tell him about it. She soaked his strength up like a comforting blanket.
Worry etched his face. "Are you sure?
Renewed ire surfaced inside her. These men had fought over her, for God's sake.
How ridiculous. "I'm fine."
As she started to get up, he assisted by slipping his arm around her shoulders.
"Take it slow."
She moved from his solicitous grip and stared at both of the men with thinly veiled
exasperation. Grant regained his breath and slowly stood upright, his face red,
animosity narrowing his already small eyes. He threw nervous glances at the dog.
"Looks like you need a break, Wilder," Shane said, his tone low and flat.
Grant bent over to pick up his baseball cap, then turned and headed for his RV. "I
think it's about time the police heard about this bullshit."
Shane crossed his arms, as contemptuous as a teacher reprimanding a recalcitrant
child. "Go right ahead, Wilder."
"This is ridiculous," she said, following Grant. "Let's talk this out."
Grant opened the driver's side of the RV and climbed inside. "There's nothing more
to talk about."
Emma gripped the door handle and pulled off her hat. "Yes, there is. Don't bring
the law into this. We are on his land." She glanced at Shane as he petted his dog. She
lowered her voice almost to a whisper. "He has the right to kick us off if he wants."
Grant scowled, grabbed the driver's door and slammed it. He started the engine.
"I'm filing a complaint. He attacked me and so did his damned dog. If the motherfucker
wants a fight, he's got it." He glowered through the windshield at Shane who stood at
the edge of the pit, his arms crossed, watching them. "I'll be damned if he gets away
with ruining our project."
Emma shook her head, her indignation increasing. "Grant, you started the fight.
The dog was only protecting her master. What did you expect?"
He put the RV into drive. "Obviously you sympathize with his line of thinking, so
you can stay here or not. I don't care. If I were you, I'd give some thought about where
you're going to be employed next." Before she could ask what he meant, he gunned the
RV, working his way around Shane's truck, and with a roar of the engine, he traveled
down the road.
As she stared after the retreating RV, a million tumultuous feelings warred for
space in her overloaded thoughts. The importance of the site faded into the
background. A pounding ache started in her temples as the implications of his words
penetrated. Stress tightened the muscles across her shoulders. She took a deep breath to
try and steady her thoughts and release tension.
Shane remained with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression indefinable.
Charlie nosed Emma's sunglasses, which had fallen off when she'd landed on her
backside.
"Leave those alone, girl," Shane said to the dog, reaching down for the glasses and
handing them to Emma.
She hooked them into the neck of her shirt. "I hope you're satisfied."
"I'm satisfied Wilder will never pull a stunt like that again."
"There was no excuse for fighting."
He smirked. "No excuse? You're damned right. It pissed me off that he shoved me,
but I could have let that go. But there was no excuse for him to hit you."
She knew he was right. Even after Grant had shoved Shane twice and swung at
him, Shane hadn't gone after Grant until Grant had pushed her to the ground.
Still, she couldn't believe Grant meant to harm her. She shrugged her shoulders,
trying to work out the dull throb in her muscles. "It was an accident."
"Right," he said sarcastically. "He knew you were there and he pushed you to the
ground."
"And you wouldn't have done the same thing?"
She knew the minute she said the words that they were mean-spirited, but she
couldn't seem to hold back.
He bristled. "No. Wilder's a defensive, immature bastard."
"Just like you've been incredibly mature and helpful with our excavation."
His vexation seemed to expand as he closed his eyes then opened them and looked
into the distance for several seconds before returning his attention back to her. "Do you
have to work at being this much of a pain in the ass or does it come to you naturally?"
Emma gaped at him, astonished. She rearranged her baseball cap on her head,
turned away and headed for the Explorer.
"Wait," he called out.
She continued walking.
With his long-legged stride, he caught up to Emma then stopped in front of her. "I
said wait."
She crossed her arms. "Why should I?"
He took another deep breath and let it out slowly. "Would it help if I said I'm
sorry?"
"What?"
"I said, I'm sorry."
She read regret in his eyes and the firm line of his lips softened. She had an
irrational urge to reach up, tangle her fingers in the blue sheen of his black hair and pull
him to her for a kiss. She shoved the preposterous thought away.
When she said nothing, he reached out to clasp her shoulders. "Are you sure you're
not hurt?"
"I told you I'm okay," she said, but there was no force behind her words.
She couldn't assign the role of bad guy to him when he showed concern and when
the heat of his hands distracted her. He caressed her shoulders and the tenderness in
the gesture, his warm touch, eased some tightness from her muscles.
"I'm not sure about that. You're going to ache something awful in the morning," he
said.
His gaze slid over her hair then did a quick rush down her body and then up to her
lips. His attention fixated on her mouth in a way that surprised her. While his
assessment happened in a flash, she felt the burn all the way to her core. How did a
man this brutish manage to capture her attention in a way she didn't want?
"How do you know? Do you get in fights frequently?" she asked.
He stiffened and released her shoulders, a disturbance moving over his features like
a storm roaring over the mountains. "If he'd kept his hands off you, I wouldn't have
fought him."
She couldn't remember the last time a man had been protective of her, and the
feeling vacillated between strange and gratifying. His gaze softened. Her heart melted
at the warmth reflected in his eyes. "It's I who should apologize. It's just been a very
long time—I can't remember the last time—when a man was protective of me. Thank
you for being concerned."
"I find that hard to believe. Your father or a boyfriend has never wanted to protect
you?"
Emma shook her head, remembering the mental and physical pain she'd suffered
five years ago with an acuteness that threatened to rise up and swallow her. But no. She
had to keep a grip on the present. "My father's never been very…concerned. He's a cold
man."
His eyebrows went up. "I'm sorry."
She sighed. "Yeah. Me too."
She gently disengaged from his touch and walked toward the pit, stopping to scan
the area where Grant had worked. The dental tools remained where he'd dropped
them, so she retrieved them and put the items back in the box where Grant normally
kept his digging implements.
Shane's shoes crunched rocks under his feet as he followed her. She t
urned to face
him.
"I'm sorry I've been a pain in the ass," she said. "I just feel off. Like I need to hit the
reset button."
"Wilder is the one I'm upset with." He pulled the tie out of his hair then ran a hand
through the long dark fall, scattering it until it looked as if a mini tornado had twisted
it. "You acted like an adult. Which is a lot more than I can say for him."
His compliment pleased her, but she wished it didn't. She didn't want any of the
praise and concern he'd shown her because then she might start to enjoy the feeling.
She could be a friend with a man, but with Shane she knew friendship wouldn't be
enough. Perhaps impossible.
When she didn't respond, he said, "Why don't you stop for the day and come back
to the house? It's almost time for lunch and you need a rest."
The thought of food sounded delicious. She had an equal duty to the work at the
site. "Thanks, but I've got lunch in my car. I need to finish up some work." She brushed
some dust off her right sleeve. "I need all the time I can if I'm going to complete the job
in a week."
"Without Wilder?"
"Without him. Your uncle expects us to complete this project, and I won't
disappoint him."
"He'd understand if you didn't want to continue."
"You mean you'd understand. I don't give up on projects when there's a little
difficulty." When he said nothing, she pressed onward. "Or is that what you'd hoped?
That I'd buckle under the pressure and give up?"
She couldn't read the mysterious ocean-deep quality in his eyes. He put his hands
on his hips. "This isn't a little difficulty. Your boss wigged out on you. There are also
other complications you don't understand."
"Really? Then why don't you explain?"
"I can't."
"Fine." She turned back toward the pit. "Then I'm staying until I finish the job. And
I'll finish it with or without Grant."
He nodded. "Then I'm staying to help."
Reluctantly she accepted the idea. Getting rid of him didn't seem to be an option.
"All right."
"I brought a lunch with me." He gestured over to a small copse of trees. "We can
eat in the shade of those trees."
After she fetched lunch and water from the Explorer, Emma wandered over to the
trees and sat in the shade. The dog followed her and settled next to her. Tentatively she
reached out to caress the dog's silky head, and she received a quick lick on the hand.
"She likes you." Shane walked toward Emma, toting a small picnic basket. He eased
down beside her. Automatically she shifted to make room under the trees. "A kiss from
Charlie means she thinks you're cool."
"She's quite a watchdog." She caressed the dog's back. "I thought `Charlie' was
your girlfriend or your wife."
"I'm not married." He grinned and held her gaze intently. "And I prefer blondes to
brunettes."
Emma's breath hitched in her throat as she looked at him, a blush flowing up her
throat and into her face.
"I see," she said when she could get the words out without her voice cracking.
He chuckled and the deep, husky sound sent a stirring deep into her belly, where it
immediately spread downward. His chiseled lips and mischievous eyes left her feeling
breathless, but she returned his smile. His gaze traveled over her again in that probing,
lingering assessment that told her he liked what he saw and considered what it would
take to possess it. This is insane. I can't get involved with him.
He opened his picnic basket and brought out a dog bone for Charlie. When he
tossed it to the dog, she caught it cleanly in her sharp teeth and settled next to Emma to
chew on the snack.
Emma watched as he removed a sturdy plastic plate, plastic utensils, a small
container of potato salad, a large submarine sandwich and a couple of pieces of fruit.
Her lunch was minuscule in comparison.
"A feast," she said.
"I've tried limiting lunch to a sandwich but discovered that by the time I arrived
home at night I'm starving." He helped himself to half the sub sandwich and a generous
helping of potato salad. With a hard, masculine body like his, she knew he got plenty of
exercise.
As he chewed, she caught herself staring unabashedly at his profile. Her attention
fixated upon the sensual aspects of his face. His high cheekbones, the shape of his nose
that insinuated perhaps a smidgen of Native American heritage.
For a panicky second she didn't know what to say to him. Finally, she cleared her
throat. "I imagine a guy like you would need to eat quite a bit to keep moving."
"A guy like me?" He lifted one brow.
She took a swig of water before she responded. "Um…a large man."
"Yeah, I've found I've got quite an appetite," he drawled, his gaze drifting over her
face, her breasts and down her legs in one languorous sweep.
Whether he meant his words to have a double meaning she didn't know, but it fired
her imagination. Oh, yes. She could envision well his sexual appetite. Voracious.
Insatiable.
A silky tremor slid through her body as she visualized how he might make love to a
woman. She imagined he would take her quickly the first time, but she'd want him so
much, find herself so wet, that his assertive thrusts would spear her pussy with
pleasure and not pain. His cock would ram into her with steady strokes until she
screamed in satisfaction and mind-bending bliss. A few seconds into the fantasy her
skin flushed, and she had to swallow hard. Somehow she knew he'd be exquisitely
tender but ruthlessly passionate. Shane O'Donnell would make love like a man on a
mission, and he wouldn't stop until he'd searched every avenue…fulfilled every need.
He'd kiss with devastating thoroughness until breathing became rapid. He'd lavish
attention on her breasts and other regions that demanded attention. Each stroke would
bring the greatest pleasure until—
Whoa. Back up the truck, Emma. Part of her knew her reaction to him stemmed from
age-old caveman and cavewoman mentality. When a man displayed his protective
instincts, it set off primitive reactions and needs within the woman. Shane had tapped
into dormant threads in Emma she hadn't explored for years.
Her fantasy didn't mean anything earth-shattering.
With effort she returned to more serious thoughts. Like her job. The one she might
not have in the morning if Grant decided she should lose her position.
What a bastard he'd become.
Become?
No, he'd been this way all along. She'd just taken way too long to admit that he'd
started acting strangely long before this excavation. She couldn't expect a
recommendation letter from him. Grant's status in Colorado archaeology went high
enough, and he could give his word against hers. The sobering thought nagged at her as
she ate.
Crows flew over the area and cawed, and a light, hot breeze brushed through the
trees, caressing her face like a lover. The peace soothed her, though Shane's composure-
rattling presence kept sweet fantasies running through her head that no manner of
concentration seemed to remove.
Shane finished his sandwich and potato salad before he spoke again. "I think you
shoul
d be cautious around Wilder."
She looked at him sharply. "Cautious?"
"Has he ever manhandled you like that before?"
"It depends on what you mean by manhandled. If you mean has he ever pushed me
to the ground, no." She waited for him to say something more. He just stared at her.
Distinctly uncomfortable with his steady, unwavering gaze, she lost her appetite
and stuffed the rest of her sandwich back in her lunch bag. "If you're trying to make me
uncomfortable, you've succeeded."
His brows lifted. "That's interesting coming from you, Emma. You're not easily
frazzled."
"True."
"Then why are you afraid of me?"
"I'm not afraid of you." Of course she lied. Deep inside she acknowledged he
frightened her the way no man had ever scared her with his dark, dangerous looks and
his powerful aura of competence. More than that, his sheer physical presence
demanded acknowledgement. A person simply couldn't ignore Shane.
He shoved aside the hamper. "Actually I don't blame you for being scared of me.
Lots of people are. I've got the Sadie Cutley complex."
"What on earth is the Sadie Cutley complex?"
He drew his legs up and loosely linked his arms around his knees, grasping one
wrist in the other hand. The dark hair on his arms and his large, well-shaped hands
appealed to her. Everything about him seemed solid and dependable. She waited
patiently for him to speak.
He looked into the distance. "Sadie was a hermit."
"Yes, but you're not."
"Doesn't matter. I spend a lot of time alone. Some people think enjoying my own
company is abnormal, like a disease. Like Sadie I've found that people are a lot less
interesting than my land."
She pondered his words carefully. "Honestly? You think people are boring?"
He shrugged. "Many people are. Not everyone. Take you for example." His gaze
swung to her, hot and attentive. "You're definitely not dull."
She smiled. "Thanks. I think."
"Take it as a compliment." His attention snared her, and Emma couldn't look away.
"You're intelligent, kind, cautious. Maybe a shade inhibited."
Indignant, she felt a flush steal into her face. Denial parted her lips. "I am not
inhibited. Besides, I think men use that as a line when it's convenient for them." She
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