Hawk and the Cougar

by Tarah Scott

  “Soon enough.” He made a slow turn out of the aisle. “What’s this about me staying away from Emma Williams?”

  “I know about the two of you.”

  “What do you know?”

  “I know you have a relationship with her.”

  His attention remained straight ahead as he slowed for the exit. “I don’t sleep with my students.”

  “I didn’t expect you to tell the truth.”

  “What’s Emma to you?”

  “She’s my daughter.”

  He turned in her direction and raked his gaze down her in a quick, but thorough appraisal. “Yeah, she’s a wonder kid, only seventeen, but I wouldn’t have pegged you for forty.”

  “I’m not,” Liz snapped.

  A corner of his mouth twitched. “No need to feel insulted. I said you looked younger.”

  She wasn’t younger, but was in no mood to explain—didn’t want to explain—which only infuriated her more. “You’re a real sweet talker,” she muttered.

  He laughed, a deep, rich laugh that filled the small space. “Cut me some slack. You caught me on a bad day.” He stopped at the street and looked left, then right.

  “You can let me out here,” she said.

  “Where’s your car?”

  Liz gave him a wary look.

  “I’m not leaving you here. If those assholes come back, you don’t want them making another run at you. They might not give up so easily.”

  A tremor flipped her stomach. “Who are they?”

  He turned left onto the street and released a slow breath. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have lousy timing?”

  “What?”

  He looked at her. “You picked the wrong day to play mother hen, sweetheart.”

  Chapter Two

  The dark-haired beauty sitting beside him did have lousy timing. They should be in a candlelit room, where they would dance well into the night before he took her back to his place to make love until dawn. But she’d picked tonight to accuse him of sleeping with her daughter. He preferred the mother. His cock pulsed with the erotic picture of the full-bodied brunette beneath him as he brought her to climax with sure, slow thrusts.

  How badly had he fucked up his chances of getting her into that position? When he’d seen her in his class, he pegged her as Reid’s second attempt to buy him with a high-priced call girl. The half a dozen young women who had been at the one and only meeting Hawk had agreed to with Reid couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. Hawk had figured this woman was Reid’s response to Hawk’s comment that he didn’t rob the cradle.

  Hawk looked at her, careful to keep his eyes on her face and not the breasts that strained against the white T-shirt she wore. “Who told you I have a…relationship with your daughter?”

  She hesitated.

  “Can’t be Emma,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “She strikes me as an honest kid.”

  She gave a deprecating laugh. “You’re good.”

  “Emma didn’t say we were having an affair. Did she?”

  Even in the dim streetlight, Hawk didn’t miss the tinge of red colouring her cheeks. He’d seen too many young female students vie for his attention to believe Emma Williams had lied about their relationship. Despite the fact she was only an undergrad, Hawk had already assigned her senior projects. Had the mother read more into his actions than enthusiasm on his part to take a talented student under his wing and advise her through the PhD process?

  Hawk slowed and downshifted as he turned left into the building’s front parking lot. “When you get home, talk to your daughter. If there’s any further misunderstanding, come see me.”

  “I’ll be seeing you, all right, in the dean’s office—then the police station.”

  The dean’s office would be for her daughter. The police station would be for nearly assaulting her. Yep, he’d fucked up. “Where are you parked?” he asked.

  “The north side of the lot—the blue Land Cruiser.”

  He pulled the truck around and slipped into park behind the older Toyota. She reached for the door.

  “I thought Reid sent you.”

  “Reid who?”

  “Vance Reid,” Hawk replied.

  Recognition flickered across her face. “The land developer?”

  He nodded. “Those were his boys who nearly ran you down.”

  She studied him. “What do they want?”

  “They want me to say a dig outside Mesa is Navajo.”

  “Why should he care about one more Navajo site? There are loads of them. And what’s that have to do with me?”

  “Reid likes to sweeten the pot. I mistook you for one of the sweets.”

  She frowned, then her mouth dropped open. “Sweets? You think I’m a—?” She clapped a hand over her mouth, and Hawk did a double take upon realising she was stifling laughter.

  “Most women would be insulted,” he said.

  The hand dropped away from her mouth. “I am.” The obvious tightening of her lips against more laughter belied her words. “That’s a terrible thing to say. I don’t dress like a hooker.”

  “I didn’t say hooker. High-priced call girl.”

  “There’s no difference.”

  “There’s a huge difference.”

  She snorted. “Sure, and a multi-millionaire really is trying to kill you.”

  “That was four tons of steel coming at you,” Hawk said, all humour gone. “I’d say they were trying to kill you.”

  Her eyes widened, and he should have regretted her fear, but didn’t. The last thing he wanted was her thinking he played chicken for fun.

  He leaned past her to the glove box. She jerked back into the corner as if he were a rattler. He paused and shifted his gaze to hers. Liz lifted her chin, and he resisted a smile. With some time, he’d find out what that fire felt like when he slid inside her. His body clenched at the thought of her walls tightening around him in climax. Damn it, he was two seconds away from making an even bigger fool of himself than he already had. Hawk opened the glove box, pulled a card from those he’d thrown inside, then pushed it closed.

  He straightened and extended the card to her. “After you’ve spoken with Emma, give me a call. She’s a talented student. I don’t want to lose her.” And he sure as hell didn’t like this misunderstanding.

  She grasped the card, but he didn’t release it. “What’s your name?”

  She hesitated. “Elizabeth.”

  Hawk released the card. “I’ll wait until you’re in your car.”

  She stared for a moment and he thought she’d say something, but she got out of the truck without a word.

  * * * *

  Liz reached across the kitchen table and clasped her daughter’s hand. Last night, while Liz had paid her visit to the university, Emma had returned home with a cold. Liz hadn’t known she was there until she’d appeared in the kitchen twenty minutes ago.

  “I’m not mad,” Liz said. “You’re young. He’s older, and knows better.” Liz recalled Professor Hawkins’ cool composure when she’d accused him of sleeping with Emma. “The man is a cool character.”

  “What do you mean he’s a cool character?” Emma’s eyes widened. “Oh, Mom, you didn’t—”

  “Em, I couldn’t take the chance he would use the dig as an opportunity to manipulate you.”

  Emma stared. “You went to my professor and accused him of fucking me?”

  “Emma.”

  Emma wiped her stuffy nose with the tissue she gripped. “I don’t believe this.”

  “I never said that,” Liz insisted.

  “It’s what you meant. Professor Hawkins has never looked at me the wrong way, much less slept with me. He wouldn’t go for it, even if I wanted to.”

  “The guy is young and gorgeous. You’re telling me he would resist a young woman like you?”

  “I’m really surprised at you, Mom. If we were talking about a beautiful female professor, would you say that?”

  “
It’s not the same,” Liz said.

  “Oh, my God. My mother is a sexist.”

  Liz hadn’t forgotten Professor Hawkins’ calm insistence that she talk to Emma, then talk to him. How many guilty men would have been so composed? She also remembered the confession that he’d thought she was a hooker. No, a ‘high-priced call girl’. That would account for the way he’d backed her against the truck and kissed her.

  Kissed her? The memory of nearly getting run over by the SUV mingled with the recollection of his steel arms around her when he’d pulled her to safety, and her nipples tightened as they had last night. Which was he; letch or hero? That question—and the memory of his hard body pressed against her—had kept her awake half the night. Was it really possible he was a hero?

  “You’re not protecting him?” Liz persisted.

  “I know better than to sleep with my professors.” Emma slumped in her chair. “I’m quitting the class.”

  Liz’s heart twisted. “No way. He said you were a talented student. He doesn’t want to lose you.”

  Emma eyed her doubtfully. “He said that?”

  “He did.”

  “You’re making that up so I won’t be mad at you.”

  “Emma Louise Williams, you know I wouldn’t lie.”

  She snorted through a stuffy nose. “I thought I knew you wouldn’t accuse my professor of—”

  “Emma!” Liz pinned her daughter with a hard stare. “Tell me something, young lady.”

  Emma groaned.

  “Don’t roll your eyes at me. I’m sorry. I screwed up, I admit it, but don’t act like I went off half-cocked without good cause.”

  Em’s mouth fell open. “Good cause? He’s my professor. He’s old.”

  “You’re telling me you never noticed how gorgeous he is?”

  Emma’s gaze sharpened. “You think he’s gorgeous?”

  “I’m old, not blind.”

  Emma rolled her eyes again. “Forty-four isn’t old.”

  “You just said he was old. I’m ancient compared to him.”

  “He’s old for me. Not you.”

  Liz blinked. “What?”

  A knowing look entered her daughter’s eyes. “What made you think we had a thing?”

  Heat flooded Liz’s cheeks. “Don’t change the subject.”

  “You first, Mom. You made this mess.”

  Liz started to argue, but she was right. “I heard you on the phone.”

  “Eavesdropping and butting into my business,” Emma said. “Where does it end, young lady?”

  Liz gave her a deprecating look. “Don’t get carried away. From my end, the conversation sounded pretty incriminating. Talk of how gorgeous he is, and what a great relationship you have.”

  “We do, as professor and student. He’s an amazing teacher.”

  “I’m so sorry, Em, but you can’t fully blame me. You were talking about how good he is in bed.” Emma’s mouth twisted into a disgusted look, and Liz added before she could reply, “You said he was perfect.”

  “Perfect for you.”

  Liz stared. “He’s got to be at least fifteen years younger than me.”

  “Twelve.”

  “And the difference is…?”

  Emma rose. “In your mind.”

  Chapter Three

  Liz turned a bend on the dirt road that wound through the Matatzal foothills and spotted Professor Anthony Hawkins’ green Chevy parked amongst half a dozen other vehicles a quarter of a mile up ahead. She slowed and turned off the road. His assistant had said he would be at the dig all day, and Liz hadn’t wanted to wait to apologise and make sure he wouldn’t hold her stupidity against Emma.

  The driver’s side of the Chevy came into view and she hit the brakes, eyes glued to the dent in the side of the truck bed. Her stomach knotted. The eight thousand pounds of steel that had created that damage had careened across the parking lot towards her last night. If Professor Hawkins hadn’t pulled her out of the way, the mammoth vehicle would have mown her down. He’d put his life on the line to save her, despite the fact that she’d accused him of seducing her daughter. She’d made a real mess of things.

  Liz willed her pounding heart to slow as she pulled the Land Cruiser to a stop beside a Subaru Forester fifty feet from where the desert floor sloped downward out of sight. The dig had to be taking place somewhere beyond the edge. She cut the engine and gazed through the windshield at clouds that hung low over the higher peaks in the distance. A group of tall rocks, up ahead on the left, rose as if they’d speared through the Earth’s surface. She had lived her entire life in Arizona and never grew tired of the stark beauty. Yellow, spring wildflowers grew in spurts amongst the pale green brush, and saguaro cacti stood sentinel throughout the jagged landscape, as they had for aeons.

  Liz released a breath. She couldn’t admire the view all day. “He asked you to talk to him after you spoke with Em. You owe him and Emma at least that much.” She reached for the keys and realised her fingers were trembling. “Get a hold of yourself. He’s a young man—too young for you—and he isn’t interested in you.”

  The admonition didn’t wipe away the memory of his warm breath on her face, or the way he’d almost kissed her in the truck. Almost, was the key word. He hadn’t. His rough kiss before that had been because he’d thought Vance Reid had sent her to seduce him, and he’d been mad as hell. A shiver sped down her arms. How did a woman go about seducing a man like him? She jarred from the thought. By being fifteen years younger, for starters. Em had good intentions, but she didn’t realise that it wasn’t just Liz’s perspective that counted, but Professor Hawkins’ as well.

  She got out of the car and caught sight of someone before they disappeared out of sight around the large rocks. Liz slowed, suddenly unsure she could face him. She’d made fool enough of herself last night. If anyone guessed her attraction to him and word reached Emma…

  Get it over with. Apologise, assure him he’ll never see you again, then go home and have a strong drink.

  Liz walked to where the ground sloped and stopped. A hundred feet up ahead, half a dozen people knelt or squatted among different sections that were separated by twine over a tenth of an acre. Hints of three structures were visible in the earth. Trowels, root cutters, wooden picks, shovels and spades were scattered or in use. Mesh wire boxes were set up for sifting through dirt. She caught sight of Professor Hawkins lying on his stomach, intent on something he was carefully uncovering with a small brush.

  Despite Liz’s best efforts, her pulse picked up speed. Dark curls stuck out in a tussled mass below the worn felt cowboy hat he wore. His cotton shirt was rolled up to his forearms, and his long legs seemed to go on forever in tight blue jeans heavy with desert dust. His ass—good Lord, she wasn’t going to be able to do this. He hadn’t even looked in her direction and already she was melting like a sixteen-year-old, and her panties were wet with more than just the sweat the Arizona sun could generate, even in spring.

  Of course, he looked up. His gaze met hers and he broke into a smile. Her heart stopped. She really wasn’t going to get through this. He shoved to his feet and stepped over the twine. Liz started down the hill toward him, then groaned inwardly at the realisation that she should have waited for him at the top. That would have been noncommittal. She could have said her piece, then left. But she’d started this downward spiral—now she had to crash and burn. They met at the bottom of the incline.

  “I’m relieved to see you,” he said.

  She blinked against the glare of the late morning sun. Why hadn’t she worn sunglasses? What better way to hide? “I’ve come to apologise.”

  A corner of his mouth lifted. “No need. Emma’s young to be in undergraduate school. It’s a jungle. You’re right to look after her.”

  “Thanks, but I should have talked to her before doing battle. She made that abundantly clear.” Liz silently berated herself for the thousandth time. That would teach her to eavesdrop. “Emma’s threatening to drop out of your class.”
<
br />   “She’s a smart kid. Surely she understands your mistake?”

  “Oh, she understands, all right.”

  A question flickered across his face, and Liz cursed her big mouth when he laughed. “She figured out how it went, huh?”

  Liz nodded. “Like you said, she’s a smart kid. Too smart, sometimes.”

  “Professor,” a young man called.

  He looked over his shoulder.

  “Come take a look at this,” the young man said.

  Professor Hawkins motioned for her to walk with him. They started forward.

  “I’ll talk to Emma,” he said. “She doesn’t have to take my class, but this is a tough field and she’s doing herself a big favour by staying ahead of the game.”

  “What do you mean, she doesn’t have to take your class?”

  “My class is a graduate course.”

  “Good Lord.”

  “You didn’t know?”

  Liz gave a soft laugh. “She left me in the dust long ago.”

  “You obviously did a good job with her.”

  “Or she did a good job with me.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t let her know that.”

  They reached the young man, and Professor Hawkins dropped to a squat outside the roped off section, beside a round discolouration in the even soil where the ground had been levelled.

  “A bioturbation,” Liz said.

  He looked up. “Very good.” His attention shifted back to the ground. “Log and photograph the bioturbation, then continue digging around it. Let me know if you find any more.”

  The kid nodded, and Professor Hawkins rose. He lightly grasped her arm and stepped several feet away from the section the young man was working.

  He released her. “Did you study archaeology?”

  She shook her head. “Em and I have been on several digs together.”

  “Sounds as if you enjoyed it.”

  “I did. I’d love to do more. But these days she’s so busy with school, there’s not much time.”

  “Why not join in here?”

  Liz blinked. “I—I don’t know.”

  “Do you have any place to be?”