Look What the Wind Blew In (8 page)

“What’s your plan of attack?”

“What do you mean?” He was tiptoeing here and didn’t want to misread her question and step on a land mine.

“Well, knowing that you were here with Dr. Hughes twenty years ago makes me wonder if this will be some kind of comparison of how he ran the site back then to how I’m running it now. A measurement of his successes versus mine, maybe? Or were you thinking about incorporating my parents and their efforts?”

“No, not a comparison. More along the lines of noting how things have changed—methods of finding artifacts, site geography, ideas on structural architecture. Things like that.” He was winging it, his fingers crossed that it sounded plausible. “I’d only mention your parents in a brief history, if at all. Although your father has some interesting theories that I’d like to talk to him about and consider including.” Before she got her shoulders all hunched about that last line, he added, “In a favorable light only, of course.”

She cocked her head to the side, studying him. “When were you going to tell me the truth about your history here?”

“After I’d found out what you knew about the site. I thought that you might be more open if you didn’t know I’d been here before.”

“Was I?”

It was his turn to scoff. “Hell, no.”

“Good.” Her gaze darted past him, her nostrils flaring. She swore under her breath.

“Am I staying or going, Dr. García?” Quint asked, looking around to see what had her attention.

Steel was coming their way across the plaza.

She focused back on Quint. “My father has faith in you and thinks you could be beneficial to his future. Because of that you can stay.”

“Thank you.” He held out his hand to shake on it. “I appreciate the second chance.”

“No more games.” She looked at his open palm, hesitating, and then clasped his hand. “Trust me when I say that you do not want to get on my bad side.” To his surprise, she pulled him down to her level. When she spoke, her voice was low and sinister. “I may be known for digging up bones in this jungle, but I can bury them here as easily, too.”

Quint blinked in surprise. When he pulled his hand back, he saw the twinkle of amusement in her green eyes. She had a wicked sense of humor. He liked that in a woman. His gaze slid down, stalling on her lips. Firm but lush. He liked them, too.

Steel’s voice sliced through his contemplation of the fun he could have with the witty doctor and those lips of hers. “Angélica, I need to talk to you.” He pushed his expensive sunglasses up on his head, blatantly avoiding looking in Quint’s direction as he drew near. “Darling, couldn’t you find something more appropriate to wear in front of your crew?”

Angélica glanced down at her yellow T-shirt, wiping some dirt and what looked like hairbrush bristles from her chest.

Quint considered offering her his help. He was pretty sure he’d do a more thorough job of removing every single bristle.

“What I wear is none of your business, Jared.” She touched Quint’s forearm, drawing his gaze back northward. “I need to talk to María. Meet me outside the supply tent in ten minutes.”

“Will do.” Quint wanted to grab his camera from his tent and a bottle of water.

With a nod at both of them, she strode off toward the mess tent.

“What about me?” Steel called after her.

She turned, walking backwards a few steps. “You’re not my problem. Dad’s waiting for you in the Sunset Temple.” She spun back around and left Quint alone with Steel, both of them watching her go.

“Lovely, isn’t she?” Steel asked.

“I hadn’t noticed,” he lied without missing a beat. “I’ve been too busy taking orders from her since I arrived.”

“Then continue not noticing.” Jared hadn’t changed in twenty years, still trying to rule where he had no authority. “And keep your hands to yourself.”

Fuck off, Steel.
“When it comes to Angélica, what I do with my
hands
should be the least of your concern.” Quint hoped she never caught wind of his boast, or she’d have him buried up to his neck next to a red ant hill.

“Dr. Steel!” Juan’s voice echoed across the plaza, interrupting their tête-à-tête. “Dr. Steel, please come with me. I could use your expertise.”

Expertise? That should feed Steel’s ego … for the moment anyway.

“Looks like you need to go.” Quint resisted the urge to use his boot to help Steel on his way.

“What are you doing here, Parker?”

Quint hid his hostility behind a cheesy smile. “I might ask you the same thing, Dr. Steel.”

* * *

A short time later, Angélica led Mr. Big-time Photojournalist to the crumbling limestone steps outside the Temple of the Crow where Esteban waited for them while smoking a cigarette.

She paused at the base of the steps, noticing the worried pinch of Esteban’s face as he stared over at the Temple of the Water Witch. The boy had been wound tight since the night he’d fractured his arm, and trying to convince him that no curse existed was a waste of breath.

“Esteban, this is Mr. Parker. He’s going to work with us today and take some pictures.”

“Call me Quint.” He pointed at the sling wrapped around Esteban’s right arm. “What happened?”

“
Mal viento
,” Esteban whispered, his gaze darting across to the other temple as he inhaled more nicotine.

Quint turned to Angélica. “An evil wind?”

“He fell down some steps,” she explained, wondering how much Spanish Quint understood.

Before Esteban could spur more questions with his paranoia, she told him to catch up when he finished his cigarette and motioned for Quint to follow her. She outpaced him to the top, much more accustomed to the heat than he. She waited inside the dim passageway leading to the heart of the temple while her eyes adjusted.

Quint caught up to her, fanning his sweat-soaked shirt. “Jesus, it’s hot.” He leaned against the wall, breathing hard.

If he was this hot already, he’d be melting by noon. She pulled out the extra water she’d brought along for him and held it out to him. “Take a drink.”

He looked down at the bottle. “Thanks, but I brought my own.”

“You’ll need more, take it.”

He smirked at the bottle but did as told. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a tad bossy?”

“My father may have mentioned it in passing once or twice.” She watched him tip the bottle back and swallow several gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the dark stubble shadowing his neck. Her gaze drifted down to the front of his shirt, noticing the contours underneath the cotton fabric sticking to him.

She turned away, picking at a loose stone on the opposite wall. It had been a while since she’d thought about a male as anything other than another body to help her achieve her goals for a dig season. If she were going to succeed this year in finding the proof she needed, she’d better keep it that way.

Quint capped the bottle. “I thought you said at breakfast that we’d be working with Alonso today.”

“Change of plans. Fernando needs him.” She flicked on her flashlight and led the way deeper into the temple. “Watch your head.” Quint was about six inches too tall to stand up straight in the tunnel. The ancient Maya people were mostly Angélica’s size or shorter. They hadn’t built these temples for someone of his height or shoulder width.

“Any questions before we get started?” She checked the floor for fresh rat or mouse scat.

“Do you ever work after supper?”

Yes, she did. Alone. Almost every night. But only her father knew about that.

“No. I’m not sure if you remember, but these temples soak up the heat throughout the day. By suppertime, it’ll feel like a sauna in here.”

The sound of footfalls drew close, followed by the smell of cigarette smoke.

“¿Listo?”
She checked to see if Esteban was ready to get started.

At his nod, she led them further down the passageway, checking behind her every few feet to make sure Quint and Esteban were following without trouble.

Where the tunnel forked, she glanced at Quint. “That daylight you see up ahead on the right is the main hall. I’ll take you there this afternoon.”

“It’s a date.” He took another swig from the bottle she’d given him.

Did he always flirt on a job? Or was she being oversensitive and making something out of nothing like Harriet in Jane Austen’s
Emma
? It had been a while since she’d slept with a man. Maybe her radar was rusty.

Moving on, she headed down the cramped corridor on her left. A short way into it, she stopped. “Hold up a minute.” She shined the light on the ceiling and walls, and then studied the hard-packed dirt floor. “Okay, it’s clear.”

“Of what?” Quint’s breath warmed her damp neck.

“Mice, rats, snakes, and bats.” She stepped over a large chunk of limestone that had fallen from the ceiling last month, antsy to put more space between them.

Quint followed. “Are you looking for tracks?”

“Yes, along with waste and food remains.” She waited until Esteban had made it past the stone before moving on.

“What do you do if you see a sign?” His tone had a slight edge to it.

“Step carefully.”

She chuckled at the litany of swear words he grumbled about the jungle and its many wonderful dangers. Quint Parker might be a hindrance, but she found herself smiling more during their trek through the dark temple than she had since the damned curse had shown up.

The corridor opened into a small, rectangular room.

Angélica grabbed two LED flashlights from the far side of the chamber. “Quint and I are taking the tunnel to Sub Chamber F,” she told Esteban, handing him one of the lights, and then motioned to the fresco-covered wall behind her. “You stay here and continue charting.”

Esteban pulled a drawing pad from his pack.

“If you finish with this before lunch,” she continued, “you can take over where Alonso left off yesterday charting the other tunnel.”

He nodded, his gaze darting from one shadow-filled corner to the next.

She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and then handed the other light to Quint. At his wrinkled brow, she motioned for him to follow, trekking through a narrow archway into a separate room. She crossed the stone floor and slid sideways through a wide fissure in the far wall.

He peered into the thick crack after her, holding back. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You call this a tunnel?”

“I call this claustrophobic.” She slid deeper into the tunnel. In her line of work, she couldn’t afford to get fidgety in tight places. “Come on, it’s only like this for about ten feet.”

“Then what?”

She looked back at him. “Then we crawl.”

His eyes widened in alarm. “There’s no way in hell you are getting me in that tiny crack. I’ll wait out here, see if Esteban needs some help.”

No, he wouldn’t. Esteban would fill Quint’s head with tales about
Xtabay
and curses. Besides, she really wanted him to see what was down this particular rabbit hole.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid,” she taunted. “Not a big, strong, brave photojournalist like you? I thought you ate adventure for breakfast every morning.”

“That was in my twenties. Adventure gives me heartburn now. I prefer breathing on a regular basis to risking life and limb every other day.”

“Come on, Parker. Don’t be a wuss about this.”

“You can call me all of the names you want, but I’m not going to get stuck and possibly crushed in a temple wall today. It’s not on my agenda.”

“You won’t get crushed, trust me. Maybe just pinched a little with a scrape here and there.” She held out her hand. “Take my hand. I’ll keep you safe.”

He shined his flashlight in her eyes. “Being nice to me now, Dr. García, will not lure me into that snake hole.”

She squinted in the brightness. “I’ve been nice to you since you got here.” She hadn’t sent him back to the village like she’d originally wanted to, had she? Not even after the game he’d played last night.

“Not nice enough to get me in there.”

“Take my hand, Quint.” She spoke soothingly this time, trying a different tactic.

He frowned, lowering the beam of light. “Why do we even need to go in there?”

“Because there’s something I want you to see. Something that will ‘wow’ you.”

“Really?” His gaze strayed down over her profile, stalling on her hips. “It’s been a while since I’ve been ‘wowed.’”

That made two of them. How long was he talking? Was there a wanna-be Mrs. Parker back in the States pining for him? She’d noticed the lack of a ring or tan line, but that didn’t mean he was unattached. Maybe she could figure out a way to hint at …

What in the hell are you doing?!

Shit.

Double shit.

This couldn’t happen. Not now. Not here. Not with Jared on site. And certainly not with her father’s future at stake. She needed to diffuse the situation somehow.

Making a show of rolling her eyes, she tried to jest about what had passed between them. “Parker, did you really just go
there
?”

“Hey, I can’t help it that my mind would rather go
there
than inside this crack where I could get squished flat.”

“You won’t get squished.” She slid closer to him, stretching her hand out further. “Come on.”

After a few more seconds of hesitation, he took her hand, his palm slick with sweat. He slid sideways inside the fissure with her.

“Before we do this,” he said, dragging anchor until she stopped, “I want to apologize for what I insinuated a moment ago. You being an attractive woman doesn’t give me license to be crude. My mother would have flicked my ear for not being a gentleman. I blame testosterone.”

He thought she was attractive? Even in this heat when she was constantly covered in sweat and dirt and grime? Even without a hint of makeup and her deodorant struggling to keep up? Sheesh. He must not have been ‘wowed’ in a
really
long time.

Appreciating his apology, she joked, “I thought I told you to leave your testosterone back in your tent.” She tugged him onward.

“No, you ordered me to leave my smart ass comebacks behind,” he whispered, as if afraid his voice might bring down the walls. He licked his lips. “Are you sure there aren’t any snakes in here?”