Raiders of the Lost Heart

Balls. Why couldn’t he have used a different word? Corrie couldn’t help but glance at his crotch when he said it. She chastised herself for being unable to get her mind out of the gutter. Despite the missiles firing in all sorts of directions inside her upon seeing him in all his half-naked glory, her sexual attraction to him accounted for only a small fraction of her thoughts.

Okay, a large fraction. But those weren’t the real reasons she couldn’t get him out of her head.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier. About standing up for your mom,” she said.

“Corrie, please,” he said, hanging his head. “You have nothing to be apologizing for. You’re only going to make me feel worse if you think you ever need to apologize to me. Not after what I’ve done.”

“I know, but . . . I know how much your mom means to you. It was a low blow.”

“I deserve worse.”

“Not when it comes to her. You don’t deserve to worry about her.”

His face softened as he looked up at her, as if finally accepting her words.

“Have you figured out what you’re going to do yet?” she asked. “About the payment, I mean.”

He shook his head. “I called the bank today to see if I could get a line of credit, but they said it would take a few weeks for the paperwork.”

“Could you get an advance on the . . .” Her voice cracked. “On the money from this dig?”

“Based on my last conversation with the investor, I’m not in a position to be asking for favors. I haven’t even told him about the knife yet.”

She cocked her head. “Why not? Isn’t that what he wanted?”

“Yes, but that’s all he wanted.”

Oh. Corrie didn’t need Ford to spell it out to her—the minute he told the investor about the tecpatl, they’d be pulled out. And even though it meant Ford would have the money he needed for his mom’s treatments, it would also mean Corrie couldn’t finish what she’d set out to do.

She couldn’t let his mom suffer because of whatever this was that was happening between them.

“Where’s the sat phone?” she asked.

“It’s on the desk. Why?”

Corrie walked over to the desk, grabbed the phone, then brought it over to Ford, having to ignore the rise in temperature at being so close to him. “Call the treatment center.”

He looked at the phone like it was a foreign object. “What? Why? I already told you, I don’t have the money.”

“Call them,” she demanded, thrusting the phone in front of him.

He stared at her for a moment, then did what she said. But the moment the phone rang on the other end, she took it from him.

“Lakeview Rehab Center. How can I help you?”

“Quick, what’s your mom’s name?” she whispered to Ford.

“Catherine. Catherine Matthews,” he said, clearly clueless as to what she was planning to do.

Corrie nodded once, then brought the mouthpiece to her lips. “Hi, I’m calling about the payment for Catherine Matthews.”

“What are you doing?” Ford whispered.

“Our accounts and billing department won’t be open until eight a.m., but I’d be happy to see if I can help you,” the voice on the other end said.

“Well, I’m in a remote location overseas and might not be able to call when they are open. Is there any chance you can accept a payment now over the phone?” Corrie responded.

“What?! Corrie, no. You can’t—” Ford said, trying to take the phone from her. But Corrie swatted him, and his hard sweaty body, away.

“Sure thing. I’ve got Mrs. Matthews’s account right here,” the receptionist said.

“Great!” Corrie said, moving away from Ford so he couldn’t grab the phone. “I’m ready with the credit card number whenever you are.”

“Ready.”

“Okay, it’s—”

Ford snatched the phone from her grasp. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Give me the phone.” She reached around him, their bodies grazing against each other, sending a satisfying zap to her senses.

“No. It’s thirty thousand dollars, Corrie.”

“And you can pay me back as soon as you get paid. Now hand me the phone, Ford. I’m doing this whether you want me to or not.”

She held out her hand as he searched her face, debating his options. As if he really had any. His shoulders finally relaxed with a resigned sigh. But after reluctantly letting go, Corrie proceeded to give her credit card info to the receptionist then wrapped up the call before finally handing the phone to Ford.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

They stood silently for a moment, Ford running his thumb back and forth over the phone.

“Why are you being so kind to me? You shouldn’t even want to speak to me right now.”

She sighed. Wasn’t that the truth? But she couldn’t deny that pain in her heart.

“Ford . . . I hate what you did. Like close my eyes and picture your face on a dartboard hate it. But . . .” She paused. “But I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same if I’d been in your position.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t? Even taking out the mom component, you don’t think I would have taken the chance to get back at you for stealing my opportunity with Addison? You don’t think I would have thrown you under the bus to take this from you?”

“No, I don’t.”

Corrie had to admit, she was a little insulted at his disbelief in her ruthlessness.

“That’s because,” he continued, “under all this fire and attitude, I know you have too much pride not to earn your spot based on your merit. That’s why you care so much about what people think of you. You’d never throw someone else under the bus to get what you wanted. Not even me. It’s not your style. You have too much class for that.”

He was probably right. Sure, she’d fantasized many times about the ways she could get back at him, then and now. But revenge would only highlight her own weaknesses, and her satisfaction would be short-lived. Because how could she feel good about getting ahead if the only reason it happened was because of someone else’s failure instead of her own success?

Besides, she’d been wrong about the whole Addison thing anyway.

“Fine,” she said, letting her arms fall to her side, palms facing forward. “I did it because, after everything, I still care about you. I hate how much I wish you’d never told me about it. How I wish you’d kept this from me so that I could love you with blissful ignorance. How messed up is that, Ford? That I’m madder at myself for wishing you’d never told me than the fact that you screwed me over in the first place?”

He didn’t answer, but his pained eyes said he understood.

“We’re still going our separate ways after this and never have to see each other again,” she continued. “But that doesn’t make the other feelings go away. And I feel like a fool for even saying that. Like I’m some silly girl with a crush on a guy who doesn’t care about her at all but would still do anything for him. But I can’t watch you worry about her, and I can’t let her suffer just because I feel foolish.”

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