“Oh really? Show me.”
He pushed off the doorframe and strode across the room toward her, sending a jolt of heat between her legs. She hadn’t seen him in person in three months, not since she’d joined another dig in the Yucatán. Even after a year together, he still made her heart sing whenever he was around, whether in person, on the phone, or only in her thoughts. It had been hard being apart, especially after she’d almost lost him from the stabbing. Things had been touch-and-go for a few weeks in the hospital, between the loss of blood and a later infection, but he’d eventually pulled through. They’d spent as much time together as possible since then, which, between Corrie’s sabbatical and Ford’s resignation, had made things a lot easier—up until she’d left for Mexico again, that was.
The instant he was beside her, she wanted to pounce on him, and it took all her strength not to. They were in a public setting, after all. But he took her hand and stood beside her, staring at the collection of photos on the wall.
“This one,” she said, pointing to the photo of them doing dishes her first night in camp.
He craned his head and looked at her. “Really?”
“Mm-hmm. It was when you were talking about your mom and I realized you were actually a good guy. Speaking of?”
“She’s out with Ethan. Sorry again I couldn’t pick you up from the airport. Her doctor’s appointment went late today, but she’s looking and feeling great.”
“That’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here. That you both are.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
He planted his lips on hers, sending a fire roaring through her body. Not even three months and thousands of miles apart could tame the blaze from his kiss.
“When did you know?” she asked.
“Know what?”
“That you were in love with me?”
“In the library. When you were drinking that coffee. I knew it the minute I wanted to be that coffee.”
“You wanted to be coffee?” she asked with a smirk.
“Absolutely. I wanted to touch your lips and be consumed by you. There might not be a picture of it hanging on this wall, but it’s here,” he said, placing his fingertips at his temple, “and here,” he said, taking both their hands and holding them over his heart. “That picture will forever be etched in my soul. And no one can take it away from me.”
Just like no one could take his heart away from her.
A low rumble of words and whispers came from the other room. The exhibition must have opened to the public. After one more quick kiss, they separated their bodies and mingled with the guests. Answering questions. Telling stories. Catching each other’s longing gazes throughout the evening.
The exhibition was a hit. Experts and archaeology enthusiasts had come from all over the world—though Dr. Crawley had conveniently been left off the guest list. In this field, reputation meant everything, and Crawley’s had sunk to the bottom rung with the likes of Pierre Vautour and Bernard Sardoni. But for the first time in her life, Corrie was recognized for more than her antics and appearance. The old boys’ club asked for her opinion. For her assistance on their own archaeological mysteries. Ford hung back and watched, allowing her to shine in the spotlight all on her own. Whenever a question was directed at him about the Chimalli dig, he deferred to Corrie, “as she was the lead,” he’d explain. Never once taking credit for her accomplishments. And he was even quick to point out the mistakes he’d made early on.
As the evening wound down, Ford and Corrie made a final pass through the room to say their goodbyes. Sunny and Ethan offered to take Miri back to the hotel, though they all made plans to meet for brunch in the morning along with the rest of the gang. The whole crew had come—Mateo, Gabriel, Jon, Memo, and even Agnes.
“I’m glad to see the two of you still together. Though, Dr. Matthews, if you ever want to settle down, you know where to find me,” Agnes said with a wink.
“What makes you think I haven’t settled down?” Ford asked.
“There’s no settling down with this one. Something tells me life will always be an adventure so long as you’re together.” She pulled them in for a three-way hug. “Call me the next time you need a chef for another dig. Most excitement I’ve had in years.”
Agnes walked off, leaving them alone beside the knife case. “So, do you think what Agnes said is true? That you’ll never settle down?” Corrie asked.
Ford pulled her into his arms and smiled at her. “I don’t know. My life has definitely been more . . . entertaining since you’ve been in it. But there’s no one else I’d rather spend it with. And nowhere else I’d rather be.” He then homed in on her eyes. “Except maybe somewhere with this amazing dress in a pile on the floor and me between your legs.”
“About time you said something.”
“I’ve been spending the last few hours trying to talk myself off the proverbial ledge. I mean, clearly it’s no secret that I’m deeply, madly, and truly in love with you—as evidenced by not one, but two displays in this exhibition focused on our relationship—but I don’t need to be making any more headlines by pitching tent at the opening gala.”
Corrito Burrito unleashed a laugh, echoing in the exhibition hall, so loud she had to bury her head in his chest.
“I love your laugh.”
“I love you.”
He pulled her in for a kiss again, savoring every last ounce of her. Every now and then Corrie regretted all the years they’d spent loathing each other, but whenever he kissed her, those regrets went away. No, they’d come together at the perfect time and in the perfect way, tying a neat little bow on her life’s work on Chimalli. It might not have ended the way she’d anticipated—or even the way she’d hoped it would when Calvin had first appeared in her office offering her the job. But she wouldn’t change a thing.
“Ahem, excuse me. Doctors?”
Ford and Corrie separated their lips, but not their bodies, as they turned toward the voice. A short, round man in a tuxedo stood beside them.
“Hello, I’m Eugene Larity. I was hoping I could chat with you about a proposition.”
Corrie and Ford glanced at each other, then back at Mr. Larity. “I’m sorry, but we’re on sabbatical,” Corrie said. “We can refer you to someone else, however.”
“No, I’m afraid no one else will do.”
“Well, unfortunately we can’t help you,” Ford said. “Thank you, and have a nice evening.”
“You don’t understand. You’ll find a lot of . . . value in my proposition.”
Oh, they understood all right. “We don’t do jobs for payouts,” Ford said. At least, not anymore. Though, seeing as Ford had never been paid a dime by Vautour, technically they’d never done any job for a payout. He took Corrie’s hand and they started to walk away.
“I’m not talking about money. I’m talking about revenge. I believe we have a mutual enemy, Doctors. A Mr. Pierre Vautour?”
Corrie and Ford halted in their tracks.