by Avery Flynn
The memory forced him to shift uncomfortably. Suddenly he was very thankful the lectern stood tall enough to block the view of his stiffening cock. His mouth dried as if he'd eaten six pounds of cotton. Seventy pairs of eyes stared, but only the laughing gray eyes in the back row held his interest. He fidgeted with his tablet, buying time to gather his thoughts and forget the woman who'd been dogging him in his dreams and fantasies.
Josie unzipped her jacket, revealing a low-cut emerald sweater that displayed mountains of cleavage.
What had been a vague sense of discomfort morphed into an urgent need to touch her soft skin again.
“Dr. Layton?”
Sam glanced down at a student in the front row.
The girl's brow wrinkled with concern.
Pull it together, moron. “Yes, sorry about that. My notes seem to have, uh, disappeared, so let's call it a day, everyone. See you on Wednesday.”
He stayed glued to his spot behind the lectern while the students filed out of the lecture hall. Their chatter covered the tension stretching between him and Josie, but once they were gone there was nothing left to diffuse it. Need slammed into him even as he acknowledged she only wanted to use him because he had Rebecca's map. But unlike the bombshell goddess heading his way, who had probably never heard the word no, he knew the difference between needing, wanting and getting. She was about to learn. Then she'd leave him alone and he would stop thinking of her at odd moments of the day. And all through the night.
“Long time no chat, Sam.” She strutted down the stairs. “How've you been?”
“I'm not going to help you.” He dropped his eyes to his briefcase and shoved everything inside, forgetting his natural orderly process in his haste to get away from Josie and the temptations she offered.
Her Ferrari red lips curled and she paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Help with what?”
His fingers curled around the edge of the lectern and he tried to block out her warm scent taunting him. “Rebecca's Bounty.”
“What makes you think the treasure is why I'm here?” She closed the distance between them, stopping just out of his reach.
“Please, don't insult my intelligence.”
She shrugged. “Fine, it's true. But that's not the only reason why I'm here.”
“Oh yeah, is this where you tell me some cock-and-bull story about how you've been dreaming of me every night?”
She leaned forward, her breasts threatening to spill out of her sweater. “Sounds to me like you're projecting. Is there something keeping you up at night?”
Sam kept his mouth shut. He'd already said enough.
Josie reached inside her jacket and brought out a small leather book. “A peace offering.”
When he didn't say anything, she placed the book on the lectern, her fingers brushing his, sending an electric jolt of a reminder of just how much he wanted this confounding woman.
“It's Rebecca's diary. I thought it should be back with your family.”
That threw him for a loop. “What's the catch?”
She sidled up to him, her breathing shallow. “No catch, but the treasure is out there. I have a pretty good idea of the general location. If we work together, using your map, I know we'll find it.”
He chuckled. “Do you know how many people have searched for that treasure and for how long?” Including himself. “What makes you think you'll be the one to find it?” He locked his briefcase and moved toward the door.
“Don't you ever go by faith, by gut feeling?”
He stilled at the challenge in her alto voice. Brash and defiant, she was an Amazon who couldn't be controlled. He was a college professor who ironed his T-shirts and micromanaged everything in his world. He shouldn't want her, but, dammit, he couldn't stop.
His stomach cramped at the idea of working with her and not succumbing to his desire. “No.”
“What happened to you, Sam? You're different, less adventurous than you were in Vegas.”
Las Vegas had been an aberration, an anomaly. Here in Dry Creek, that easygoing Sam didn't exist, hadn't for a very long time.
“This is the real me, Josie.” He faced her. “No lies.”
“Don't insult my intelligence now, Sam. You're not thinking clearly. Think of what we could find. A piece of your family's history.”
Damn it, how did she know just what buttons to push? But little did she realize his reasons for seeking Rebecca's Bounty over the past two decades had nothing to do with finding a piece of history and everything to do with Michael. If she was right, he could finally deliver on the promise he'd made to a dying boy. He grit his teeth, hoping she wouldn't see the cracks in his armor.
“So what do you get out of this, Josie?”
A trio of students barged into the room, talking loudly. They sat down in the back and pulled out laptops from their bags.
He glanced at the clock. Professor Schaffer's lecture would begin in about ten minutes. He grabbed Josie's hand, pulling her to the exit. “Come on, we can talk in my office.”
“Yes, sir.” She gave him an awkward left-handed salute since he was holding her right.
They emerged into the bright January sunlight, the glare glinting off the hard-packed snow covering the Cather College quad. A frigid blast of air swept across the open space and Josie shivered beside him before zipping up her leather jacket. It was perfect for a Vegas winter, but a pitiful excuse for a winter coat in Nebraska.
He glanced down at her boots. Not surprisingly, they weren’t made for walking on ice. The damn things had such spindly heels that he couldn't imagine how she walked in them period. He didn't want her to fall on the slick brick walkway, that's why he didn’t let go of her hand. Why else would he pull her closer to his side other than to help block the wind from freezing her solid?
Sam ignored the little voice laughing inside his head and quickened his pace, keeping time with the chattering of her teeth. A few minutes later, he turned toward Sandoz Hall and the warmth of his cramped office. He'd make some coffee; that would warm her up. Not that he cared. It was just common courtesy, that's all.
“Are we close?” Her teeth chattered.
“Yep, that building up ahead.”
At that moment, he spotted the telltale neon-green winter coat and matching bedazzled knit hat. Only one human being in the world thought neon green needed to be jazzed up.
Mom.
Luckily, Glenda Layton's back was to them as she walked toward his office. Shit. If his mother saw them together, she wouldn't rest until she knew everything about Josie. And when it came to digging up gossip, no one was better than his mother—especially if it involved her children. Persuading Glenda not to interfere in her children's lives was about as easy as teaching a goat to use a fork and knife.
Glenda stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, her gloved hand digging through her purse. She brought out a cellphone.
“Yellow,” she hollered into the phone, her mispronounced greeting carrying over the wind.
If he played it right, he could get past her. Gripping Josie's ice-cold fingers in his, he sped up the pace.
Swerving around the students shuffling to class, he hoped a few of the wrapped-up co-eds would serve as a wall between them and Glenda. Ignoring Josie's squawk of protest, he hoofed it down the sidewalk.
A few feet now and they'd be past Glenda and her inquiring mind.
Right as they were steps away from his mom, she snapped the phone shut and turned.
He and Josie came face-to-face with Glenda.
She took in the otherworldly blonde beside him and her gaze traveled down to his fingers wrapped around Josie's. When she looked back up, he swore he could see grandchildren reflected in the depths of her brown eyes.
Before she could open her mouth, he blurted out the first thing to come to mind. “Hi, Mom! Big meeting, talk to you later.”
Yanking Josie along, he sped toward his office, knowing he'd only postponed the inevitable.
“Shit, we're not goi
ng to make it in time.” Josie jerked to a halt.
“What?”
The appearance of the thug from the Vegas diner answered one question and created so many more.
Chapter Seven
Josie's stomach sank to her toes.
“Where you going in such a hurry?” Linc cracked his knuckles.
“Inside where it's warm.” She hoped he'd chalk up her shivers to the weather instead of the bone-deep fear making her spasm.
Linc stuck out his chest. He didn't bother to look at her, but locked his gaze on Sam. “Got a message for you from Mr. Esposito.”
“What, Snips can't pick up the phone again?” She shivered but refused to give up any ground.
That earned her a look from the giant, who looked even bigger in a puffy coat. Who'd have thought it was possible? The guy was six feet seven and a wall of solid muscle. There were buildings on Dry Creek's Main Street that cast a smaller shadow.
“I'd hate to have to tell him you called him that, considering all he's done to accommodate your special circumstances.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah right. He wants…” She swallowed back the truth. “What he wants.”
Linc returned his attention to Sam. “Why don't you take a walk so the lady and I can talk business.”
Sam took a menacing step forward, half blocking her from Linc's view. “Why don't you go—”
“Sam!” Josie wasn't cold anymore even though her breath hung in the cold air like a cumulous cloud. She stepped around him and sent him a pleading look. Even as solid as Sam felt beside her, Linc made his living hurting people. “Please, I can take care of this.”
The tension in his shoulders screamed out how much he wanted to object, but he pursed his lips together and shot Linc a die-scum look instead.
The big man's face lost all expression and icy dread filled her up so fully she feared her bones might crack.
“Mr. Esposito wants to make sure you really understand what you've got riding on this.” He held out a photo of an adobe ranch-style house. Her mother sat in her wheelchair on the porch.
Anxiety curled around her brainstem and she battled her dueling instincts of attacking Linc or running away.
“Leave my parents out of this.” She barely heard her own words over the blood rushing in her ears.
Her choices were nil. She had to trick Sam into helping her find the treasure, steal it from under his nose and give it up to that shithead Snips. Only then would her parents be safe. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. But it was the only way out of this mess for her family.
“Why don't you just get the fuck out of here, or do I have to make you?” Sam snarled the question.
Josie whipped around, taking in the firm set to Sam's jaw and the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. “Stay out of this, Sam.”
The giant's smirk practically shouted out his hope that Sam would take a swing. “Don't fuck this up, Josie, or it won't just be you and Cyril facing the consequences.”
He walked away, a crowd of students parting automatically to make room for him, as if they knew that evil walked amongst them and wanted to get as far away as possible.
It took thirty seconds before Josie could feel the tips of her ears and another fifteen before her earlobes began to throb as the blood vessels opened up in reaction to the warmth of Sam's office. Linc had to have already been in Dry Creek when that bastard Snips called in the wee hours this morning. He wasn't leaving anything to chance. Neither could she.
“Sam—”
He silenced her by holding up his hand. “First things first.”
Ignoring her, he busied himself with a single-cup coffee maker on a sideboard that wouldn't dare hold a speck of dust, if the rest of Sam's office was anything to go by. The bookshelf by a large window held books alphabetized by author. The pen cup on his desk held only black pens. A white, unlined notepad sat near the phone. The rest of his desk was as barren as Nebraska looked from 20,000 feet above.
The only bit of color came in the form of the lone framed photo on the bookshelf. In it, Sam, three other men and a woman towered over a younger redheaded woman with curly hair and a devil-may-care smirk. Josie picked it up for a closer look. One of the men had been with Sam in Vegas. Must be a brother. The other men she didn't recognize, but the deep laugh lines and bald head of the tallest identified him as Dad. The tall woman, his mother that they'd passed on the sidewalk, had Sam's serious face. Her fierceness was undiminished by the ornery side-eye glance she leveled at the father.
“The Laytons.” He stood behind her, casting a shadow over the family photo.
She tried to ignore it, but a frisson of something buzzed between them, sweeping against her skin and overheating her flesh until her thin sweater felt as if it was made of thick Irish wool. She shrugged out of her jacket, laughing inside as his gaze dipped lower and then snapped back up to her eyes a millisecond later.
“Your mom looks like a handful.”
“You have no idea.” He handed her a plain white mug filled with coffee.
“Thank you.”
“Have a seat.” He nodded toward an empty wooden chair across from his perfectly clean desk.
She sat down and Sam lounged against one corner of the desk.
She had to ignore the way the light played in his hair, the hint of promise in his eyes and the way he always appeared in her paintings. Sam was a means to an end—to save her parents from Snips' vengeance. She had to remember that, no matter how much she wished it wasn't the truth.
“I need your help finding the treasure.” Not her smoothest request, but she had to get the words out before the guilt twisting her gut overwhelmed her family-preservation instincts.
“Tell me what the hell this is all about. Who is Snips and why is he threatening your parents?”
“I can't tell you that.”
Sam grabbed her arm, sending another spark of awareness skittering up her skin. “I need to know what the hell the urgency is all about on your part. What's the real threat?”
Her spine stiffened. “None of your damn business. Let go of me now.”
His gaze dropped to his fingers wrapped around her upper arm and a flush crept into his cheeks. He let go and stepped back as if burned. “Sorry, I shouldn't have touched you.”
An awkward silence filled the room, pushing the tension higher.
She couldn't tell him the truth. The less he knew, the easier it would be to take what she had to and walk away. A pang of regret clanged in her belly, but she turned a deaf ear to her conscience. If waitressing had taught her anything, it was how to spin a tale that paralleled the truth as closely as possible to get the customer on her side. If it worked for a messed-up drink order, she'd make it work for something much more important—her parents' lives.
Ignoring the unease burbling in her gut, she pressed forward. “Forty thousand.”
“What?” Those hazel eyes of his rounded in surprise.
“My brother, Cy, owes his loan shark, Snips, forty K for a can't-miss business opportunity that did. Snips can't find Cy, but still wants his money.” The words tumbled out, burying her in deceit. “When I read Rebecca's diary, I realized the treasure is real. She buried something—probably jewelry.”
“People have been hunting for Rebecca's Bounty for longer than I've been alive.” His tone turned harsh and dark, pain bleeding through despite his attempt to hide it. “They've found maps in the past, all of which were exposed as fakes. Can't you come up with the money another way?”
Josie snorted. “I've already emptied my lavish savings account and been turned down for a personal loan from every bank in Vegas that doesn't do business with a baseball bat. My dad's been out of work for months, but finally found a job with the friend of a friend in Arizona. My mom needs dialysis several times a week and is on disability. If Snips goes after them, it won't be pretty.”
“Your brother sounds like a real winner.”
Her protective instincts perked up. “Hey, he's a good g
uy. Mostly. He'd been in trouble in the past, but Cy cleaned up his act a few years ago.”
“So where is he now?”
Her brain went into overdrive, searching for a plausible location. “Northern California. He took a job with a traveling construction crew.” That was the cover story he'd been telling their parents.
“So you're stuck holding the bag.”
Now it was her turn to shrug. “Yeah.” Time to bring this back to the treasure because as much as she didn't want his help, she needed it. “I need your help to find the treasure. If we work together, we can split it down the middle. I just need enough to cover Cy's debt.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You're still not telling me everything and until you do, I'm not helping.”
Snips had been clear about the consequences of telling the truth. As much as she was drawn to Sam, she couldn't risk hurting her parents. “I can't.”
“Then it looks like we don't have anything left to talk about.”
Judging by his clenched jaw, the smartest move would be to admit a temporary defeat. No matter what it took, she'd make him change his mind about finding Rebecca's Bounty. She reached past him to retrieve her jacket from where she'd laid it on his desk. The movement brought her lips within kissing distance of his mouth. The attraction buzzing between them grew to a deafening level. She paused, hovering near him, her lips parting of their own volition as she stared at his mouth. Images of all the things he could do—all he had done—with his mouth flashed in her mind. Anticipation stretched between them as tangible as an invisible wire. Her clit twitched with need and she squeezed her thighs together.
The slight movement broke the spell. Sam blinked his golden hazel eyes and pulled back.
Sam turned away from her, walked over to the window and stared out at the snow-covered quad. The afternoon sun caught the reddish highlights in his hair. “I spent a summer looking for it, walking every inch of McPherson's Bluff, combing over survey maps and aerial photographs.”
