negotiated countries into loaning their precious artifacts to the United States on several occasions. It was high stakes poker at its finest, and he was a champ.
Riley raised a brow in question as she started towards him with purposeful strides.
“Are you Doctor MacKenzie?”
“Riley,” he said, holding out a hand. “I take it you’re Margaret Lawrence?”
Dimples fluttered around a lush, amused mouth. “Call me Maggie. Do you care if I sit down?”
Definitely not old, he thought. “Have a seat. Do you want some coffee?”
“No, thanks. But hot tea would be lovely.”
“I’ll have it right out,” Tyler called out, obviously eavesdropping.
Riley kept silent as their drinks were served, waiting for her to get her thoughts together and say what she wanted. Despite her composed face, her hands were in constant motion, stirring her tea and crumpling the sugar packet between her fingers. She was obviously nervous, and every time headlights shone in the windows from the parking lot she turned her head to see who it was.
He’d thought when she’d first come in she might be the age of some of his graduate students, but seeing her up close he put her age closer to thirty. Her eyes were a clear gray and her thick sculpted brows were a darker shade of blond. It made him wonder if she was truly blond all over. That thought didn’t help with the fit of his slacks, so he tried to think of something else.
“Thank you for meeting me.”
Her voice was soft and husky, and he could only imagine how it would sound when he was buried deep inside of her. Somewhere between the time she’d walked in the door and spoken her first word, he’d decided he was going to take her to bed. He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman this badly.
“I realize this is unorthodox, but I needed someone very quickly. I appreciate you seeing me so soon. I’m afraid this is a bit of a delicate situation, and I was afraid it might be too…late if you waited until after the holidays.”
“Too late how?”
“Just be patient with me. This has been a difficult week.”
Riley nodded and found his interest growing. Just what kind of artifact had she come across?
“Before I can show you anything, I need to make sure you will be discreet. This knowledge in the wrongs hands could make things even more difficult than they already are.”
Riley didn’t bother to hide his irritation. “I don’t gossip to tabloids, Ms. Lawrence. I work in an occupation that often requires discretion.”
“It’s Doctor, not Miss.”
“I beg your pardon.” Riley couldn’t help but smile at her narrowed gaze. Color had washed into her cheeks and he had the sudden urge to trace his finger over the gentle curve of her jaw.
“And I’m well aware of your reputation. You’re considered something of a renegade in academic circles. A man who likes to pick his own teams and call all the shots when excavating new locations. You can hold your own with grave robbers and government officials alike, and your interns have a tendency to leave your digs in tears because you yell at them if they mishandle the finds.”
“The good interns don’t leave in tears, Doctor Lawrence. The good interns usually end up getting a call the next time I put an excavation team together. I don’t put up with mediocrity.”
“I’m not saying you’re wrong. I feel the same way. I’m just stating the facts. Your insistence on not playing the political game and kissing certain asses has held you back somewhat, but your work is solid.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
“I wouldn’t bring something this important to you without checking the facts. Lives could depend upon it.”
She pulled a photograph out of her purse and slid it across the table. He didn’t look at it until her gaze met his in question, letting her know he wasn’t as anxious to see what she had as she wanted him to be—though in truth he was practically salivating with what could be waiting for him.
He
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