by Donna Grant
Arran took her small, thin hand in his. Something electric passed between them with that one, simple touch. And just like that, the passion erupted out of control, and was directed right at Ronnie.
His body heated, his balls tightened again. All the desire he’d been pushing aside roared to life, urging him, driving him to pull her in his arms and taste her lips. She had the appearance of a calm, collected person, but Arran could see the passion simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to be released.
The slight widening of her eyes let him know she’d felt it, too. He wanted to press her, to make her acknowledge what was between them.
He wanted to see the desire in her eyes, feel her warm flesh beneath his hands. A tremor went through her hand, and Arran found himself tugging her to him. For just a moment she leaned into him. His gaze lowered to her lips. Nothing mattered but sampling her kisses.
She hastily looked away. But not before he saw lust darken her hazel eyes.
Arran bit back his smile at the last minute. As soon as he was alone, he was going to call Saffron and let her know her little jest about keeping secret Ronnie’s identity as a female hadn’t been funny.
He’d wondered why she had intentionally left out what Ronnie looked like. At first he thought Saffron was just preoccupied with the baby, but now he knew the real cause.
Yet, for all the reasons he was irritated with Saffron, Arran was more than pleased with what he saw of Ronnie. He wanted her. Nay, want was too weak of a word. He hungered for Ronnie, ached to feel her soft body against him.
Her wheat-colored hair and hazel eyes stood out against the dark bronze of her skin. Almond-shaped eyes, pert nose, amazing lips … there wasn’t anything about Ronnie that wasn’t feminine and altogether too alluring.
She was the kind of woman who would look good dressed in a formal gown, or as she was with jeans, shirt, and coat dusted with dirt and mud.
She was the kind of woman Arran liked. The kind he’d never been able to find.
The irony didn’t go unnoticed.
“Call me Arran, please.”
For long moments they simply stared into each other’s eyes. He knew she felt the desire, knew by the way her pulse quickened at her throat that he affected her.
“I’m Pete Thornton.”
Arran reluctantly released Ronnie’s hand and shook Pete’s. It took everything he could not to growl at Pete for interrupting them. Instead, he forced a smile. “How do you factor in this dig?”
Pete looked at Ronnie and they both laughed, but it was Pete who answered. “I was Ronnie’s professor at Stanford. She had a love for archeology I’d never seen before. And her knack for finding things is unparalleled.”
“Is that so?” Arran grew more intrigued about Ronnie Reid the more he discovered about her. There was magic here. Could it be from the magical artifacts lost long ago, the pendant Ronnie wore, or Ronnie herself?
Arran couldn’t wait to find out.
“Enough, Pete,” Ronnie said with a shy smile. “You know sometimes we get lucky in our digs, and sometimes we don’t.”
“Ah, but you’re luckier than most.”
“Come, I’ll show you to your tent,” Ronnie said to Arran.
He wasn’t fooled. She had cut Pete off before he could say more about how she found her artifacts. “Verra intriguing,” he murmured to himself.
With a wave to Pete, Arran followed her as they walked across the area roped off by the government; the rope border allowed them to dig but also kept others out.
Thousands of conversations, shouts, the sound of shovels plunging into the ground, and even the ring of hammers striking rocks filled the air.
As if reading his mind, Ronnie smiled. “No one ever realizes how loud the sites can be.”
“Aye. I wasna expecting this. The noise, nor the sheer amount of people.”
“We could use about a dozen more. So this is your first archeological dig?”
“It is. I willna be a hindrance, though.”
Arran didn’t miss the way she looked him up and down once they reached the set of tents that stood in a semicircle in front of dozens of caravans.
“No, I don’t expect you will. Why my dig, though?”
“It’s my country. I want to see what the past holds.”
She gave a small nod of acceptance. “This is your tent. You’ll be sharing with Pete for a few nights before he returns to the States for business.”
Arran ducked into the tent through the zippered opening. He saw two cots, one on either side of the small tent. It wasn’t optimal, since he’d have to share, but it could have been worse.
“This will do fine,” he said over his shoulder before he tossed his two bags on the cot that was freshly made.
* * *
Ronnie tried not to look at his ass, she really did. But she’d never seen a man fill out a pair of jeans the way Arran MacCarrick did.
And it wasn’t just his jeans. From his wide shoulders and muscular chest to the way that torso narrowed to jeans resting low on slim hips and encasing long legs, he fascinated her. Ronnie would bet that beneath that black tee were abs so defined, she’d be able to count each of them.
In one word, he was yummy.
He was the embodiment of tall, dark, and handsome. It was his smile, the one that said he knew secrets of the flesh she could only imagine. A smile that beckoned her to throw caution to the wind and let her body lead.
But she’d already made that mistake once. One tall, dark, and handsome man was enough for a lifetime. It didn’t matter that Arran exuded a sexual magnetism she found herself inexplicably drawn to. He had charisma and confidence in spades.
Add that to a tight, muscular body a blind woman could drool over, and Ronnie knew she was in trouble with a capital T. Arran flashed that smile and stared at her as if he could look deep into her soul and uncover her wildest dreams and desires.
For a moment, she almost let him.
For a moment, she could see herself with him. Naked. Limbs entwined, breaths harsh and uneven, skin slick with sweat, and desire ruling her, leading her.
Ronnie couldn’t dislodge the image now that she’d conjured it. And felt it. Her body throbbed, as if it yearned to be touched. By Arran.
Her heart thudded in her chest as she fought against the pull of his body. It would be so easy to give in and let her passion and his virility dictate everything.
The newest member of her team was friendly enough, but she didn’t miss the way his gaze moved around the site, as if trying to study everything without being seen.
Saffron had funded many of Ronnie’s digs, so she wasn’t about to tell her no when Saffron asked if a friend could help on the site. Yet now Ronnie had the urge to call Saffron and learn all she could about Arran.
It wasn’t just his rugged good looks that set her off kilter. It was the gleam in his golden eyes, the way he stood, as if he were ready for battle.
Which was silly, because there was nothing to fight.
Ronnie chuckled to herself.
“What is it?” Arran asked when he straightened.
She shook her head and grinned. “Every time I come to Scotland, I find myself thinking I’ll see men with swords strapped to them, ready for battle.”
He didn’t laugh as she expected. Instead, he gazed at her with his amazing golden eyes, an intensity about him that made it difficult for her to draw breath.
Dark brows slashed between eyes and a high forehead. A wealth of hair so dark brown that it almost appeared black was kept long with a hint of a wave and hung past his shoulders. He had impossibly long, thick eyelashes, and the dark stubble on his chiseled cheeks and square jaw only added to his attraction.
Then there were his wide lips that were fuller than a man’s ought to be. They made her think of tangled limbs, of long, sensual kisses where she’d forget everything but the man touching her.
As a total package, Arran was the kind of man who turned heads wherever he went. Women wanted him
, and men wanted to be him.
Ronnie knew what came with having a man like Arran around. Every instinct told her to have him leave, but she needed extra hands around. And she couldn’t refuse Saffron’s request.
Not to mention she couldn’t ignore the yearning of her body, no matter how hard she tried. Her heart had been racing, her blood ablaze through her veins since he had walked up. His easy, devil-may-care attitude and stark enticement couldn’t be disregarded, no matter how much she tried to do just that.
She pulled her jacket tighter in an effort to shield her aching nipples. They’d grown hard at the first inflection of his deep, velvety voice. His Scots brogue low and thick. Just hearing him talk made goose bumps rise along her arms.
Odd how none of the other Scots caused the same reaction.
“You’re no’ off the mark,” he finally said, drawing her out of her thoughts. “My land has seen countless battles as men fought to rule us.”
“You speak as if you’ve lived here from the beginning of time.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I have in a past life.”
Ronnie normally dismissed such inane sayings, but somehow, she believed it when Arran said it. Maybe not that he’d lived another life, but that he was much more than he appeared to be.
He was dangerous. Of that she was sure.
Dangerous to her psyche. Dangerous to her capacity to forget him as she had done so many other men.
He was captivating, charismatic, and entirely too interesting.
“Why do I get the feeling, lass, that you doona want me here?” Arran asked.
“Because men like you—”
“Men like me?” he interrupted, one dark brow raised as if he didn’t like being compared to other men.
And she had to admit, Arran MacCarrick really couldn’t be compared to anyone else.
“Yes, good-looking men who come to the digs distract the women. They flirt and get involved instead of focusing on the dig. People can get injured, artifacts lost, broken, or even stolen, and any number of things when people aren’t concentrating on their tasks.”
“So, you think I’m handsome,” he said with a crooked grin.
Ronnie sighed and rolled her eyes, trying her damnedest not to feel the flutter of her stomach at his smile. She had the urge to return his smile, but she had learned her lesson long ago with such daring, gorgeous men.
“What I think is beside the point. You’re here because Saffron requested it. I know her. If you’re her friend, I just want to ask that you remember that when the women begin to take notice of you.”
His smile disappeared and his gaze narrowed. “I know my duty. You willna have a problem with me sniffing around any of the women. I can no’ help if they come to me, but I give you my word, I’ll dissuade them.”
This Ronnie hadn’t expected. “Uh … thank you.”
“I’m many things, Ronnie, but I wouldna think of compromising this dig or you.”
She shifted from foot to foot, feeling like an ass for saying all those things to him. “I just needed you to understand.”
“And I do, lass. Doona fret over it. My hide is thicker than most, so it’ll take more than your honest words to rile me.”
“I’d almost like to see that,” she said with a grin. As soon as the words were out, she wasn’t sure where they had come from. Ronnie cleared her throat. “Why don’t you take the rest of the evening to look around? We’re wrapping things up for the night, and Andy and Pete are around if you need anything. First thing in the morning, I’ll give you your duties.”
“Sounds good. Only, you might want to think of covering that,” Arran said as he pointed to the twelve-foot-by-four-foot section of newly excavated soil. “There’s about to be a downpour.”
“They said not until sometime tomorrow.”
“Scottish weather is as fickle as I’ve seen. You can no’ trust what weathermen say. You must learn to read the weather yourself, lass.”
Ronnie looked at the section. They’d dug just four inches, but already they had found bits of broken pottery. After three years in Scotland, she knew how changeable the weather was. If it rained, there was no telling what would get washed away. And she knew something was there, waiting to be discovered.
Yet covering it now would put them behind schedule.
The other six sections they had been digging on for over a month were already covered to shield 90 percent of the rain.
Ronnie glanced at the sky before she looked at the new section. There was something important underneath all that dirt. She knew it in her soul.
She felt it.
It wasn’t something she told anyone, but that same feeling was what led her to so many finds on her past digs. Her … gift … was what made her famous, but it was a secret she would have to take to the grave. There wasn’t a soul she could trust with such knowledge.
“Andy!” she called. “Cover the new section ASAP. Rain is coming!”
Andy gave a nod, and instantly the diggers moved while others hurried to cover the section. Ronnie was surprised when Arran rushed to help.
So surprised that it took her a moment before she followed suit. As they all struggled with the bright blue tarp, the wind howled around them, trying its best to jerk the canvas out of their hands.
It wasn’t until the tarp was staked securely in the ground that Ronnie looked up. And found golden eyes watching her, assessing her. The pull she’d felt earlier tugged her toward him.
She kept her feet rooted to the spot somehow, but there was no denying she wanted Arran. His kisses, his touch, his … body.
A heartbeat later, the first fat raindrop landed on her cheek. Before she could gain her feet, the heavens unleashed a rainstorm like none she had ever seen.
While everyone rushed to get out of the driving rain, Ronnie checked the stakes one more time before she moved on to the next section and the tentlike structures that had been erected over the freshly dug sites.
The rain soaked through her jeans, but her jacket, which was waterproof, helped to keep her upper body mostly dry. The way the wind lashed, the jacket couldn’t stop all of it.
And the droplets running down her face and head into the neck of her shirt were quickly drenching her.
As she checked one of the ropes of the structures covering a dig, another came loose of its knot and began to flap wildly in the wind.
Ronnie jumped for it, but it seemed to go higher, as if teasing her. Suddenly, a shadow loomed behind her as a large hand grabbed the rope.
She jerked around to find Arran. He blinked the rain out of his eyes, and with a nod, knelt to retie the rope. She didn’t watch him or the way the wet tee clung to his back so his muscles moved and bunched as he worked.
At least she tried not to.
It was difficult when he so big. She wasn’t a tiny person, but he made her feel that way.
She stepped back to put some distance between them when she tripped over one of the stakes. Her arms flailed wildly as she tried to keep her balance.
Suddenly, she was yanked against a rock-hard chest, looking up into Arran’s hooded eyes. One of his arms wrapped tightly around her while his other hand was splayed on her lower back, holding her against him.
Ronnie instinctively grabbed hold of him, the thick muscles beneath his wet shirt were warm and solid, his body unmovable, rigid. She blinked through the rain to find his face inches from hers. That tug she’d felt earlier reeled her in quickly, promptly.
Decisively.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, and her stomach fell to her feet as she found her lips parted, waiting expectantly for his kiss.
Her heart raced when she felt the hard ridge of his arousal against her stomach. Heat flooded between her legs, and her knees grew weak.
His arm tightened a fraction while his head lowered those last few inches. There was no way she could deny the kiss she knew was coming. And she didn’t want to.
His lids lifted so that golden eyes stared at her, desire blazi
ng for all to see. He pulled back a little, as if containing himself. “You need to be more careful, lass.”
He said lass as an endearment, soft and beckoning. It took a moment before Ronnie could release him because she didn’t trust her legs to hold her up. When she did, he gave her a slight nod and went back to tying down the tarps.
She didn’t know what she was more disappointed in—not getting his kiss, or having to relinquish her hold on him. She’d just thought his body amazing. Then she’d touched him, handled those wonderful muscles and felt his heat.
With both of them checking the rest of the structures, Ronnie was done in half the time, which was good, since her mind was full of Arran and the need still coursing through her. She motioned him to follow her as she ran to her tent, her boots splashing water with each step.
It wasn’t until she was inside her shelter and turned to watch him dip his wet head and step inside that she wondered what could have made her invite him in? Especially after their near kiss.
She had given in. He was the one who had kept it together. Maybe that’s why she felt safe enough with him. He wanted her. The evidence was there for her to see in the way his wet jeans molded to his thick erection, but he wouldn’t carry through with it.
No matter how handsome he was, dangerous was dangerous. Despite how much she argued with herself, she was intrigued by Arran.
It was a precarious and perilous game she played, but she was confident she wouldn’t make the same mistakes of her past.
That was, until Arran’s golden eyes fastened on her, then dropped to her breasts, which were outlined by her impossibly wet shirt and tank.
CHAPTER
THREE
Ronnie could have covered herself with her jacket. She could have turned away.
Instead, she stood completely still, as if daring him to touch her, to kiss her. To take everything that she was too afraid to offer herself.
The desire she saw in Arran’s eyes held her transfixed, captivated. A spark of hunger so raw, so visceral flashed in his depths that her breath caught, locked in her chest.
She was seized, held. Captured. All by the look of need in his golden eyes. When she dragged in a ragged breath, Ronnie could feel her body melting toward him.
