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That effectively knocked the smile off his lips, but instead of the angry retort she’d expected, she saw his eyebrows lift with marked curiosity. “I’m not arrogant, Professor. I’m simply flagrantly dedicated to my research and cognizant of my considerable talent.”
Obnoxious, she told herself. Except that it happened to be true. “Aren’t you the man who said you were the most impressive voice in ocean research today?”
His mouth twitched again. Why in hell, she wondered, couldn’t she manage to keep her gaze from the firm contours of that mouth? “I might have,” he conceded.
“You did. I saw the interview.”
“You’ve been watching my interviews? Should I be flattered?”
“Ha. You’ve been on every major network for the last few weeks. I’d have to hide in a cave to have missed the sight of you. It seems the whole world is fascinated by the pirate archeologist from the Underwater Archeology Unit.”
He sprang his trap by laughing. The sound did funny things to her insides. It was a low, mellow kind of laugh. The kind that said it was used often and well. The kind that ensnared every nerve ending in her body in a web of awareness.
Awareness, she had learned, that was not to be trusted. He’d make her want things if she wasn’t careful. He was danger—in huge capital letters. If she had an ounce of intelligence left in her brain, she’d throw him out on the street and make sure he stayed there.
But he tricked her with that laugh. It took the edge off his presence—made him approachable. And likable. Just what she needed—to like the man. She reminded herself that she found his ego insufferable and his love of public spectacle unbelievably annoying.
Amusement danced in his eye. “The match is yours, Professor,” he conceded as he leaned forward. His faint scent of fresh air, sea salt and testosterone tickled her nose. “I can see why Jerry is so enchanted with you.”
She didn’t take the bait. “You are not getting unrestricted access to my house. I’ve got a life to run.”
“That house is more than just your private property.” As if his energy for the project physically drove him, he levered himself out of his seat and began pacing her office. “Don’t you see? There’s no doubt in my mind that if I can find the rest of Abigail Conrad’s diaries, I’ll have a vital clue to the location of del Flores’s ship.”
“There may not be any more,” Cora pointed out.
He slanted her a telling look. “Didn’t you say there are gaps of several months between the volumes you found?” She didn’t respond. “Has it been your experience,” he pressed, “that journal writers allow months to pass between writings?”
Cora had no answer so she shrugged.
“I’m this close—” his thumb and index finger measured the inch “—are you really going to deny me?”
The sight of him in passionate discourse twisted her stomach. Forcibly she dismissed the thought. Nothing good would come of picturing him in passionate anything. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Dr. Adriano,” she said softly, “but my answer is still no.”
His face registered his frustration. He planted his hands on her desk and loomed over her. The sunlight glinted off the tiny hoop in his left ear, and in that moment he looked truly barbarous. Cora tested the description, then rejected it. No, not barbarous. Glorious, perhaps. Her gaze dropped to his long-fingered, bronzed hands. Large. He had large, beautiful hands. Damn him.
“I’m not giving up so easily,” he warned her. “You should know that.”
She looked at his face. A mistake, that. He was too close, his hard-angled features at eye level with hers and mere inches away. She clenched the edge of her chair and hoped he wouldn’t notice. “I’ll consider myself warned. But whatever Jerry told you, I seriously doubt you can change my mind. I have to consider—”
She broke off when the door of her office slammed open. Leslie, Cora’s baby-sitter of less than six hours, rushed into the office with a harried look in her eyes. Cora abruptly stood, filled with the oddest sensation that she’d been discovered and compromised. “Leslie—” she started.
Leslie frantically shook her head. “I’m sorry, Dr. Prescott. I can’t. I thought I could take it, but I can’t.” Without sparing Rafael a glance, she dropped a wad of keys on Cora’s desk. “I just can’t take care of them for you.”
Cora held out a beseeching hand. “Leslie, I’m sure if we—”
A loud crash sounded from the outer office. High-pitched voices mingled with the distinct sound of a barking dog. “I can’t do it. I’m sorry. I quit.” The girl fled the room.
Rafael stepped back a scant second before Melody, Cora’s large but exuberant collie, vaulted into the room and onto her desk.
“Melody,” she chided. “Get down.”
“Aunt Cora, Aunt Cora. Don’t let her get away.” Kaitlin rushed into the room holding a leash. “We chased her all the way from the parking lot.”
“Kaitlin,” Cora looked at the nine-year-old as she struggled to get the dog off the desk. “What happened? What are you doing here?”
Before the glowering Kaitlin could answer, Jerry Heath ushered six-year-old Molly and four-year-old Liza into the room. Each had liberal splashes of black ink staining their hair, faces and clothes. “They’re destroying the copy machine,” Jerry announced. “That’s what they’re doing.”
Melody barked in affirmation. With a frustrated oath, Cora pulled on the dog’s collar. “Down, Melody. Get down.”
She wouldn’t budge. Rafael chuckled, then held out his hand to the dog. He whispered a few words, and Melody obediently leaped to the floor where she flopped at his feet. Cora gave him a disgruntled look. “How did you do that?”
“I’ve had a lot of experience with temperamental females,” he said, and sat back in his chair. Melody thumped her tail on the floor.
Exasperated, Cora rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. She’d been right the first time. He was obnoxious. “Jerry,” she said, “what’s going on?”
Jerry guided the two girls toward Cora’s desk. “As far as I can tell, your nieces decided to help Becky make some copies. Somehow that led to an investigation of the toner cartridge.”
Cora’s nieces were high-energy kids. Since their arrival three weeks ago, they’d run off six different baby-sitters.
While Cora visibly searched for her patience, Rafael studied her tense expression.
Jerry had mentioned the nieces. At the time Rafael had brushed off his less-than-complimentary description as typical of Jerry’s intolerance of childhood antics. Watching the three girls in action, however, Rafael decided that Jerry had underestimated them—just as he’d underestimated Cora. Her nieces had evidently mastered the tag-team approach in dealing with their aunt. Soon they’d have her surrounded. It was beginning to look as if he’d arrived just in time.
The oldest girl, the one Cora had called Kaitlin, immediately staked a position against Jerry’s accusations. “That’s not what happened, Aunt Cora. It was Leslie’s fault.”
Cora looked at the next-oldest girl. “Molly, how did you get into the toner?”
Molly pointed at the dog. “We were chasing Melody.”
Cora waited. When no additional explanation was forthcoming, she pressed harder. “Why are you all even here? I thought Leslie was taking you to the park today.”
Liza spoke up. “We has gonned to the park, but I forgot Benedict Bunny. I wanted to go back and get him.”
“And Leslie wouldn’t turn around,” Molly supplied.
“Liza kept begging,” Kaitlin added.
Liza nodded, her eyes wide. “I didn’t want to leave him at home.”
Kaitlin picked up the thread of the story. “Leslie kept telling Liza to quit crying and she wouldn’t.”
“I want Benedict Bunny,” Liza insisted.
Kaitlin continued, “Leslie got really mad. So she whipped the car around and came here.”
“Yeah,” Molly said. “She let Melody out of the car before us. When Melody took off running, we had to chase her.”
Kaitlin added, “She almost plowed Becky down in the hall. Liza—” she swatted her younger sister with the back of her hand “—was trying to catch up.”
“Becky was changing the cartridge,” Molly supplied.
Liza, whose face probably looked angelic when it wasn’t covered in black ink, nodded adamantly. “I tried to catch it when it fell.”
Rafael had to suppress a laugh. Standard operating procedure, he supposed. They’d blame it on the baby. She was less likely to get eaten. If Liza survived, then they knew they were in the clear.
Cora’s gaze swung to Jerry once more. “Did you see what happened?”
“No. I heard the noise.”
“Is there any damage other than the mess?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Fine.” She glared at Kaitlin. “Take your sisters and go find Becky. Help her clean up all the ink.”
“It wasn’t our fault,” Kaitlin argued.
“We’ll talk about it later, Kaitlin.”
“But—”
“Now,” Cora said.
Kaitlin paused, her expression belligerent. She studied Cora’s face for long seconds, then finally relented. “Fine.” She wrapped Melody’s leash around her hand. “Are you mad ’cause Leslie quit? Because she wasn’t very good. I didn’t like her.”
“Me, neither,” Molly said.
“Me, neither,” Liza added.
Cora sighed. “I don’t know if I’m mad or not. It depends on why she quit. Probably.”
Rafael winced. Indecision. Never show children indecision. She’d just lost another major battle on the playing field of child discipline.
The three girls filed out of the room with Melody in tow. Cora pressed three fingers to her forehead in frustration. “Sorry, Jerry,” she muttered.
“You’ve got to do something about them, Cora. They’re out of control.”
“It was an accident.”
“Just like the water cooler last week?” When Cora didn’t respond, Jerry met Rafael’s gaze across the small room. “I didn’t know you’d arrived,” he said.
Rafael frowned. Trust Jerry to make it sound as if he’d conspired against Cora. “I just got here.”
“Really?” The other man leaned casually against the door frame. “I’m surprised you didn’t come by my office.”
“I had other things on my mind.”
Jerry’s gaze shifted to Cora. “So I see. Cora, I see you’ve met Dr. Adriano. I won’t bother with introductions.”
Cora slowly lowered herself back into her chair. “No, Jerry, you needn’t bother.” Her voice held all the warmth of the Arctic Ocean.
Rafael sensed the wisdom of a strategic withdrawal. He’d given Cora something to think about. Later he’d press his point. He pushed himself off her desk, then extended his hand to Jerry. “It’s good to see you again, Jerry. Dr. Prescott and I were just finishing.”
“Oh?” Jerry’s hand was clammy. He gave Rafael a quick handshake, but didn’t take his eyes off Cora. “Any decisions?”
“No,” Cora said, and did not elaborate.
Rafael followed her lead. “We have a lot to talk about. I didn’t expect an answer today.”
“Cora—” strained patience laced Jerry’s voice “—I’m sure you realize that Dr. Adriano could be an important asset to Rawlings.”
“I don’t live in a cave, Jerry.”
“I realize that. But I was afraid you’d be stubborn about this. Since the diaries—”
“My tenure contract with the college,” she said through gritted teeth, “gives me the right to decide the parameters of my research of any historical documents I choose to pursue.”
Jerry slid his hands into his vest pockets. “Adriano’s in a position to bring us a lot of good publicity. I don’t think Willers would be very impressed if you refused to give Adriano a fair chance to state his case.”
Bastard, Rafael thought. Jerry had played his ace. Henry Willers, president of the college, was a notorious media hound. Rafael had deliberately kept his correspondence with Cora confidential, knowing that Willers would pressure her to accede. He wanted her cooperation, but not grudgingly. Cora’s hands gripped the edge of her desk. “Jerry—”
“Just something to think about,” Jerry said amiably.
Cora held Jerry’s gaze with barely concealed hostility. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
“If you want my opinion, with your tenure hearing coming up, this is the kind of thing you should pay attention to.”
Rafael had to look away to hide his disgust. He couldn’t wait until he got the man alone. What Jerry needed, evidently, was a lesson in academic humility. He could see the anger in Cora’s eyes when she addressed Jerry. “Duly noted.”
Rafael stood, determined to fend off a full-blown confrontation. “I appreciate your time,” he told Cora. “We can finish later?”
She finally tore her gaze from Jerry. “Fine. Now if the two of you will excuse me, I’d like to check on my nieces.” She breezed past them and let the door of her office slam behind her.
Chapter Two
It’s her fire I find irresistible. After so many nights with naught but the cold sea for company, I find such rapturous warmth in her arms. She may consume me, but what a blissful demise!
Juan Rodriguez del Flores
Captain’s Log, 9 December 1860
Jerry Heath, Rafael decided, was an idiot.
The man had deliberately allowed him to believe that Cora Prescott was some prudish college professor he could simply bowl over with a good dose of charm. Rafael had suspected from Jerry’s poorly veiled hostility that he found Cora threatening. Now that he’d met her, he knew exactly why. Cora was twice the researcher and a hundred times the person Jerry Heath would ever be.
“Well,” Jerry said, seating himself in Cora’s recently vacated chair, “what do you think now that you’ve met the inimitable Cora Prescott?”
Good question, Rafael thought as he quickly reconciled his impressions of her with his previous expectations. There was a wealth of treasure to find beneath her facade, of that he was sure. But something—or someone—had put that distrustful, slightly wounded look in her eyes. For a man who’d spent a lifetime carefully unearthing priceless antiquities, the challenge of discovering Cora’s secret was irresistible. He glared at Jerry. “You set me up, Jerry.”
