Digging Deeper (27 page)

“Yep, it is. Okay, you’re bright and multi-talented, what is it that you’d actually like to do?”

Her gaze rolled around the restaurant and came to rest on the large aquarium. “Marine biologist.” She liked the sound of that.

Beck laughed. “Why do you have so many jobs? I don’t understand why you’re not shattering some glass ceiling with one of your very sexy high heels.”

“I don’t want the responsibility,” Flick lied. “And I get bored really, really quickly and I think that’s enough about my jobs from someone whose career lies in ruins.”

Beck groaned. “To think I’ve never heard that one before.”

“Why did you decide you wanted to spend your life poking around in dead people’s rubbish?” Flick tried to shift the conversation back to him.

“Because I thought archaeologists didn’t need to shave and spent most of their time drinking.”

“Ah, so you drew the short straw with Ilkley.”

“No, I don’t think I did,” Beck said.

Flick smiled. “I need to tell you I don’t like beards.”

Beck coughed.

“No, I really don’t. They scratch. My theory is men grow beards to hide how ugly they are.”

“Flick.” Beck glared.

She grinned. “Never grow a beard. They’re like facial pubic hair, horrible.”

There was a snort from behind her. Beck looked panic stricken and Flick turned, aware of what she’d see—a bearded man. He frowned so hard, his eyebrows looked like two brown worms wriggling across his forehead.

“But I find food gets caught, don’t you?” She smiled and stroked her chin. “I shaved mine off and I’ve never regretted it. Why don’t you try it?”

“Flick!”

She turned back. “He shouldn’t have been listening. His wife will be grateful if he gets rid of it, believe me.”

“You are so weird.”

“Good weird or bad?”

“Good, I think.”

“That’s all right then. So give me the next installment of ‘Famous Five Go For A Dig’. How’s Jane getting on with the others?”

“Better. She and Dina are speaking to each other in a civil way now. Isobel has whipped them all into shape.”

“The woman in the sheet.”

“My post-grad assistant. And no, we’re not and never have been.”

Flick gave a little smile.

“Dina doesn’t seem to be quite so hung up on me. She’s more bothered by the fact that Ross and Matt are no longer biddable servants. They have their tongues permanently out and their gaze fixed to Isobel’s chest.”

“Mmm.”

Flick had been chewing the same king prawn for the last few minutes and she didn’t want to swallow it. Prawns shouldn’t be chewy. She wanted to spit it out but Beck hadn’t taken his eyes off her. Normally she wouldn’t have minded but in a minute he’d wonder why she hadn’t spoken for ages and had nodded and murmured with her mouth closed. She began to wonder what she had in her mouth. A prawn or something else? Part of a finger? Her stomach lurched. Maybe those stories about Chinese restaurants weren’t all apocryphal. What if it was a chicken’s penis? Where had that thought come from? Did a chicken have a penis? Cockerels must have. Now she was going to be sick.

She gave in, glanced over Beck’s shoulder and waved. When Beck turned to look she spat the prawn into her hand.

“Someone you know?” he asked, turning back.

“I thought so but she didn’t wave.”

Flick felt in her pockets for a tissue. Nothing. She could drop the thing on the floor, but the tablecloth didn’t hang very low and he’d see the piece of food when he stood up and think she was a slob. Of course, she could toss it his side, but he’d know he hadn’t dropped it and anyway she’d probably miss and hit him on the leg, then have to use her foot to move it and he’d think—oh God. She could hardly nick the restaurant’s linen napkin, so she pushed the chewed morsel into her coin purse. It didn’t look like a prawn. What the hell was it? She suddenly realized Beck had asked a question and she hadn’t been listening.

“Well, what do you think?” he said.

Flick came up with the one sentence that would make him forget what he’d asked. “Do you want to stay the night?”

His mouth fell open. Oops. She could see him wondering how the hell he’d managed that and was worried by the fact that he looked alarmed rather than keen.

“Relax, I’m not going to drag you into bed,” she said.

“I’m disappointed now.”

She grinned.

“Do you want anything else to eat or shall I get the bill?”

“I’m full.”

Beck took out his wallet.

“We can split it.” Flick tried to sound as though she meant it.

“My treat.” Beck put a five-pound note with his credit card and patted his pockets. “Do you have a couple of pounds? I’d rather leave the tip in cash.”

Flick pulled her coin purse from her pocket and as she opened it the well-chewed body part masquerading as a king prawn flew out and landed right in front of Beck.

“What on earth is that?” he asked.

“It’s…it’s my lucky appendix.”

She watched in horror as Beck speared it with his fork and sniffed it.

“It smells of prawn,” he said.

“Why do you think they had to remove it?”

He burst out laughing. Flick pushed it behind the table decoration.

“Don’t you want to take it with you?” he asked.

Flick sighed. “You know, I feel strong enough to say goodbye. You’re a miracle worker.”

Beck drove back to Timble as though he was taking his driving test. He didn’t dash through any changing traffic lights, he didn’t exceed the speed limits even in the sections between the speed cameras and he never took his eyes off the road. There was an erotic distraction sitting next to him he was trying not to think about. Flick had stretched out on the seat, slid her hand onto the back of his neck and was pulling his hair through her fingers. Beck moved his cheek against her hand, thought how soft it was and then jerked his head upright.

Concentrate. Road. Flick. Car. Drive. Flick.

He trembled as she ran one finger under the collar of his shirt and around to the front of his neck. His Adam’s apple moved up and down under her thumb.

“How are you feeling?” Flick asked.

“I think you know.” His erection strained against his zip. He needed to make himself more comfortable, but he didn’t dare take his hands from the wheel. When he felt her fingers tickle his knee, a flaming arrow hit his groin and he groaned.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Beck knew his voice sounded strangled.

Her hand slid higher.

“Flick, stop teasing me or…”

“Or what?”

“You’ll be sorry.” How lame could he be?

“I want to kiss you,” she said, “and I can’t wait.”

Beck wasn’t sure he could wait either but the well-illuminated A65 was not the best place to be dealing with an attack of uncontrollable passion.

“Something is going to happen if we wait,” she said. “Maybe there’ll be an invasion and we’ll find ourselves facing a line of tanks or a plane will crash in front of us. Ooh, or an impenetrable evil fog will appear out of nowhere, and creatures will materialize and drag us in different directions.”

Beck gulped. “Now you’re frightening me.”

“So no, we can’t wait. Turn right here.”

He flipped his indicator.

“Straight over this junction and keep going.”

“Flick, please take your hand off my thigh,” Beck asked in a choked voice.

“Sorry. Next left. Up the hill. At the junction turn right.”

“Could you repeat that?” he mumbled, having forgotten everything after the word “sorry”.

Flick went through it again.

“How much further?” Beck asked. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he’d asked that five times. He expected his dad to give him a clip around the ear any second.

They travelled along a dark country lane somewhere between Guiseley and Otley.

“Three hundred yards, then left,” Flick instructed. “It’s a dead end. Don’t go too far or you end up in the sea. Okay, stop here.”

Beck switched off the engine. “I feel I ought to point out we’re a couple of hours away from the sea.”

“Oh no, we’re lost,” Flick wailed and then cut it off. “Never mind.”

She unfastened her seat belt, leaned over, took hold of his head and pressed her lips against his. Beck felt her tongue pushing its way into his mouth and for a moment he let her do all the work, reveling in being the one consumed before he started to kiss her back. She tasted so sweet. Her tongue was driving him crazy. His heart pounded. He wanted her so much he was in physical pain and the handbrake digging into his thigh wasn’t helping.

Flick pulled away and moved back onto her seat. “Thank God.”

“For what?” Beck stroked her cheek with his fingers.

“You kiss like you mean it.”

“I do mean it. Only now I want more.”

Flick glanced over her shoulder at the two rows of seats in the van. “How athletic are you?”

Beck doubted two broken legs could have stopped him. He scrambled over his seat onto the one behind.

“Not bad,” Flick said and in one fluid movement slid backward to join him.

“My ideal woman. Witty and agile.”

“I thought we only needed a pulse?”

“You have a pulse as well?” His lips moved to Flick’s and he eased her back so she lay on the seat. He had one knee beside her and the other on the floor on top of something sharp and he didn’t care. The kiss was deep and went on for so long they ran out of air and broke off gasping.

Beck lifted the bottom of her sweater—his sweater—and peeled it over her head, tossing it further back in the van. He continued to kiss her neck as his fingers fumbled with the buttons on her shirt. Flick’s fingers were busy with the buttons on his.

“I was so jealous of Hannibal,” she said.

“Why?” Beck opened the last button and gave a throaty groan. A red lace bra. He was dead and going to hell.

“Because she got to crawl all over your chest.” Flick lifted her head, pressed her lips against his collarbone and licked her way down to his nipple as he hovered over her.

“She didn’t get to do that,” Beck gasped.

“If you’re wise, you’ll never risk letting her.”

Flick peeled off his shirt and threw it over the seat. “Not just a great mind, but a nice body.” She twirled her fingers over him.

“Only nice? Do you know how long I’ve spent at the gym toning and defining?”

“A month?”

Beck nipped her ear. Then they were kissing again in a tangle of limbs, with no room to move. He wanted her bra off. Now.

“How far are we going to go?” she whispered.

“I wasn’t thinking of driving to the sea.”

Flick bit his nipple gently.

“Ouch, thank goodness you aren’t Hannibal.” He pulled back. “Well, I guess we’re not behaving like sensible adults. We’re crammed in the back of a van with no room to stretch, virtually no room to maneuver.” But even as he spoke he slid his hand inside the front of her pants. She was hot and wet and he was in deep trouble. Beck didn’t care where they were. They could have been standing outside a pub and he would’ve had to do this.

Flick moaned in his ear and Beck trembled. “I wish I could have gone out with you when I was a teenager.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d have spent hours kissing you, trying to get my hand right where it is now. It would have been months of exquisite torture.”

“Are you trying to tell me I’m easy?” Flick asked in indignation, but her eyes were glazed with desire.

“Too late.”

“I didn’t notice you protesting earlier that you could wait. If you’d like months of exquisite torture, that could be arranged.”

“I’m too old to cope with months of torture. I also think I’m too old to be doing this in a van.” And too tall.

Flick pressed her hand against the front of his trousers, stroked his erection and made him groan. Beck moved his mouth to the side of her head and sucked her earlobe. As she squeezed his cock he kissed down her neck.

“Are you?” she whispered.

“Am I what?” Beck’s capacity for logical thought diminished second by second.

“Too old for this?” Flick asked as she unbuttoned and unzipped him. He sighed with relief as his cock straightened out. Her fingers slid inside his boxers and wrapped around him. Beck inhaled as she began to stroke and twist.

“Flick, Flick,” he murmured. “That feels so good.”

He couldn’t have stopped her now if he’d wanted to. Why would he want to? She had her mouth glued to his and her body pressed against his. That red bra. He was lost. His brain had shut down everything except his response to her touch. Her fingers were expertly bringing him to a climax he wouldn’t be able to push back. Nothing was going to stop—

The bang on the window made them both jump. Their heads turned and they stared at a man who stared at them.

“Fuck!” Beck tried to fasten his pants while Flick blocked the view of his body.

“Move your bloody car, you perverts,” the man yelled through the window.

He’d come up in front of them. They hadn’t even noticed his headlights. Beck scrambled over the seat and Flick followed, slipped on her shirt and fastened a couple of buttons. She clipped on her seat belt and fastened Beck’s for him as he reversed down the lane back to the road and pulled up out of the way. The guy roared off down the hill toward Otley.

“I think it was the same man that caught me when I was sixteen.” Flick giggled.

Beck burst out laughing. “You’ll be getting a reputation, Miss Knyfe.”

“I wasn’t the one with my pants down, Professor Beckett,” she reminded him.

“Oh God, I hope he didn’t see the writing on the side of the van.”

“I think he was more interested in what was happening inside it.”

“Now what?” Beck asked as he put away his disappointed cock and zipped himself up.

Flick retrieved his shirt and passed it to him. “Look out for speed cameras on the way home, but get there fast.”

By the time Beck drew up outside the house, his heart pounded and his mouth was dry. Flick took hold of his hand and pulled him up to the door. They’d barely got through it before Beck was unfastening the buttons on her shirt.

“It’s only two flights of stairs,” Flick said.