Читать книгу Her Passionate Pirate - Neesa Hart - Страница 11

It’s her fire I find irresistible. After so many nights with naught but the cold sea for company, I find such rapturous warmth in her arms. She may consume me, but what a blissful demise!

Juan Rodriguez del Flores

Captain’s Log, 9 December 1860

Jerry Heath, Rafael decided, was an idiot.

The man had deliberately allowed him to believe that Cora Prescott was some prudish college professor he could simply bowl over with a good dose of charm. Rafael had suspected from Jerry’s poorly veiled hostility that he found Cora threatening. Now that he’d met her, he knew exactly why. Cora was twice the researcher and a hundred times the person Jerry Heath would ever be.

“Well,” Jerry said, seating himself in Cora’s recently vacated chair, “what do you think now that you’ve met the inimitable Cora Prescott?”

Good question, Rafael thought as he quickly reconciled his impressions of her with his previous expectations. There was a wealth of treasure to find beneath her facade, of that he was sure. But something—or someone—had put that distrustful, slightly wounded look in her eyes. For a man who’d spent a lifetime carefully unearthing priceless antiquities, the challenge of discovering Cora’s secret was irresistible. He glared at Jerry. “You set me up, Jerry.”

“I did not. I gave you every warning that you didn’t know what you were getting into when you decided to take on Cora. She’s the stubbornnest woman I’ve ever known. I’d be surprised if you got past go with her.”

“Is that why you practically blackmailed her into accepting my offer?”

Jerry bristled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Rafael scowled at him. “Playing the tenure card? That was a cheap shot.”

“Cora can take care of herself, believe me.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

Jerry nodded. “She’d like to be department head.”

And she’d be good at it, Rafael thought. No wonder Jerry seemed intent on keeping her in her place. At his age, he was nearing the end of his academic career. Bright new talent scared him. A woman like Cora Prescott probably left him cowering in the corner. Rafael carefully considered all that Cora had said to him. “She’s brilliant.”

“She’s extremely respected in her field,” Jerry acknowledged.

Praise, Rafael realized, but not unqualified. His opinion of Jerry Heath slipped another notch. “So why didn’t you tell me about the whole package?”

Jerry swiveled back and forth in the worn leather chair. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Rafael gave him a knowing look. “Like hell.”

“I don’t.”

“Then you’re older than I thought,” Rafael said.

Jerry stared at him another few seconds, then understanding dawned in his eyes. He let out a low whistle. “My God. You can’t mean you’re thinking of seducing Cora Prescott.”

Rafael lifted his eyebrows. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I’ve known you a long time. And I know that look you get. It’s the same one you get when you think you’re on the cusp of an important find.”

“You’re being melodramatic.”

“Maybe. Still, you’ll have to take my word on this. She’s not that type of woman. She’s not your type of woman.” Jerry shook his head. “Believe me, other men have tried and failed, and it won’t work. She’s cold as an iceberg. I’m not entirely certain she’s interested in men, if you know what I mean.”

Rafael let that pass without comment. He made a practice of not wasting his time on fools.

Jerry reached for the phone on Cora’s desk. “Look, why don’t you get settled into your hotel, then let Patty and me take you to dinner.” He punched a few numbers. “We can talk about old times.”

Rafael thought it over. As much as he loathed the idea of an extended stay in Jerry’s presence, he genuinely liked Patty Heath. A widely published author and lecturer on ancient Greek culture, Patty could not only provide interesting dinner conversation, but also, he hoped, better insight into Cora Prescott. “I’d love to,” he answered.

“Great. Patty’s been dying to pick your brain about the Argo project.” Jerry finished dialing. While he talked to his wife, Rafael mentally recalculated his strategy for gaining Cora Prescott’s cooperation.

Even Jerry couldn’t be naive enough to think that the aloof mask she wore reflected her true nature. Granted, she had the look down to a science. Tortoiseshell glasses. Hair in a neat French braid. Intelligent eyes set in a classic oval face. She even wore the costume of the conservative academic. Her tailored blouse and simple straight skirt were a timeless style. Most professors wore jeans and T-shirts to class. Cora could have stepped right out of another age.

But that was where it ended. There was absolutely nothing about the woman that didn’t scream of undiscovered passion. Or that didn’t beg for masculine attention. The less observant of the male species, he supposed, might miss it, but what Rafael saw was an underlying edge of raw sensuality that had him struggling for balance.

Some men, he knew, looked at a woman and saw the sum total of her parts. If the balance sheet didn’t tip in their favor, they never bothered to look deeper. He, however, had found that such a superficial examination was generally misleading. Cora Prescott wasn’t classically beautiful or even modernly sexy. She’d never make the cover of a men’s magazine, but then, he’d always preferred the subtle to the blatant.

In her, he saw something sensual and alluring. A huge part of the appeal, he knew, was her intelligence. He liked that in a lover. But the physical package complemented her mental assets. Perhaps it was the curve of her ear or the way stray tendrils of soft brown hair caressed the nape of her neck. It could be the long sweep of her arm from the juncture of her collarbone to the tips of her slender fingers. The way she moved enticed him. Her waist flared into softly rounded hips. Long shapely legs melded into well-turned ankles. The tailored cut of her blouse had done little to disguise the curves of her breasts. Her clothes floated on her skin like the whisper of a summer breeze.

He had a feeling that when he touched her, it would be like coaxing music from a fine instrument. Cora had the look of a woman who knew her worth. She valued herself too much to waste her energy on men who couldn’t appreciate the rare nature of her character and appeal. Like Sleeping Beauty, he mused, she had allowed her passion to remain dormant, rather than squander it on the undeserving.

That idea had him instantly and potently aroused. The realization hit him like a blow to the head. He wanted Cora Prescott, and he couldn’t remember having this strong thirst for possession for anything other than a sunken ship. But Cora was no relic, and his first encounter with her had sent exhilaration pumping through him. It sent his lingering exhaustion from jet lag and the post-Argo whirlwind tumbling off into orbit. In its place was a growing hunger for discovery.

He took several long moments to revel in the sensation. With del Flores’s ship finally within reach and the tantalizing prospect of unraveling all of Cora Prescott’s mysteries, he felt the passion stirring in him, awakening from what had seemed, recently, like an endless slumber.

Slowly his gaze shifted to Jerry, who was just completing his conversation with his wife. Jerry seemed to have no idea just what the world was missing in its ignorant dismissal of Cora Prescott’s appeal. An idiot, Rafael mused again. More’s the pity.

“HELLO.” AT TEN MINUTES to seven the following evening, in the midst of a torrential downpour, Rafael leaned casually against the frame of the front door to Cora’s house while he looked down at a wide-eyed Liza. He’d gleaned what he could from Patty Heath last night, then spent the better part of his day replotting his strategy.

Cora Prescott was turning out to be every bit as elusive and mysterious as he’d suspected.

She was well liked by her colleagues, he’d learned, but kept largely to herself. She seemed to have few close friends in the community, yet everyone spoke of her warmly. People had conflicting ideas about her reticence, but on one point, they all seemed to agree: though they thought she’d been incredibly generous to take in her three nieces for the summer—their mother, rumor had it, was enjoying an extended fling in the Florida Keys with a married real-estate developer—Cora was completely overwhelmed by the responsibility.

Rafael couldn’t remember a time when he’d had better news. She had something he needed, and now he had something she needed. With a satisfied smile, he grinned at a bewildered-looking Liza. “Is your aunt home?” he asked.

Becky Painter, who was the ace up his sleeve this evening, peered around his shoulder to greet Liza. “Hey, there, Liza.”

Liza smiled at her. “Hi, Becky.” Her gaze swung to Rafael’s. “I know you. You were in Aunt Cora’s office.”

“Yes, I was.”

“Know how come I know?”

“How come?”

She pointed to his eye patch. “You got that. What is it?”

“It’s a bandage for my eye.”

She tipped her head to one side. “You got a sore?”

“Yes. I have a sore.”

“Oh. Are you a pirate? I have a book about pirates.”

He tapped the patch with his index finger. “Does it have pictures of men wearing these?”

“Yes. How come it’s black?”

“Eye bandages only come in black.” That made Liza frown, as if the thought of black bandages was somehow a grave misfortune. Rafael winked at her. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Liza had opened the door to his knock. Her hot-pink pajamas and the ratty-looking stuffed rabbit she clutched told him that Cora was in the middle of the bedtime routine. And if the noise coming from upstairs was any indication, she wasn’t having an easy time of it.

In answer to his question, Liza wagged her head from side to side. “I hate bed. I don’t like sleeping.”

“Really?”

“No. It’s boring.”

Becky laughed. “Bedtime in this house is a nightmare, Cora told me. She starts at around eight and never gets them down before ten.”

“Is that so?” Rafael bent so his face was at eye level with Liza’s. “Do you want to know a secret, sweet pea?”

She clutched the worn brown rabbit to her chest and leaned forward. “What?”

“I don’t like to go to sleep, either.”

Liza held his gaze a few seconds, then stepped aside to let him in. He’d cleared the first hurdle. Liza, at least, seemed to trust him. “I came to see your aunt,” he told her.

“She’s upstairs. Kaitlin and Molly don’t wanna sleep.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“How come you’re all wet?” Liza asked as a sleepy-looking Melody ambled in from the living room. The dog wagged her tail as she watched Rafael, then flumped down at his feet. Mentally he tabulated another point in his column. He had the kids. He had the dog. The aunt was sure to follow.

Becky was shaking out her umbrella. “It’s raining outside. Didn’t you hear the thunder, Liza?”

“Yeah. That’s why I came down here.”

Somewhere in that four-year-old mind, there was logic in that statement. “Does your aunt know where you are?”

Liza shrugged. He took that as a no. He was about to ask for the name of her rabbit when he heard Cora’s voice from the top of the stairs.

“Liza?”

Liza moved quickly to hide behind Rafael’s leg. Cora descended a couple of stairs. “Liza?” She walked down three more, then stopped at the sight of him. “It’s you.” Then she looked at Becky. “And you. What are you doing here?”

“I met with Jerry and Henry Willers yesterday,” he said carefully. Becky remained silent. “There are some things you and I should discuss.” Melody’s tail thumped the foyer carpet.

Cora’s eyebrows lifted. “I thought we were done.”

“Hardly,” he muttered. “Things are getting…complicated.”

She completed her trip down the stairs. When she reached the foyer, she stepped from the shadows into the light. Rafael got his first good look at her that evening. She wore faded jeans that fit far too well and a well-worn college sweatshirt. Her hair was secured in a ponytail. Heat radiated from her. He could feel the lingering raindrops on his skin beginning to sizzle. He inhaled a great breath of her scent. Baby powder and soap, it was far more seductive than any expensive perfume. “The only thing that’s complicated,” she said with a distinct snap in her eyes, “is that you won’t take no for an answer.”

That snap charmed him. “It’s what makes me good at my job.”

“And obnoxious,” she shot back.

He responded with a low whistle. “Do you bite, too?”

That made Becky laugh. “Don’t let her fool you, Dr. Adriano. Cora’s as even-tempered as they come.”

“So I’m the only one who gets under her skin.” He gave Cora an appraising look. “I wonder why?”

Her color heightened. “I have an aversion to pushy men.”

“And I have an affinity for mouthy women.”

Becky stepped between them, laughing. “Okay, okay. This is going nowhere.”

Liza clutched her stuffed rabbit closer and announced, “When Molly and Kaitlin and me fight like that, Mama tells us to separate.”

Rafael winked at her. Cora muttered, “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

“You don’t understand, Cora,” Becky continued. “You aren’t even going to believe what Jerry’s done. At least Dr. Adriano had the decency to tell you about it first.”

Cora frowned. “What’s Jerry got to do with this?”

Becky shook her head. “I think we should sit down.”

Cora resisted. “Don’t you have final exams in a couple of weeks, Becky? Aren’t you supposed to be studying?”

Becky shrugged. “I needed a break. This is more interesting, anyway.”

Cora glared at Adriano. “Did you talk her into this?”

“She volunteered.”

“I’m sure.”

“I did.” Becky nodded vigorously. “I had to come, Cora. Jerry Heath and Henry Willers called a press conference for Monday morning.”

“That soon?” Cora asked.

Becky frowned. “It gets worse. Jerry was so overcome that Dr. Adriano came early, he moved it up to tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” Cora pointed out. “No one’s attending a press conference on a Sunday.” Becky glanced at Rafael. He had the grace to look uncomfortable. “They will if I’m there,” he pointed out. Becky continued, “Jerry and Willers plan to announce that you’ve agreed to let Dr. Adriano participate in the Conrad study.”

Cora’s eyes widened, then she shot an accusing glance at Rafael. “You took the project from me,” she accused.

He silently damned Jerry Heath to hell. “It’s not what you think.”

Becky came to his defense. “I wouldn’t have known at all if Dr. Adriano hadn’t told me. They’re planning to spring it on you tomorrow.”

A rumble of thunder sounded overhead, and Liza yelped, then clutched Rafael’s leg. He leaned down to pick her up. “Worried?” he asked.

“It’s scary,” Liza whispered.

“My mother used to say the noise was the sound of angels bowling in heaven.”

Another loud rumble followed. Liza buried her face against his neck. “Then why are they so loud?”

“Liza,” Cora said. “You’re supposed to be upstairs in bed.”

Liza peered at her. “He knocked on the door.”

Cora ignored that. “Kaitlin said you could sleep in her bed tonight.”

“I don’t want to go bed.”

“Molly and Kaitlin are waiting for you.”

Liza’s jaw set in a stubborn line. “No. I don’t like going to bed.” She patted Rafael’s chest. “He doesn’t, either.”

Cora gave him a dry look. “Is that so?”

“I said I didn’t like to sleep. I didn’t say anything about going to bed.” Before Cora could respond, he tickled Liza’s ribs. “Tell you what, Liza, will you go to bed if I tell you a story?”

Her look was skeptical. “What kind of story?”

“What kind of stories do you like?”

She seemed to consider it for a long moment. “Can it have a pirate in it?”

“Sure.”

“And a dog?”

“Absolutely. A dog named Melody.” At the sound of her name, Melody got to her feet, then followed him when he started toward the stairs.

“And ice cream?”

“What flavor?” He shot Cora a silent invitation as he started up the stairs. Cora mumbled something to Becky, then fell into step behind them.

Liza pursed her lips. “I like chocolate.”

“Not pickle?”

Liza’s face scrunched. “Eeeew.”

“What about cabbage?”

“There’s no such thing as cabbage ice cream.”

“You sure?”

“Sure. That’s gross.”

He reached the top of the stairs, then met Cora’s gaze above Liza’s head. Raising a hand, Cora indicated the room to the right of the landing. He headed down the hall. “All right, chocolate. If it has a pirate, a dog and chocolate ice cream, do you promise to go to bed?”

“What if the thunder comes back?”

The storm was nearly over. The thunder already sounded distant. “Then you can get up,” he promised.

Liza laid her head against his chest. “Okay.”

The door was open and soft light spilled into the hallway. Rafael entered the room to find Molly and Kaitlin having a quiet argument over a book.

“I want to read it,” Molly insisted.

“You can’t,” her sister said. “It’s mine.”

“Girls,” Cora said from the door. “I told you to share the book. Molly, Kaitlin’s letting you sleep in her room. Let her have the book back.”

Molly hesitated, then released the book. “How come she always gets her way?” she demanded.

Kaitlin glared at Cora. “I don’t have to share it if I don’t want to. Mama gave it to me. It’s mine.”

Rafael saw Cora close her eyes in weary acquiescence. She hadn’t followed him into the room. Instead, she leaned against the doorjamb. “Fine,” she said quietly. “Just quit fighting about it.”

He set Liza on the bed and waited for her to scramble beneath the covers next to Molly. When she and the stuffed rabbit were properly settled, he looked at Kaitlin. “Your sister requested a story. Is that all right with you?”

Kaitlin stared at him, wide-eyed. A rumble of thunder had Liza clutching the covers and pleading with her. “Please, Kaitlin. He said he’d put a pirate in it.”

Rafael nodded. “And a dog named Melody.”

Melody had followed them upstairs. She now rubbed against his leg. He scratched her ears until she dropped to the floor and thumped her tail on the carpet.

“I’m too old for bedtime stories,” Kaitlin informed him carefully.

“Naturally,” he concurred. “I’m telling it to Liza. You don’t have to listen if you aren’t interested.”

She hesitated a second longer, then nodded. “Okay.”

No wonder, Rafael thought, that she and Cora were having trouble getting along. She liked control as much as her aunt did. He sat on the edge of the bed and started to spin a tale about pirate ships and treasure, chocolate ice cream and a dog named Melody. Liza yawned and rubbed her eyes with her fist. Molly fought her drooping eyelids. Kaitlin sank deeper beneath the covers and watched him, cautiously but intently. When he saw Liza’s eyes drift shut and her mouth go slack, he glanced at Molly and Kaitlin. Both were asleep.

He looked at Cora, who still stood by the door. Raising a hand to his lips, he cautioned her to be silent. She nodded and flipped the lights off. The glow of a night-light cast long shadows in the room. Easing off the bed, he walked to the door. Cora stepped aside to let him pass, then pulled the door partially shut as she joined him in the hall.

He gave her a dry look. “Mission accomplished.”

“Congratulations,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do about nominating you for the Nobel peace prize.”

He laughed softly as they walked toward the stairs. “Is bedtime always like this?”

“Mostly. The storm made it worse than usual.” She hesitated. “They miss their mother. Something like a bad storm makes them miss her more.”

He nodded. “When is she coming back for them?”

Cora shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

The frustration in her voice made him frown. Cora turned away and would have started down the stairs, but he touched her elbow, halting her progress. “You’re very good with them,” he assured her.

Her eyebrows lifted. “You’re the one who talked them to sleep.”

“You’re the one who makes them secure. Don’t underestimate that.”

She studied him for long, inscrutable seconds. “You really didn’t know Jerry was going to do this, did you?” she finally asked.

Pleased, he shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

“For what it’s worth, I believe you. I don’t know why. I just do.”

“I’m glad.”

With a nod, she headed downstairs. “I suppose you’d better fill me in on what exactly Jerry and Henry are planning to announce about my project tomorrow. I’d rather not get ambushed.”

WHEN THEY JOINED Becky in Cora’s living room, she was setting three mugs of coffee on the table. “You’re through already?” she asked. “That’s got to be a new record.”

Rafael pointed to the ceiling. “They’re sleeping.”

“It’s a miracle.” She handed Cora a mug. “Creamed and sugared, just like you take it.”

“Thanks.” Cora sank into one of the wing chairs.

Becky sat on the couch and cradled her own mug. “Did you want anything in yours, Dr. Adriano?”

He shook his head. “Black is fine. And I wish you’d quit calling me Dr. Adriano. I might forget to answer.”

When Becky flushed, Cora gave him a wry look. “What I want to know is, where was all this charm when you were sending me those pushy letters?”

Rafael laughed and took the seat across from Cora. “You were supposed to read between the lines and find me irresistible.”

Her fingers gripped the arm of her chair. “Well, it worked on Henry Willers, anyway. He obviously couldn’t resist you.”

He stifled his frustration when he thought of his earlier confrontation with Jerry and Henry. He’d been just as surprised as Cora to find out they’d already released a statement that he’d joined the project. Just as surprised, and probably angrier. “Look, Cora,” he said, watching her carefully. She didn’t flinch at the liberty he’d taken with her first name. He took that as a good sign. “I had no idea this was going to happen, but we can’t change it now. It seems to me that we might as well make the best of a potentially bad situation.”

She hesitated a moment. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance of talking Henry out of this.”

Becky shook her head. “He already released a written statement. The conference is just a formality.”

“Ugh.” Cora dropped her head back against the chair. “I should have known.” She looked at Rafael accusingly. “What did you think was going to happen when you told Jerry I’d refused your request?”

“It never occurred to me that you and I wouldn’t come to an understanding,” he said.

“That’s a bit arrogant, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.”

“What if we hadn’t?”

“I would have respected that.” He waited for the truth of the statement to sink in. “I asked Jerry for his opinion. If I’d known he’d try to trump you, I would have handled it differently.”

“I can manage Jerry, believe me.”

“I don’t doubt it.” And he didn’t. Cora wasn’t the type to be cowed by an arrogant SOB like Jerry Heath. “But he can be a real bastard when he wants to be.”

Becky laughed. “You could say that.”

Rafael nodded. “If it counts for anything, when he and Willers told me about this, I told him he was a pain in the ass.”

Cora settled more deeply into her seat. Digging in, he mused. She regarded him with a steady look. “I’m sure he took that well.”

Becky snorted. “What a jerk.”

She had no idea, Rafael thought. He’d been in a black rage since the confrontation in Willers’s office. He’d even threatened to walk off the project, but Jerry had been quick to point out that information had already been issued to the press. If Rafael left and took the prestige of his reputation with him, Jerry would ensure that Cora bore the blame in the eyes of the media and the college. Feeling trapped and hating nothing more than being manipulated and snared, Rafael had conceded, but not without choking several concessions out of Jerry and Henry Willers.

The room had fallen silent, and Cora stared into her coffee mug, frowning intently.

Becky touched Cora’s knee. “Cora, I talked to Willers’s secretary. She was my roommate last year, you know?” Cora nodded, so Becky continued, “They were going to take the entire project away from you. If Dr. Adriano hadn’t intervened, Jerry was just going to make you hand over the diaries to the college. He says you gave the college the rights to any historical records or artifacts you found in this house when you bought it from them.”

“I did,” Cora muttered. “They wouldn’t sell it to me without that clause.”

“So at least this way, you get to continue studying them,” Becky pointed out.

Cora’s short laugh was humorless. “Thank God.” She gave him a cold look. “I should be grateful for that, I suppose.”

He ground his teeth. He should have slugged Jerry when he had the chance. “You’re still in charge of the project,” he said. “I insisted on that.”

Cora didn’t respond. Becky gave Rafael a worried look. “It doesn’t have to be that bad, Cora. I know you’re frustrated, but I’m sure we can work something out.”

Cora took a sip of her coffee. “Becky,” she said patiently, too patiently, “do you have any idea what’s going to happen when the story gets out that Dr. Adriano is here to join this project?” Becky shook her head.

Cora looked at Rafael and said, “Madness and mayhem.”

Rafael decided it was time to tip his hand. “Money and media,” he corrected her. “And from what Jerry tells me, you need them both.”

“We’re not desperate,” she insisted.

“You don’t even have enough in your research funding to complete your examination of the existing diaries—much less for their preservation and authentication.”

Becky nodded. “It’s true, Cora.”

“I’ve got some promising leads,” Cora protested. “It’s—”

Rafael cut her off. “I can guarantee you three million dollars by the end of the week.”

Cora choked. “Three million?”

“Oh, my God,” Becky said, wide-eyed.

Rafael nodded, satisfied. That kind of grant money was unheard of in Cora’s field. She’d probably been hoping for several thousand. “And that’s just starters.”

Cora stared at him. “What could possibly—”

“The historic record tells us that in the fall of 1861 del Flores and his ship disappeared. He was last seen when he sailed from Savannah on a reported raid. He was supposed to prevent the French fleet from delivering supplies and munitions. The theory is that he encountered bad weather—maybe a hurricane—off the coast and sank.”

“But you don’t think so,” Cora said.

“No. I think he loaded the Isabela with five years’ worth of plunder and headed here, to rendezvous with Abigail. Wherever the Isabela is now, it’s probably still loaded with del Flores’s treasure.”

“Wow,” Becky said. “It would be worth millions.”

“One of the biggest finds ever,” Rafael concurred. “And the cultural significance of those artifacts is unimaginable. Until now, I’ve had nothing to study but del Flores’s own logs and papers. The chance to look at Abigail’s work…”

“If they had an affair,” Becky said. “We don’t even know that for sure. She talks about her lover, but she never names him.”

“I haven’t studied them all,” Cora conceded, “but I haven’t seen his name.”

Rafael wasn’t deterred. “I want to compare what Abigail wrote with what I’ve already discovered about del Flores. If she makes references to her lover that correspond to the dates of his visits, then I can place them together circumstantially.”

“What good will that do?” Becky asked.

“It will explain why no one’s been able to find the ship off the coast of Savannah,” he said quietly. “Because it’s farther north. Closer to here.”

“And you’ve got investors willing to stake that hunch?” Cora pressed.

“I’ve got enough of a reputation that I can raise the money I need.”

“Then why help me?” she probed. “With that kind of cash at your disposal, I’m sure you could persuade Jerry and the rest of the college to just hand you total control of the diaries.”

He heard the bitterness in her voice. He couldn’t blame her for it. She was right on that account. He had enough clout to wrest the project from her completely, if that was what he wanted. But he didn’t merely want access to Cora Prescott’s house—he wanted all the privileges that came with having her on his team. “That’s not what I want. I’m no more interested in sacrificing Abigail Conrad to the fortune hunters than you are. I just want the truth.”

“And the ship?”

“I’ve spent my career looking for the Isabela.” He hesitated. He rarely discussed this. He’d been informed by some very knowledgeable people that he sounded far too intense. Frighteningly intense. “This is one more piece of the puzzle.”

Cora frowned. “And that will bring every fortune hunter and relic seeker in the world to Cape Marr, hoping to beat you to the treasure.”

Her tone was pure censure, condemning and condescending. He couldn’t keep the irritation from his voice. “The fact that my research is more accessible to the general public doesn’t make it any less valid than yours.”

She gasped. “I didn’t mean—”

“I’m not interested in the treasure,” he said harshly. “It’s not about that.”

“But you can’t deny that its allure would bring chaos. This is a small town. The kind of people who hunt sunken treasure for a living aren’t known for their high moral code, you know. I don’t think downtown Cape AMR is ready to host the international cutthroat convention.”

“It won’t happen. I can stop it from happening.”

“Are you kidding?” she shot back. “You draw reporters and attention like honey draws flies.”

“With me,” he insisted, “and with my involvement in the project, you not only get access to my fund-raising team, you get my PR firm, as well. They’re very good at keeping reporters out of my hair.”

Becky tucked her feet beneath her legs and looked at Cora. “It’s true, Cora. Don’t you remember reading how annoyed the press was because they didn’t have access to the Argo project until after the ship was raised?”

“Because the Greek military protected the site as a matter of national interest,” Cora said, then looked at Rafael. “What are you going to do? Make a phone call to the Joint Chiefs of Staff?”

She wasn’t going to back down, he realized, and found himself unaccountably pleased by her candor and resistance. He’d been too long without a challenge. “Not quite, but I can assure you that my PR people will take the headache out of this.”

Cora shook her head. “Not if Henry Willers has anything to do with it. The man never saw a camera he didn’t like.”

Becky agreed. “He turns everything into a circus.”

“The secret,” Rafael said, “is to make sure you control the press, instead of the other way around. There will be attention. There’s no way to avoid it.”

“Lovely,” Cora muttered.

“But we’ll direct it, instead of letting it direct us.” He paused. “I already told Willers that after tomorrow he’d better stay the hell out of my business, or I’d make sure he regretted it.”

Cora pulled off her glasses to rub her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. “God, this is giving me a headache.”

But she wasn’t arguing, he noted, and decided to press his advantage. “I’ve been looking for the truth about del Flores since I was seventeen years old.” At her skeptical look, he nodded. “It’s true. I left home because my brother, Zack, and I weren’t getting along. I came down here to work my way through college and discovered the del Flores story. I’ve been hooked ever since.” He leveled his gaze at her. “And if you think about it, I can actually help make all this easier on you. Because of my connections, I can raise the money you need, but because of my family, I can help you with something else.”

“What now? You know the cure for the common cold?”

He laughed. Lord, the woman fascinated him. He found himself increasingly preoccupied with the idea of how all that mental acuity would affect him during sex. Would she approach lovemaking with the same intellectual intensity, or could he coax her to flagrant passion? Or both, he thought, the idea definitely tantalizing. “Nothing that dramatic,” he finally assured her. “But I did some checking today—” he held up a hand to forestall her interruption “—and your nieces are running you into the ground.”

“They are not.” She looked indignant. “They’re just a little…active.”

“Cora, they’re hellions,” Becky said.

Cora gave her a reproving look. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You’ve gone through three baby-sitters this week alone,” Becky countered.

Cora squirmed. “They’re having…It’s been a difficult adjustment.” She looked at Rafael. “My sister is notoriously self-absorbed. They felt as if they got dumped here when she went…when she left. I’d be expecting too much if I thought they wouldn’t act out some of that frustration.”

He nodded. “And it doesn’t help any that you’ve got your course load to handle, the pressure of a major research project looming over your head and the responsibility for the entertainment, care and feeding of three kids. I’m not criticizing you—just sympathizing.”

“If you think harassing me about my nieces is going to win you any points—”

“I’m not harassing you. I’m here to offer you a solution.”

Becky raised an eyebrow. “Boarding school?” she quipped.

Cora frowned at her. Rafael shook his head. “I’m just going to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

“I doubt it,” Cora retorted.

He ignored her. “You give me access to the house for the next two months, and I’ll solve your child-care problem. Two adults and three kids are much better odds than the ones you’re playing now.”

“You’re going to baby-sit? Are you insane?”

“I wouldn’t call it baby-sitting,” he said. “More like riot control.”

“It would never work.”

“Sure it would. I’d move in with you and—”

Cora gasped. “Move in?”

“You want to live here?” Becky said.

He nodded. “This is where Abigail lived, where she wrote.” He gave Cora a piercing look. “Where she made love with del Flores. I can learn from the atmosphere if I move in.”

“Move in, as in your clothes in my closet, your toothbrush in my bathroom?”

The mere thought made his blood pump faster. All he had to do was picture what Cora would look like in the morning—rumpled, warm, addictively soft—to feel himself getting aroused. He could see them stretched languorously amid tangled sheets and scattered pillows, exhausted and sated from an arduous night of sizzling, mind-blowing sex. And it would be with her, he knew. It most definitely would be.

He realized that Cora was watching him, saw the heightened color in her face, the awareness in her eyes, and knew she was thinking along similar lines. She didn’t want to, but couldn’t stop herself. A satisfied smile touched his lips. “I hadn’t planned,” he said softly, “on sharing a bathroom.”

The insinuation that he had definitely planned on sharing other things—like a bedroom—wasn’t lost on her. Her color deepened, but she sat perfectly still.

Becky, sweetly oblivious to the undercurrent, was nodding, thoughtful. “You know, Cora. There is the room on the top floor.” She looked at Rafael. “It has a separate entrance,” she explained.

He knew that already. Cora usually rented the room to a student during the regular term. One of the secretaries in the college administration office had revealed that to him. “Does it?” he asked casually.

“Yes,” Becky assured him. “You’d have some privacy that way.”

Privacy wasn’t what he’d planned, but he and Cora could argue about it later. “I’m sure I would.” He kept his tone bland.

Becky turned to Cora. “You haven’t rented it for the summer, have you?”

Cora frowned. “Becky—”

“It could work,” Becky insisted. “You do need help.”

Rafael added, “You’d have more time for research.”

Becky had warmed to the idea. “Think about it, Cora. If you didn’t have to constantly worry about coordinating schedules and transportation, you could work all day.”

“How much time do you lose by not being able to run off to the library for an hour or two because you have to worry about what you’re going to do with the girls?” Rafael asked.

“I’ve worked it out,” Cora said tightly.

“And how many times have you been totally immersed in Abigail’s writing and had to stop to resolve a sibling crisis?” he went on.

“That’s not—”

“There are three of them and one of you.” He pressed his hands to his thighs and leaned forward to drive home his point. “You need help. And I can give it to you.”

“By living with me?”

“I don’t have to.” He watched her closely. “I could live in town and come by during the days, but it suits my purposes better to be here, and it helps you more if I am. We both win.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I do,” Becky said.

“It’s an excellent idea,” Rafael insisted. “I could be there during the day while you’re tied up in classes. And face it, you’ve got to do something with the girls before they drive you crazy.”

“Something like turn them over to you? What could you possibly know about three little girls?”

“I’m the second oldest of thirteen children. I have nine sisters—all younger. I know a lot about girls.” He leaned closer. “Of all ages.”

Cora snorted. “You know, if you ever decide to give up ocean archeology, you might want to consider stand-up comedy. You’ve got a comeback for just about everything, don’t you.”

Becky looked at Cora. “This is the perfect solution, Cora. You know it is.”

She visibly wavered, then looked at Rafael. “This is exactly why I said no to your first letter,” she told him. “I didn’t want this kind of disruption.”

“It’ll work out, Cora. You’ll see,” Becky assured her. “In the long run, if he’s handling the media, you’ll have more time for the diaries. Everyone wins.”

He saw her indecision and realized he was holding his breath. Finally she sighed, a weary sigh of surrender. “Since there’s no reasonable way to stop this now,” she told him, “then I at least want your promise on one thing.” She paused. “I haven’t had the chance to fully examine the diaries, but they’re…intensely personal. I’d prefer not to see Abigail’s private thoughts printed for public consumption without my consent.”

Rafael felt a surge of satisfaction. She had a strong desire, he realized, to protect Abigail’s privacy. Dared he hope that she felt a connection to Abigail and del Flores similar to his own? “Fine,” he agreed.

She held his gaze a moment longer, then dropped her head into her hands. “Oh, God,” she groaned. “What have I done?”