcome heat was now pumping from the vents and her toes and fingers tingled as they began to thaw.
Might as well join all of the other tingling body parts,
she thought. She’d worried earlier that they might not have enough petrol to see them through until morning, when someone was bound to come across them and hopefully ferry them into town.

Now? She wasn’t so concerned. Somehow, as long as she was in cl
ose proximity to the man presentl
y studying her, body heat was going to be the least of her worries. “So you’re not so much Moondoggie, as Indiana Jones then, I take it”

He barked out a laugh. “Moondoggie?”

She was thankful for the dark, as it hid the blush she felt climb into her cheeks. Some women looked delicately abashed with flushed skin. With her fairness and freckles, she generally managed to look as if she’d just come running from a fire. “I suppose I must confess my addiction to your corny American beach movies. And your less-than-corny adventure flicks.”

“Have you ever been?”

“To the beach? Or cutting a swath through the jungle?”

He shook his head and the shag
gy curls rustl
ed about his head. The abundance of snow outside created its own sort of night glow. But though she could make out his smile, or the gleam of his eyes, she couldn’t make out the details, such as gauging his thoughts or reactions, in anything but a general body language sort of way. It disconcerted her. She was unabashedly curious about the man, but then who wouldn’t be, given the few details he’d shared so far? And yet there was this sense she had about him that he didn’t need any sort of light to be able to detect her thoughts or feelings. It had her feeling a bit edgy.

Well that and the fact that he’d just folded his arms across his chest. Shallow though it may be, the play of muscles in his forearms and the way this new pose showcased just how broad of chest and shoulder the man was again, admittedly affected her. Her mind jumped back to that kiss they’d shared, what seemed like eons ago now. A mere brushing of the lips, but the thought made her body hum all over again.

Her gaze was drawn to his hands, and her thoughts turned to what it would feel like to have them on her. All over her. He’d tucked them next to his body, precluding her from adding more detail to her little fantasy. She wasn’t really that big a sucker for brawn, but she had to admit that a tall man with big hands could get her attention quite readily. Everyone had their own preferences after all.

She realized she was staring, but then, he’d been
studying her, had he not? Of course, it had been more the way a scientist studied a specimen, or so she’d felt, than the lusty notions that were presently filling her apparently empty head. She shifted and settled her weight back against her door, letting her gaze drift in what she hoped was a casual manner, away from him and out the front windshield. Not that she could see anything. Snow had once again coated the glass. But if he’d noticed the direction of her gaze before, much less the direction of her thoughts, he mercifully didn’t let on.

“Have you been to America?” he reiterated, as if there hadn’t been an awkward gap in their conversation. His voice was deep, but there w
as a pure tone to it. No raspi
ness, no huskiness. If he sang, it would probably be a rich, full baritone, with pitch-perfect clarity.

The very idea of hearing that voice in her ear had her rubbing her palms up and down h
er arms again. It took damn littl
e to send that quivery sensation rippling through her. The slightest provocation and she was all twitchy and damp. Just by existing in her personal space, he effortlessly plucked at every nerve ending she had.

And yes, she was aware that maybe this was all just a knee-jerk reaction to, well, everything. All she had to do was decide if that mattered. “No, I’ve never been to the States,” she told him, pleased at her casual tone. “Nor have I surfed, or searched for treasure, for that matter.” She hugged her knees to her and tried to find a comfortable position in the little bucket seat.
Would it be terribly rude of me to move to the backseat,
she wondered? With the stick shift between the seats, stretching out fully up front was going to be difficult at best. He was the larger of the two of them, and he had done the work clearing the space so they could run the heater. She supposed if anyone was due the back bench seat, it was him. Of
course, they could stack themselves up back there, conserve body
heat and be more comfortable…

She debated mentioning that, but for all her forward suggestiveness earlier, she felt oddly reticent to make that first move now. So she tried not to think about it as she shifted around once again. “So,” she asked, thinking it best to keep her mind off the backseat altogether. “What is it you do that brings you into such close contact with cannibals?”

“I’m an anthropologist. Right now I’m working for a museum that is co-sponsoring a dig in conjunction with a university program out of New Mexico. My focus is mostl
y on Mayan history. They currentl
y have digs in Mexico and Central America.”

“Not the most stable place in the world. Sounds dangerous in all sorts of ways.”

“Yes, though we generally have more to fear from the local political and drug factions than we do the aboriginal tribes.”

“So what does an anthropologist do? I mean, I gather the archaeologist’s job is to dig up the actual artifacts, right? What role do you play?”

“My job is to figure out what all the artifacts mean in terms of how that particular civilization worked. Both the layout of the ruins themselves, as well as whatever remains we find, and where we find them, can tell us a lot about how that particular segment of society lived. And died.” He smiled. “You really don’t want to get me started, trust me. I could bore you to tears for hours on end with Mayan history alone.”

She smiled in return. She liked his easy confidence, the warmth of his voi
ce, the ease that seemed to settl
e between them so naturally. He was pretty sexy. For a geeky sort. “It’s not like we have anything else to do for the next eight to ten hours.”

“Oh, we could probably think of something more entertaining.”

He’d said it more casually than suggestively. Not that it mattered. Funny how quickly a spike of sexual tension could reinsert itself into their easy camaraderie. She found herself thinking about that backseat idea all over again. How easy would it be to push things back in the direction they’d been heading outside? She got the feeling he wouldn’t need much encouragement. At the same time, she didn’t sense any overt sort of threat from him either. Despite the tribal teeth circling his neck. Or maybe because of them. What with him worrying about spirits protecting his mortal soul and all.

“You’re rather far afield then, aren’t you?”
she asked him, stalling. A littl
e. It wasn’t like her to be indecisive. But then, it wasn’t exactly like her to plot a one-night stand with a tourist, either. “Or did the Mayans make a trip to the auld sod that I’m unaware of?”

“Actually, you might be surprised how far reaching their influence was. But no, I’m here on an unrelated matter.”

He didn’t elaborate, so she didn’t pry.
Not directl
y anyway. But she wanted to. She tucked her legs closer and propped her chin on her knees.
“
Your first time to Scotland, then?” she asked instead.

“I was on a dig in Wales while I was still in college. But that’s the closest I’ve come.” He shifted a little, then noticing her watching him, said,
“
The sweater is a bit itchy without the undershirt.”

It was on the ti
p of her tongue to suggest
he could take care of that little
problem pretty easily. Somehow she managed to resist. Barely. She tried not to openly admire the play of muscles beneath the dark knit. But it was tough. “A shame you can’t get another shirt,” she said, which was a bald-faced lie. She wanted him in no
shirt, not more clothes. “I guess your luggage is in the boot?”

He nodded. “I’ll be all right. I’m just not used to wearing so many layers.”

Maura had to all but bite off her tongue. Why, she wasn’t sure. She wanted him. She was reason
ably sure, given he hadn’t exactl
y fended off her earlier advances, that he was like-minded. They were both adults. And heaven knew they w
eren’t going anywhere. “A fair-
weather sort, are you?”

“I
wouldn’t say there’s anything fair about the weather in Chacchoben.” He shrugged. “Still, I guess I prefer swatting mosquitoes to risking frostbite.”

“Understandable, I suppose.”

He cocked his head. “You don’t look too convinced.”

“Let’s just say I don’t mind working up a good sweat, but I’d rather there not be insects involved in the endeavor. Most especially the sort that like to take a piece of you home with them.”

He grinned. “Understandable, I suppose.”

They were both smiling, all convivial and the like, and then the moment shifted, the silence dragged on a wee bit too long. And that finely tun
ed sexual tension that so effortl
essly arced between them, spiked up again.

“I should probably go out and make sure the pipe is staying clear,” he said, but he didn’t so much as hazard a glance out the window. Which were beyond fogged at this point, inside and out.

“
We should crack the windows a bit,” she agreed. “Safety and all that.”

“I meant to do that when I got back in the car. I guess I was a bit sidetracked,” he added, his tone somewhat acerbic.

“I’m so sorry for that, really. I just couldn’
t see and I didn’t think. Honestl
y. Maybe I should get out and check.
After all, you’ve barely begun to thaw out after being out there all that time.” She uncurled her legs and was shifting back around when he leaned forward and touc
hed her arm. She stilled instantl
y, glanced over at him, then down at his hands. A nice, wide hand, with long, strong fingers. It was all she could do not to sigh in catlike contentment. “It’s only fair,” she told him, though that was a joke if she’d ever heard one. Not that it wasn’t he
r turn to go outside, but honestl
y, nothing about life had been fair of late.