foam still residing on the top of the beer.
"What were you going to say when you saw him? Were you going to make sure
you still had a job?"
"I'm not sure."
"He's violent and it's not safe for you to be around him. You don't deserve to be
treated that way."
Emma took another sip of her drink, pleasure at his words warming her heart. She
looked up into the heat of his eyes and felt a stirring of desire deep in her loins.
He leaned toward her, his gaze riveted to hers. "Any man with half a brain would
cherish you. Want to protect you."
She felt edgy now but not in a bad way. Instead the concentrated way he looked at
her, with an intensity that turned her thoughts toward kissing him, being held in his
arms, threatened to unravel all her resistance. She cleared her throat. "Officer Reddins
told me Grant was the one worried about you hurting me."
"You know that's not true now, right?"
She nodded. "Yes."
He moved toward her again, this time shifting on the seat so that he practically
touched her. As he leaned his arm on the table in front of her she felt the burn of his
stare.
Strange electricity arced between her and Shane. His reactions, the emotions that
played over his face, fascinated her, provoked her to challenge him. The strange fire in
his eyes drew her until she found herself inclined slightly closer, eliminating some of
the space she'd put between them moments ago. She inhaled his warm, musk scent. The
masculine aroma tantalized her.
With his face close to hers, she knew what they appeared to be if anyone looked
their way. Lovers.
"What did Reddins say about me?" Shane asked.
"He said you are unpredictable."
He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Figures."
"You keep yourself hidden away on your ranch, you don't socialize much."
"Does that make me dangerous?"
"Of course not."
"He's had it in for me ever since he started with the police department. I got a ticket
from him once and he was obnoxious as hell."
"I suppose you were speeding."
He made a face at her. "Yeah, I was speeding. But there was no reason for him to be
uncivil. I certainly didn't give him any trouble. The guy practically threatened to run
me in for driving five miles over."
She almost laughed. "Only five?"
Emma balanced what Reddins had hinted at about Shane's character but hadn't
revealed, and Shane's protests that Reddins meant to chew him up and spit him out.
Before she could speak Shane whispered, "You don't even know him well and yet
you're willing to take his word over mine."
"Shane, how do you expect me to trust you when you won't come clean with me?
Clear communication is the only way things work. That's part of the reason you and
Grant came to blows. Lack of communication."
"Bull. I'll tell you what's wrong. Wilder is frustrated. He wants you and you don't
want him. On top of that, he's up to something. And I'm damn sure going to find out
what it is."
The music changed to a slow country tune and couples entered the dance floor.
She glanced at her watch. Almost ten o'clock. She needed sleep for an early start
tomorrow. "It's late. I'm going to see Grant, then recheck into the hotel."
He reached for her hand and enveloped it in his warm, large palm.
"Don't go," he said, barely loud enough for her to hear over the music.
Warm excitement darted through her as the heat of his gaze mesmerized her.
Shocked by his touch and his request, she didn't move.
"Dance with me," he said.
* * *
Chapter Eight
Emma stared at Shane and then swallowed hard. If she went into his arms right
now, she knew it would be difficult to leave…impossible to ignore her attraction for the
enigmatic, sexy man. Emma felt, in those few seconds as Shane led her onto the dance
floor, that she'd borrowed a dream from a movie where all things became possible.
So much in her life was cloaked in shadows and the ruins she worked on from
excavation to excavation.
She clung to few things in life. Possessions didn't mean much to her, other than her
books. She figured attachment to things, whether objects or people, brought nothing but
pain. This minute, though, she'd found a fantasy and wanted to indulge this one time.
In this fantasy Shane told her the truth and didn't hide anything from her. Grant
hadn't stated that she might lose her job. She'd found Sadie's treasure. And the man
holding her hand honestly cared for her.
Shane eased her out of the booth and before she knew it, he'd found a niche in the
crowd. He gathered her right hand into his left. Tentatively she rested her other hand
on his shoulder. She tingled deep inside as the warmth of his hard muscles moved
under her fingers. He urged her close, his arm bringing her hips near his.
The lights dimmed. As they moved with the music, she closed her eyes and let the
song take her away. A sweet intoxication that had nothing to do with alcohol filled her
body as she took in a deep breath. God, the man smelled so good it had to be a sin. As
he swayed, moving her against him, she relished the heady, sensual pleasure. For the
time she had, however long, she would enjoy his embrace and admit that she did feel a
raw, potent attraction to him.
But it couldn't be more than physical. She couldn't trust him, and perhaps he was
up to something criminal. A female country singer crooned something about blues and
feeling used. Emma worried that if she continued to dance with Shane she'd have all of
those symptoms and more.
As the song reached a crescendo, a lump grew steadily in her throat and she took a
deep breath to shove the sensation back down. Unfortunately, the lump threatened to
strangle her. Today she'd lost control in several areas. Anger, fear…desire. She hadn't
expected this upsurge of emotion, perhaps brought on by Shane's embrace or the events
of the long day. The warmth from his body seeped into her, the heat a welcome comfort
that flowed over her limbs like a blanket. At first she couldn't look at him, afraid of
what she might see in his eyes. If she saw gentleness there she'd lose more inhibitions
than she could afford to relinquish.
He leaned down until he could whisper in her ear. "Are you all right?"
Shane's warm breath tickled her ear and an answering glow heated her stomach.
She fingered the hair at the back of his neck, reveling in the silkiness against her skin.
Raw awareness tugged at her, demanded complete capitulation. When she realized
what she was doing, she stopped.
Her mouth went dry and when he brought her closer, she whispered back, "This is
crazy."
"What's crazy?"
"We can't…"
"Can't what?" he said huskily. "Hold each other?"
"You don't even like me."
"Whatever gave you the idea I don't like you?" He tugged her closer and she felt
the solid evidence of his hard cock against her belly. "Does that feel like I don't like
you? Believe me, my cock doesn't get hard for women I dislike."
Her face flamed.
As the song ended she stopped and gazed up at him as couples left the floor and
/> others remained. Another song started, mellow and yearning, and his gaze locked with
hers, the question lingering in his eyes. He moved her into another slow dance.
He pulled her even nearer, wrapping both arms around her waist. Oh, no. No. If he
presses me any closer I'll be tempted to do and say things I shouldn't. The power she felt in his
arms didn't frighten her…it thrilled her in ways she'd never experienced before.
His hands did a gentle caress across her back, and the caresses made her shiver
delicately as he plucked at her senses with gentle attention. Her skin burned with a
need to feel naked flesh against naked flesh. To experience the force behind this
overwhelming, gnawing fever that rocked her from within.
"I think you're fascinating, Emma. I can't remember the last time I met a woman
who had so many sides." He trailed one hand down from her waist so that it cupped
her hip, riding dangerously close to her butt. "You have a soft exterior. Then you open
your mouth and prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that you're tough."
She smiled. "Thanks. You make me sound like old shoe leather."
"No. You're like a diamond. Facet upon facet. Somewhere in that complexity is the
real Emma Baker."
His words unraveled her bit by bit. She'd never guessed that he had this depth of
understanding within him.
"I never knew you were a poet," she said, trying to elevate the conversation into
something less heavy.
"As you said, there's a lot you don't know about me."
"Let's get right down to it."
"Mmmmmm." His eyes turned slumberous. "Be careful how you say that. I might
take you up on it."
At his suggestive statement, she trembled and wondered if he'd felt the involuntary
shudder.
Choosing to ignore the innuendo, she said, "Don't you think it would help if you let
me in on what is happening at the site? You've been suspicious of our motives since we
started excavating. And I don't think it has anything to do with your reclusive urges."
She kept firm eye contact. "Is it something illegal?"
"I can't tell you."
The temptation to stalk out of the bar in a huff almost overwhelmed her. The other
half, though, was too curious to roll over and play dead. "Tell me what's going on,
Shane. You can't expect me to turn away and not understand exactly why I'm doing it."
The warmth left his expression, and she wished for it back.
"Trust me," he said.
The song hadn't finished, but she moved from his arms. "We've had this
conversation before, and I don't believe in running in circles. There's no point in
continuing. If you don't trust me enough to tell me what's happening, then I'm not
obligated to trust you."
She wove her way through the thick crowd of people, hoping he wouldn't follow
her. When he didn't pursue, she convinced herself that it didn't matter.
* * * * *
Emma sat in her car and wondered if she had made a big mistake waiting for Grant
to return to his RV. She flicked on her small flashlight and glanced at her watch. Almost
eleven thirty and he hadn't returned.
She'd give him fifteen more minutes. After that she'd head back to the hotel. She
glanced through the windshield at the night sky as clouds scuttled over the full moon
and darkened the almost unsettling landscape. A large campground, it afforded plenty
of isolation for each RV or campsite. Grant had chosen a spot far into the grounds. Few
campers were here now, so he nearly had the place to himself. Surrounded by trees,
with ample brush around, his spot gave plenty of privacy.
Within seconds a relentless rain came down, drumming on the roof of her vehicle
and drowning out other sounds.
Water obscured the windshield and she cracked the window to let in fresh air. The
sooner Grant got his butt back to the RV, the sooner she could talk with him and finish
with the whole mess. Better to hit things head on.
Fired.
The word bounced in her mind like a yo-yo. She knew what her father would say.
He'd say it proved that a woman couldn't do the job. She snorted. At every site she'd
worked on the head archaeologist had nothing but praise for her work. Yet her father's
opinion of her abilities never changed.
When Grant had told her that they'd been hired to hunt for Sadie Cutley's treasure,
she knew what her father would say. Poppycock. As far as dear daddy was concerned,
the only place a true archaeologist could make a name would be in exotic places like
Egypt.
Old self-loathing gathered inside her. She'd spent too many years running around
the globe trying to impress her father and trying to forget Doug and the other horrible
event that seemed to have shattered her ability to trust men.
"Damn it," she said, irritated by her mind's determination to dwell on things she
wanted to forget.
She turned her thoughts back to Grant and what he'd done with the artifact he'd
extricated from the pit when Shane had arrived that afternoon. She'd never seen him
pocket an artifact before. She'd have to confront him. While she'd always felt a little
distrust in her for the archaeologist, she'd never imagined his wild behavior earlier.
Her mind abruptly switched to Shane.
Shane. Well, now there was different animal all together. She closed her eyes for a few
seconds and imagined his touch again. His hand at her waist, then his fingers cupping
her ass, his kiss ravenous and searching. Dancing with him had tortured her in ways
she didn't know a woman could be tortured. Sensual, arousing, crazy-making desire
had fractured her into two women. The one who wanted to mistrust him, and the
woman who wanted to jump into his bed and fuck him.
"Admit it, Emma." She sighed. "You want to fuck his brains out."
If she hadn't known it earlier, dancing with him cemented the facts. Now, if she
could remain unemotional, she could call him up and suggest they do the two-backed
beast and she knew he'd take her up on it without blinking. But no. She didn't do
unemotional attachments with sex as a side trip.
Gradually the rain subsided until only a few drops splattered on the vehicle.
Clouds shifted, allowing the huge full moon to shine once more through the towering
ponderosas, trailing bright ribbons of light over the ground. Instead of giving her
reassurance, the silver light imbued the area with a surreal glow.
As she skulked in the dark like a private eye in a mystery movie, she chided herself
for seeing ghosts around every corner. Paranoia.
Shane O'Donnell was distrustful and had a complex about people taking advantage
of him. She'd let herself get caught up in his mood. Yet even as she dismissed her
apprehensions as particles of imagination, she wondered why he'd chosen to come out
of his own reclusive shadow long enough to spend time with her, dance with her. To
warn her repeatedly away from Grant.
Bull. She refused to worry or think about it anymore. Soon she'd finish with the
excavation and then she'd be out of there. Back to Denver and probably on another job
search. Away from Shane's sheer animal magnetism.
Ready to give up on Grant, she reached into the glove compartment for pen and
paper. She'd attach a note to the R
V door and leave. Emma scribbled a note, got out of
the SUV and trudged the few feet toward the RV door.
Wait.
The door stood open about a centimeter.
Apprehension skittered thorough her limbs in a cold wave. Instead of backing
away, as every cell in her body warned her to do, she reached for the door. Uneasiness
jumbled her insides in a nauseating twist. What if something had happened to Grant
and he needed help?
Her fingers trembled as the door swung wide. Even with the glow of moonlight, the
darkness obscured her view. A soft whooshing noise came directly behind her. Without
warning, a violent shove between the shoulder blades sent her into the side of the RV,
and her head hit the hard shell. Pain detonated in her skull. Stunned, she sagged to her
knees as she grabbed onto the side of the RV for support.
The world receded, fading to black.
What seemed seconds later she felt herself surface from a murky haze, only to feel it
threaten to close over her brain once again.
Still on her knees and leaning against the RV, she shook her aching head.
Someone's harsh breathing, shuffling sounds, then footsteps moving away. Seconds
later darkness claimed her.
* * * * *
A dull, unmerciful pounding hammered at Emma's skull and she opened her eyes.
She blinked as she realized she lay on her back in the muddy earth. Something warm
trickled down the side of her face, and she reached up to feel the left side of her head.
Moisture seeped through her fingers and down her palm. It must still be raining. No.
The sky above her danced with stars.
A tiny pinprick of panic zinged through her body.
Blood.
She licked her lips. She heard a car engine as a vehicle crept down the rough road.
Weakly she rolled to her right side.
Sticky matter clung to her hair and on her hands. "Oh, gross, Emma. What did you
get yourself into?"
She winced. Even talking made her head pound harder. Through the haze in her
mind she saw a vehicle pulled up next to her Explorer.
Fear launched into her as memory resurfaced with a vengeance. An assailant. Some
asshole had shoved her into the side of the RV. Maybe they had come back to finish her
Shadows and Ruins Page 14
