She paused, as if thinking through her options, but when Comb-over coughed in annoyance, she gave a small nod.
“Good.” He didn’t hide the smile in his voice. “Then kiss me and make it look good.”
She hesitated a split second.
Comb-over coughed again and shuffled forward as if sensing something wasn’t right. “Dr. Maxwell—”
Hesitation forgotten, she quickly eased closer to Rafe, tipped her head up and rose on her toes to fit her mouth to his.
Rafe’s senses went into high gear when her lips brushed his. Soft and silky. And gone way too fast.
She dropped to her feet and eased out of his arms, but her eyes stayed locked on his. “You’re late.”
A smile curled his mouth. Quick on her feet. He liked that. And damn if those eyes weren’t the most amazing
color he’d ever seen. Like emeralds polished to a high gleam.
“I arrived as soon as I could. Are you ready?”
She sent him a measuring gaze, her eyes sweeping from his tortoiseshell glasses down to the suit and tie, hovering on the soft-sided briefcase at his feet. With raised brow, she looked up, a sign of obvious interest, and his blood pulsed. Oh yeah, the accent had definitely pushed her over the edge.
Point in your favor, Sullivan.
“I think I am.”
She turned back to Comb-over, standing with wide eyes and open mouth. It was all she could do not to smile, and the knowledge tickled a nerve in Rafe’s stomach. “Mr. Menlo, thank you for your generous offer. As you can see, I already have plans. However, if there’s anything regarding the lecture you’d like to discuss in more detail, you’re certainly welcome to contact my research assistant at the university. I’ll be sure to get back to you when I return to San Francisco.”
He mumbled something Rafe couldn’t hear.
Her assistant walked across the stage. “I’ll gather the rest of your things and have them sent back to the hotel, Dr. Maxwell.”
“Thanks, Greta.”
Dr. Maxwell’s gaze followed Comb-over as he made his way down the stairs and disappeared up the aisle. When he was out of earshot, she looked back at Rafe. “‘Thank you’ doesn’t quite seem good enough.” She held out her hand. “Lisa Maxwell.”
He brought her delicate fingers to his lips. No rings. No tan lines from missing jewelry. “Helping a damsel in distress is a gentleman’s duty. And the pleasure was all mine, Dr. Maxwell.”
Her expression said
You’re full of shit
, but the slightest blush crept across her cheeks as his lips skimmed her fingers. She pulled her hand back when he lowered it. “It’s Lisa.”
He couldn’t help but smile. This was going to be so much easier than he’d planned. Regardless of profession, women were way too predictable.
“Rafael Garcia. You looked like you needed a quick out there.”
She leaned a hip against the table. “Some men just don’t know how to take a hint.”
She definitely wasn’t sending him the same one. Her gaze traveled the length of his body again before landing on his eyes, and from the interest flaring in those shining emeralds, she obviously liked what she saw. “Did you attend the lecture, Mr. Garcia?”
“Rafe. Yes, I did. I found it quite interesting. I’m a history professor at the University of Barcelona, and I have a personal interest in Ancient Greece. Your grasp of the Greek influence on Persia was right on.”
She grinned and eased away from the table, lifting her purse and slipping the strap over her shoulder. “Well, now. That’s a relief. I was worried for a moment.”
He didn’t miss the sarcasm. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to imply you’re green.”
She ran fingers through her short red hair. “I’m used to it. An American woman lecturing about archaeology in Europe is often discredited as not having a clue what she’s talking about.”
“Tough profession to be in.”
“You have no idea.” She extended her hand. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Garcia. And thank you for coming to my rescue.”
He held her silky fingers, not letting her slip away. “You realize that man is probably waiting outside for you. If you leave without me, he will probably try to corner you again.”
She tipped her head. “I’m sure I can handle him. But just out of curiosity, what did you have in mind?”
“How about a drink?”
“So you can pepper me with questions about Ancient Greece and find flaws in my research?”
His lips curled. He had something a little more enjoyable in mind. “No, so I can listen to your husky voice and stare into those gorgeous eyes for an hour before I have to catch my plane.”
She laughed. “Now that’s the most honest answer I’ve heard all day. You know what? I’m suddenly feeling rather thirsty. You’re on, Mr. Garcia.”
That accent was going to do her in.
Lisa lifted her wineglass and glanced over the rim at the man seated across from her. She’d always been a sucker for an accent.
It didn’t hurt he was sexy as hell—an Antonio Banderas lookalike within her grasp. Dark, slicked-back hair with a touch of wave, piercing black eyes, golden skin and the cutest ass she’d ever seen in a pair of slacks. She’d almost asked him to walk ahead of her as they’d strolled through the streets of Milan, just so she could take in the view.
Rafael Garcia sure didn’t look like a boring history professor, but judging from facts he was rattling off about Greek mythology, he knew his stuff. If she were being honest, she’d have to admit she really didn’t care what he was rambling about; she’d been focused solely on the sound of his voice for the last half hour. Forget the Greeks. She could spend a whole day getting lost in that sultry Spanish accent.
Kissing him had been an impulse. She could easily have sidestepped the boring Professor Menlo from En gland, but she’d been intrigued by Rafe’s boldness. Not just that, but also by his spicy scent and that solid chest suddenly pressed against her. Lord, she was a piece of work. The sad truth was, she’d been buried in research too long, focused on the Furies way more than she should be. She’d neglected her personal life to the point where it was almost nonexistent.
Drinks in the hotel bar had turned into dinner, and if he kept looking at her with that roving gaze, she had a hunch
it was going to turn into a helluva lot more. She had a nine
A.M.
flight she really didn’t want to miss, two hours’ worth of paperwork, a dozen calls to return, and a hotel suite to pack. But at the moment, she didn’t have any desire to get up and leave the table. Part of her figured she deserved a bit of relaxation after the last few crazy weeks. And there was something about
this
man that made her lose all sense of rational thought.
“So tell me of some of your excursions.” He lifted a spoonful of tiramisu and brought the tempting treat to his lips.
Her gaze followed, and she remembered that full mouth pressed up against hers. Heat shot straight to her belly.
She’d had enough business chitchat to last her a lifetime, and right now she was afraid she just might give in to temptation and crawl across the table to lick the frothy cream from his mouth if he didn’t do it soon himself. “Do you really want to hear about dark caves and subpar living conditions?”
He wiped his mouth with the napkin. “I thought searching for buried treasure was romantic.”
She couldn’t stop her smile. He’d been teasing her all night, his dry sense of humor enticing her almost as much as his muscular body. “It’s dirty work. And there is no such thing as buried treasure.”
“Well, now. That’s a surprise. I didn’t expect you to be a pessimist, Dr. Maxwell.”
“No, I’m a realist. There’s a big difference.”
He leaned forward, waving a spoonful of the sinful concoction in front of her. “Why don’t you tell me just how dirty it can be?”
She hesitated, then opened her mouth and slowly used her tongue to lap the chocolate cream he’d smeared on her bottom lip. His gaze followed the movement. Her blood warmed at the heat she saw in his eyes. His foot brushed hers under the table, sending a tingle up her leg at the brief contact.
Oh, man. The wine was doing a number on her system. Or maybe it was the candlelight, or that alluring smile of
his. She wasn’t sure which. At the moment though, she didn’t care. She had an overwhelming need to feel that hard body pressed up against hers again. While wild, unexpected flings had never been big on her list, the thought of one now wasn’t making her cringe. Unfortunately, some small part of her was still sane enough to know he was a distraction she couldn’t afford. Not right now.
“You missed your plane,” she said, changing the subject.
“There’ll be another.” He grinned. “Sometime.”
The waiter interrupted them. Happy for the distraction, Lisa sat back, wiped her lips with her napkin and listened as Rafe responded in fluent Italian. The waiter nodded, set the bill on the table and walked away.
Lisa reached for the leather folder. Rafe’s hand covered hers before she could lift it. Electricity ran over her skin. “Please. Let me.”
“That’s nice of you, but you don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. To thank you for the most enjoyable meal I’ve had in a very long time.”
His dark eyes were filled with desire and boring a hole right into her soul, chipping away at what was left of her resolve. Her stomach quivered under his intense gaze as she contemplated her choices. The promise of passion was as plain as the tiny scar on his chin.
Eyes locked on his, she let go. Before she could change her mind, she rose and slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder while he paid the bill. When he stood, she ran a hand down his arm and smiled. “Since you already missed your flight, how about a nightcap?”
His lips quirked up, white teeth flashing against tanned skin. “I think that sounds like a delicious idea.”
She felt tiny tremors of heat trickle between her legs. And knew she wasn’t getting any packing done to night.
This wasn’t going the way he’d planned.
He should have slipped the Mickey into her wine at dinner. He should already have been in and out of her room.
And he should
definitely
be on a plane headed east right this very minute.
Instead, Rafe had enjoyed dinner more than he’d anticipated. Dr. Maxwell was quick on her feet, intelligent, and surprisingly, a lot of fun to be around. The more time he spent in the curvy doctor’s company, the longer he wanted to drag out his little charade.
Standing in the elevator next to her, smelling her racy perfume and listening to her raspy voice, his libido went into overdrive. Just how much of a bastard would he be if he let her wrap those shapely legs around his waist and screw him senseless
before
he got down to business? After all, the woman was sending him every I-wanna-get-fucked sign in the book.
If she kept it up, that’s just what she was going to get. That and a whole lot more.
The elevator pinged, the door opened and she stepped onto the twelfth floor. Swallowing his thoughts, Rafe followed her toward the suite at the end of the hall.
She slipped the key card into the slot and waited for the light to turn green. When it did, she smiled and pushed the door open with her shoulder. “I miss old-fashioned keys.”
So did he.
He followed her into the suite, hating that he had any sort of conscience where she was concerned. Guilt had never been a problem for him, but then he’d never been attracted to his target before.
She dropped the key and her purse on the rectangular table in the entry. Obviously, no one had taught Dr. Maxwell to be cautious.
Another plus in his favor.
Her heels clicked across the marble floor as she crossed to the bar on the other side of the living area. Tall windows looked out at a view of Duomo Square and the twinkling lights of a sleepy city.
He set his briefcase on the floor next to the white curved
sofa and watched as she bent to retrieve a bottle of wine from the mahogany sideboard. Muscles flexed in her calves, her ass rounded out beneath the smooth black fabric of her skirt. Arousal seared through him, hot and urgent, as he took in every scrumptious inch of her.
She rose, grabbed two wineglasses from the top of the bar, turned and brought them to the table near the window. “Would you open this?”
He’d like to open a whole lot more. “Sure.”
A smile curled one side of her mouth as he stepped forward, and he felt that wicked flare in his gut again as he got closer. She licked her lips and let out a victorious sigh before taking a step out of his reach.
Her hands slid down to the buttons of her black jacket. She popped the first, trailed her fingers to the next and popped that one as well, revealing a cream-colored camisole with lace trim that teased her rounded cleavage. “While you do that, I’m just going to run to the other room. I’ll be right back.”
She disappeared down the narrow hall before he could stop her.
Alone, Rafe blew out a breath and rubbed both hands over his face. Not good. Ten seconds ago he’d totally forgotten why he was here. If she hadn’t taken a step back, they’d be rolling across the floor right now. One lusty look from her and he was ready to toss the whole assignment away? He never lost sight of the goal.
Shaking his head at his stupidity, he uncorked the wine and poured ruby red liquid into two glasses. He pulled the vial from his jacket pocket and tapped the white powder into one glass before he could change his mind, then used his finger to stir it around. Casting a quick glance toward the bedroom and not seeing her, he lifted the bottle and took a long swallow.
Son of a bitch, get it under control, Sullivan.
After replacing the vial, he removed his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair while rolling his shoulders
and mentally running through the schematics of the suite. He’d studied this hotel inside out over the past week to make sure everything flowed smoothly.
And it would. As long as he kept his pants zipped and his hands to himself.
“That feels so much better.”
He glanced up at the sound of her husky voice. Gone were the black jacket and ice-pick heels. Barefoot and wearing only the slim black skirt and tight-fitting camisole that accentuated her curvy figure, she walked back toward him. Arousal punched through his gut again, shutting down his brain in the process.