Risky Surrender

by Robin Bielman

  “Fine.” She turned the key in the ignition. The car didn’t start. She tried again. Still no luck. “Dammit.”

  They got out and McCall looked under the hood. The scant amount of remaining daylight made it tough to get a good look. Clay sauntered over. “Problem?”

  “You got jumper cables?” McCall asked.

  “For the pretty lady, I’ve got whatever she needs.” He smiled at Lucy.

  The only reason McCall kept his cool at his friend’s blatant attempt to one-up him was because Lucy didn’t smile back.

  Five minutes later, a jump hadn’t worked. “I’ll get a tow truck out here tomorrow,” McCall said. “Grab whatever you need for tonight and we’ll take my truck.”

  Lucy shook her head. She took her knapsack and another shoulder bag out of the car and clicked the alarm. “I don’t need a tow truck, I need gas.”

  “You couldn’t have mentioned that a few minutes ago?”

  She shrugged, a mischievous grin lifted the corners of her mouth. “I thought I’d make it a few more miles. I’ll walk to a gas station and get a lift back.”

  Clay laughed, no doubt amused that the last thing Lucy wanted was to get in a car with him.

  “You do realize the nearest gas station is about four miles away?” McCall hadn’t been around many women who didn’t agree with whatever he said, but he knew putting his foot down with Lucy would only backfire. She needed space. And he’d give it to her—for a mile or two. Just long enough for her to get her thoughts in order.

  “I went to college. I’m good with distances. But thanks for that.” She waved over her shoulder and started down the dirt path leading to the highway.

  McCall leaned against the car and watched her go. Sweat trickled down his side.

  “Wow,” Clay said. “Never thought I’d see the day a woman walked away from you. And in the middle of the desert.” He cracked up and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “I’m definitely tweeting this.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Her name is Lucy. We met last month.” McCall pressed away from the car but couldn’t pull his gaze from her retreat.

  “She blow you off then, too?”

  McCall turned his head and glared at Clay. He should tell him about Lucy, but he held back. If Clay knew she was a thief and probably on the hunt for something at the village, he’d be all over McCall to stop helping her.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  And he wanted to help her. At least for tonight. He glanced into her car for a clue that might help him draw a better picture of this complicated woman. Independent was all he came up with.

  “There’s something else going on,” Clay said, his keen perception annoying as hell.

  “Maybe. But I’ll fill you in later.” He’d never chased someone before, but Lucy made him forget himself. He strode to his truck. “You good, here?”

  “When am I ever not?” Clay called back.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Won’t I see you when you come back for Lucy’s car?”

  “We’re not coming back tonight.”

  Chapter Three

  An evening shade swallowed the scenery around Lucy as the desert slipped into sleep. She picked up her pace in hopes of getting to a gas station before complete darkness fell. Nocturnal creatures didn’t bother her much, but coyotes preferred the night, didn’t they? And ever since she was ten and a coyote had killed the stray dog she’d found, she’d been afraid of them.

  A car pulled up and idled along beside her.

  “Get in,” floated out the passenger window.

  She stopped and slowly turned. McCall’s voice did things to her that no other sound had ever done before. The reaction hurt as much as it aroused. Even though Matt had been gone for over two years, she felt like she was betraying him.

  For a few long seconds she just stared, not sure what she wanted to do. He’d stopped the car and was staring back, and his quiet patience snared her. Her heart skipped a beat. She’d meant it when she told him he’d be better off keeping his distance. She wasn’t good for anybody. And especially not him. Because no matter what, she was taking the Tlaloc sculpture from his village.

  “Come on, Lucy. Let me give you a ride.”

  The way he said her name, like he really liked it, lured her into his truck with relative ease. She shouldn’t be doing this, but she was unable to stop herself.

  The cool air circulating inside his truck was a welcome relief from the warm desert breeze. “Thank you,” she said, only because she had good manners and not because sitting beside him made her feel safer than she’d been in a long time.

  “No problem.”

  They drove in silence until they passed the gas station and her back went ramrod straight, the seatbelt cutting across her chest uncomfortably. “Where are we going?”

  “I’m getting you a room and feeding you dinner.”

  “No, McCall.”

  He slid her a look out of the corner of his eye. “One day you’re going to say ‘Yes, McCall.’”

  “One day?” she said. “There is only right now and if you don’t pull over at the next gas station I’m going to scream out the window for help.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She pressed the button for the window, but realized no one would hear her plea. “Damn it, McCall. You can’t do this.”

  “Why not?” He drove up the freeway onramp, further away from her car, further away from the vow she’d made.

  “Because I’m not a charity case and I can take care of myself.” Tension and excitement combined to put her head and body at odds with each other. The air crackled between them despite the fact that they came from different worlds. His day job earned him a nice living, but he also came from a wealthy family that the media loved to cover. McCall’s grandfather was an international businessman worth millions. McCall’s father had followed suit, adding philanthropy to their family company. And from the expensive watch on his wrist to the light blue Polo shirt that did little to hide his broad, muscular chest, he seemed every inch the do-gooder playboy she’d read about.

  “Getting help doesn’t mean you’re not capable,” he said, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. “But not helping means I’m a jerk. And while I think I’ve figured out you’d rather be anywhere but in this car, I’m not giving you a choice tonight.”

  Lucy thought about her tight budget and bit the inside of her cheek. “Fine. But I don’t need anything special.”

  McCall lifted her hand. “You can quit squeezing the life out of your bag. Tonight is on me.”

  She wanted to argue with him, but if she were really honest with herself, a free night’s sleep in a bed sounded much better than her backseat. And if it made him feel better about himself then who was she to deny him?

  A few minutes later they exited the freeway and arrived at the El Cabazon Canyon Campground. Luxury cabins and tents sat amidst natural surroundings. Tiny white lights twinkled in the trees. Lucy laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “This is your idea of roughing it, isn’t it?” She’d heard about glamping, but never thought she’d experience it.

  He parked and tossed her a glance as he slid out his door. “You have a problem with comfort?”

  “No.” Lucy put both her bags on her shoulder, refusing to let him help when he reached to carry the larger one. She followed him along the cobblestone path to a large main cabin. “What’s that smell?” Her stomach growled for the tenth time.

  “Corn roasting in adobe fireplaces. I promise we’ll eat just as soon as we get you a room.”

  While he made arrangements at the check-in desk, Lucy sat in a wicker rocking chair and picked up the Outside magazine lying on the cedar side table. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d read anything other than history books and maps.

  “I’ve got good news and bad news,” McCall said a couple of minutes later.

  Luc
y got to her feet. Again, he lingered too close, his scent and size overwhelming her. She teetered back a step. “Okay.”

  “The bad news is there are no available rooms. The good news is my cabin is big enough for both of us. Let’s go.”

  His words all ran together as if speaking fast would make that arrangement okay. She stood frozen to her spot for a second.

  “Don’t worry,” he tossed out, as she hurried to keep up with him. “I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”

  As far as bad ideas went, this ranked at the top. Lucy already found it hard to breathe around him. Spending time under the same roof would only fuel the combustible air between them.

  You can do this. He might push her beyond her comfort zone, but she’d been keeping her distance from people her whole life. No one got in unless she wanted them to, and Keats McCall was no exception.

  She walked beside him as they took the path to his cabin. Pine trees and red Bird of Paradise shrubs flanked them on both sides, the campsite a far cry from the desert of an hour ago.

  The path narrowed and his arm grazed hers. Every time he touched her the urge to touch him back swelled inside her. He nodded to the right. “That way.”

  A minute later McCall led her up wooden steps to a large deck and cabin. Two Adirondack chairs and a small oak table sat off to the side. He unlocked the sliding glass door and eased it open.

  Lucy took a deep breath then followed him inside, confident she could handle one night and keep the upper hand. “Wow.”

  The king-sized canopy bed, plank flooring, Native American rugs, and high ceilings were cozy and inviting and put her right at ease. Off to one side, she noticed a footed tub in the bathroom and two sinks. On the other side was a wall made of side-by-side tree trunks with an open entryway. She stepped through and found a second bedroom with a queen-sized bed.

  “This is for me?” she asked, startled to find he’d been watching her.

  “Yep.”

  She dropped her bags and jumped onto the bed. It felt like heaven as she rolled onto her back and sank into the soft cotton comforter. After being stuck in her car for the past ten days, the bed was nothing short of amazing.

  It wasn’t that she couldn’t afford a cheap motel room here or there. But after spending the last two years working for Malcolm for basically nothing because of the repayment her father owed him, she had to be careful with what little she’d managed to save. Until she got a job, she couldn’t afford any luxuries. And she couldn’t get a job until she kept her promise to recover the Tlaloc sculpture.

  “Better than last night’s sleeping arrangement, I’m guessing.” McCall leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t sound smug or pitying. He sounded…happy.

  Lucy blinked away the warmth that ignited inside her. “I guess this will do.” She rolled onto her side and propped her head up with her hand.

  His smile upped her warm factor. “I thought I’d order us a pizza if that’s okay with you.”

  “I like pizza.” And she was quite happy he didn’t want to go out somewhere. Now that she was lying down every muscle in her body asked to stay right where they were.

  “Great. Any particular topping you want?”

  “Pineapple and anchovies.”

  He made a face like he’d just eaten something sour and then chased it with Tabasco sauce.

  “I’m kidding. I’ll take it any way you like it.”

  “Promise?” McCall’s eyes darkened and she had a feeling he wasn’t thinking about pizza anymore.

  She wasn’t either, now that she realized what had just come out of her mouth. A mouth that now had the attention of his heated gaze. She rolled over onto her back and pretended she had no idea he was flirting with her.

  Getting too chummy with the enemy wasn’t part of the plan.

  …

  Lucy’s position on the bed reminded him of making angels in the snow. But when she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hell if that didn’t make him think about crawling on top of her and making her scream his name before he flipped her over and took her a second time.

  If she was trying to give him the biggest hard-on of his life, it was working.

  She rolled onto her stomach, her chin in her palms, her legs bent at the knee. “You’re still here.”

  “Uh, yeah.” He needed to wait for a certain body part to settle down.

  “I’m really hungry.”

  So the fuck was he. With wisps of hair around her face, her ponytail in complete disarray, and her full lips absent of a tastes-like-shit colored beauty product, she muddled every sane thought in his head.

  He pushed off the wall and moved toward her.

  “What are you doing?” She scrambled up onto her knees.

  “It’s time for a little question and answer.” He sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Are you trying to kill me? Because if I don’t eat soon, I might die.” She relaxed some on her haunches. “But maybe that’s your plan. If I’m dead you don’t have to worry about what I’m doing here.”

  “Just where to bury the body.” He winked.

  She bristled and it was damn cute. He picked up the phone on the nightstand and ordered a pepperoni pizza from the place down the road that boasted the best deep dish in the southwest. He included a Caesar salad, side of spaghetti and meatballs, and four bottles of water.

  “Thank you,” she said on a breathy sigh before moving to sit back against the headboard. She reached down and undid her boots, then tossed them to the floor. Her socks were pink leopard print.

  They made him wonder what her other undergarments might look like. He cleared his throat. “Should be here in forty-five minutes.”

  “Perfect. My expiration date was one hour. So you have questions?”

  He moved beside her, his legs extending several inches beyond hers. “You’re awfully agreeable all of a sudden.”

  “No. Just smart. I figure for every question you ask, I get one, too. Otherwise you can forget it.”

  McCall inwardly groaned. How had she turned his question and answer into her game? Time to take back control. “How long have you been a thief?”

  “I’m…” She jutted her chin out and looked at him. Eyes far too beautiful and assessing studied him for several seconds. “I’m not a thief. I’m an archeologist.”

  “Honestly?” He searched for the truth in the swirls of green and brown still locked on him and found so much more—strength, perseverance, devotion. “Then I don’t understand.” And he wanted to. He wanted to know what drove Lucy more than he’d ever wanted to know about anyone else.

  “I find objects of historic value. What’s not to understand?”

  “You steal them, for one. And your employer is an asshole, for two. The archeologists I know split their time between honest fieldwork and laboratory studies.”

  She brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I told you I don’t work for Malcolm anymore and who are you to judge how I use my degree? You know nothing about me.”

  “Fill me in.” He wondered if she’d go for it.

  “What’s being done at the Aztec village?”

  He chuckled at his wishful thinking. “Stuff.”

  Lucy glared at him. “They give you that fancy president title for doing stuff?” She turned her head, slid her hands down her shins, and rubbed her feet.

  “My stuff is better than anyone else’s.” He grabbed her ankles and pulled until she was on her back and her feet were in his lap.

  “Hey!” She lifted, but the second he started to massage her foot, she leaned back on her elbows and her shoulders relaxed. Her eyelids fluttered shut, a tiny moan fell from her lips. She slapped her hand over her mouth and her eyebrows furrowed.

  “Been awhile, huh?”

  “Wha…What?” She stammered, moving her hand away.

  “Since someone’s taken care of you.” He watched a flash of pain cloud her eyes and drain the color from her cheeks. Shit. Had she lo
st someone?

  She tried to pull her feet back, but he held tight. He wanted to rub every bad thing that had happened to her away with each stroke of his hands.

  “Where was the last place you visited just for fun?” he asked, hoping to steer the conversation to more pleasant memories.

  “Here.” She grabbed one of the bed pillows and put it behind her head.

  “Lucy. You are not fooling me a second time.”

  The corners of her mouth split into the kind of smile you couldn’t help but return. Only the one dimple. But the damage it did ruined him for other smiles.

  “The look on your face when I waved from the motorboat was priceless.”

  He dug his fingers a little harder into the pad of her foot before switching to the other one. “Why do you do it? It’s obviously not for money.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “That involves someone else?” He’d keep prying until she told him. She couldn’t be more than twenty-six or twenty-seven, which meant her story couldn’t be that long.

  She undid her ponytail and shook her head. The wavy auburn strands fanned across the pillow when she lowered her head back down.

  McCall gulped. His eyes roamed over her face, down to her chest, and followed the smooth skin of her tanned legs until he reached his hands. In his grasp, her small foot almost disappeared from view.

  “I told you I’m on my own.”

  “But you weren’t always.”

  “Guess my superpower and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” She wiggled her shoulders from side to side and burrowed a little deeper into the comforter.

  “Sorry?” What the hell was she talking about?

  “You know, if you could have any superpower, what would it be? Guess mine. I already know yours.”

  “Ah. And what’s mine?”

  “Oh my God. Don’t stop. That feels so good right there.” She closed her eyes again as he pressed his thumb into the bottom of her heel.

  His superpower at the moment? Restraint. It took everything he had not to move his hands up her legs and touch her everywhere.

  “You,” she continued, “would like the power of invisibility.”