“Then what am I doing here?”
He tilted his head and squinted those brilliant eyes at her from behind his thick, black-framed glasses. Oh please. He couldn’t possibly be surprised that she was confused. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re searching for Chimalli. Thought you might want in on this, you know, given that he was the subject of your dissertation. And rumor has it you’ve been searching for funding for the past few years . . .” His know-it-all voice trailed off.
She wasn’t buying the ole good-guy act. No, Dr. Ford Matthews hadn’t invited her out of the goodness of his heart because he thought she might want in on this. Ford didn’t do anything for anyone but himself.
As he’d more than sufficiently demonstrated throughout their four years together in grad school. But it would be a cold day in hell—or, rather, the Mexican jungle—before Corrie got burned by him again. Chimalli or not, she couldn’t work with Ford.
And she especially couldn’t work for Ford.
The realization brought her back to reality. “You know, I’m going to have to pass. I got what I needed—confirmation that this was too good to be true. I just wish you’d saved both of us the trouble by letting Calvin know it was you who wanted me here so I could have declined in Berkeley.” She then turned to Ethan, placing her hand on his forearm. “Ethan, it was great seeing you. Let’s catch up when you get back to the States.”
With that, Corrie spun on her heel toward her things, calculating in her head whether she could afford a first-class seat, because, well, she deserved it after all this. She’d make up for the expense in free cocktails.
“Corrie—” Ford started, followed by an audible punch and a grunt. “I mean, Dr. Mejía, wait!”
She stopped in her tracks, never having heard such a tremor in Ford’s voice. What was that? Fear? Worry?
Was Ford Matthews pleading? The corner of her lip curled up.
“Calvin didn’t tell you it was me because I knew you wouldn’t come and . . . and . . .”
The words hung on the tip of his tongue, and the curl of her lip fell. Of course Ford wouldn’t ever admit to doing anything wrong. She took another step—
“I need you!” he blurted out.
A small, devilish smile formed on Corrie’s lips like the Grinch who stole Christmas. Those words were utterly delectable coming from him. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” she asked as she slowly turned, fighting to keep her smug smile to herself.
“You heard me,” he said, grinding his jaw and digging his fingers into his hips as he stood in front of her.
This time she took a few steps to close the gap. “No, I don’t think I did. Because the Ford Matthews I know would never ask for my help. Or at least he’d know not to,” she said, matching his stance with her hip cocked to the side and her hands placed on either side of her waist.
Ford’s nostrils flared and his broad chest filled as he took a deep breath. Corrie pictured tiptoeing her fingers up his tight torso with extreme delight. Oh, how it pained him to be the one needing help. Ethan grumbled something in his ear, but Corrie only caught the latter half. “Tell her, will you?” he said.
Ten seconds into their stare down, Ford finally gave in.
“Fine,” he growled, tossing his hands in the air. “I need you. Things started out great, and I thought I had it figured out, but we’re three months in and something isn’t right. I’m sure you know I wouldn’t have sent for you if I had any other options.”
He had a point. Ford despised Corrie as much as she despised him.
“So you’re desperate?”
He rolled his eyes. “Obviously. But you’re the only person in the world who has even a remote chance of being able to help, so here we are. Now, are you going to help me or not, because if we don’t hit the road soon, it’s going to be dark by the time we make it back.”
“What’s in it for me?” she asked.
“Fortune and glory not enough for you?” Ford said, crossing his arms.
Corrie started to open her mouth, ready to hurl another argument, but Ethan jumped in to stop her. “Why don’t you come for the night? In the morning we’ll show you the site, and then you can decide whether you want to stay.”
“We can’t show her where we’re going if she doesn’t agree to stay,” Ford protested under his breath.
“It will be fine,” Ethan reassured him. “She’s the only person I trust more than you, and she’s not going to steal anything. I promise. Right, Corrie?” he asked her.
“Of course not. I don’t take what’s not mine. Not like some people,” she said, leaning into her words.
Ford glared as the words flowed from her pursed lips. Good. She hoped they stung.
“So are you in?” Ethan asked.
Corrie gave Ford a once-over, searching his face. Despite the scowl, she noted the panic in his eyes. Worry that she might actually say no.
Clearly, they were onto something big, and he was afraid he might lose it if he didn’t have her help. Finding out more was worth the pain of having to spend a car ride and an evening in Ford’s company.
At least the scenery was decent.
“All right, I’m in. But I reserve the right to change my mind in the morning.”
Both Ford and Ethan breathed sighs of relief as their shoulders relaxed, and Ford walked toward Corrie. A rush of heat washed over her at his proximity.
“Trust me . . . You won’t be changing your mind,” he whispered in her ear as he reached down to grab her bags.
His warm breath, laced with spearmint, tickled behind her ear, sending another sizzling inferno soaring through her body. Though, unlike the last time, this one was centered around her nether regions.
But if there was one person in the world she didn’t trust with anything—especially her nether regions—it was Dr. Ford Matthews.
Chapter
Two
This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.
The wind whipped through Corrie’s hair as they traveled down the dirt road. Even though she had it pinned to the back of her head, a few unruly deep brown waves dipped with dark honey danced through the air, brushing across the smooth golden skin of her face.
Dr. Corrie Mejía was even more beautiful than he’d remembered.
Too bad she hated his guts. Not that he could blame her. Hell, sometimes he hated himself, too, or at least the times when he put on that smarmy act like he’d done at the airport. But he couldn’t help it. Whenever he was around her—her and only her—Ford the Douchebag always made an appearance.
He couldn’t believe he’d actually told her she could call him boss.
Douche. Bag.
He shook his head thinking about it, catching Corrie’s curious glance in the rearview mirror. A glance that quickly turned intense as those rich brown eyes bore through him like lasers. Perhaps this was her attempt at being menacing. Little did she know, however, that the only thing on his mind was wondering what those eyes would look like staring up at him from his bed. Staring at him like that one night they’d spent alone in the library.