Griff’s head was going to explode. Surely the smoking hot babe with auburn ringlets hanging clear to her superior ass had seen the steam erupting from his ears when they’d passed each other on the street a couple of minutes ago. Come to think of it, the woman had looked nearly as pissed off as he felt. Must have something to do with the ungodly heat radiating up from the pavement.
Not a breath of air stirred the entire length of Franklin Street, which ran straight through the financial district in downtown Boston. Finding the street had been a piece of cake. Problem was the address 1775 didn’t exist. Maybe he should be on Franklin Way or Franklin Avenue, but the clue had mentioned wealth. Surely this was the right neighborhood.
Dropping the duffle bag, he fisted his hands on his hips and scowled at the people passing by in regulation business attire. An older woman gave him a wide berth as she hurried around him. Now what?
Had the dying man mistaken the address when he wrote the clue? Griff turned the key over as he paced up and down the sidewalk. Nothing at all to identify it, but the flat surface and distinctive tooth pattern reminded him of one his mother kept mixed in with her jewelry. The key opened a safety deposit box at the bank.
His head jerked up. Was 1775 a box number not an address? But at which bank? He pulled the crumpled letter out of his pocket. Take liberty’s path to Ben’s wealth… Christ, he really was a moron. Not Franklin Street. Franklin Bank. It could be anywhere in the city. What he needed was a phone book…or the Internet. Rolling his eyes, he pulled out his cell and ran a search for Franklin Bank in Boston. Amazingly, the main branch of the financial establishment was located only a few blocks away. Hoisting the duffle, he set out. If the next stop on his quest was within a day’s drive, he’d rent a car. Taking cabs and hoofing it with luggage was already getting annoying.
His steps slowed in front of a white building ostentatiously decorated with Corinthian columns. Staring up at the identifying name plate discretely embedded in the façade, he nearly ran into the auburn-haired beauty he’d noticed earlier. Big brown eyes gazed back at him before she offered a shy smile when he held the door wide. A gust of frigid air struck with the force of an arctic blast. Griff nearly moaned with pleasure.
Following the pair of long, shapely legs bared by a skirt that hit her at mid-thigh, he tore his gaze away to glance around a waiting area boasting real leather chairs. The place obviously catered to Boston’s elite. Clad in a T-shirt and khaki shorts, he was woefully underdressed. With a shrug, he passed by the first teller behind the polished mahogany counter, a dignified older man with a moustache, to stop before a cute young blonde.
“How may I help you, sir?”
“I need to open a safe deposit box.” He held up the silver key.
One window over, ringlet girl shot him a wide-eyed glance before leaning toward the older male clerk to murmur an answer to his greeting.
“Certainly, sir. Have a seat.” The blonde waved toward the leather chairs. “I’ll call someone to assist you.
“Thanks.” Griff retreated, dropped the duffle on the maroon and gold area rug then sat. The leather cushion molded to his ass like a form-fitting wetsuit.
A minute later, the beauty took a seat opposite him.
He cleared his throat. “Hot out there today.” Brilliant opening maneuver. He gave himself a mental slap. She probably thinks I’m dumber than dirt.
Chocolate brown eyes lifted to meet his gaze before darting away. “The air conditioning bill for this monolith would probably feed a third world country.”
“I’m not complaining, just enjoying.” He leaned forward and flashed his most winning smile. “How many times a day do strange men accost you on the street to ask if they can touch your hair?”
She slapped a hand over her mouth, but not before the hint of a grin peeked out. “If I had a nickel for every time someone stopped me—I’d still be broke.”
“Bostonians must be idiots.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m not from around here.”
“Oh, where’re you from?” He held out a hand. “I’m Griff, by the way, Griff Wilde.”
She only hesitated for a moment before taking his palm in a firm grip. “Ainslee Fontaine from…nowhere right now. I’m sort of between jobs at the moment.”
“Yeah? Me, too. I just left Florida to head to the west coast—after a few detours.”
“I—”
She broke off as a stocky man wearing a ferocious scowl along with a suit that must have cost him a couple of grand slammed out of an inner office. The female teller followed and darted a nervous glance toward the sitting area.
“What do you want me to tell them?” Her whisper carried through the quiet lobby.
His back stiffened as he ran a hand through carefully styled blond hair. “I can’t refuse. Damn.” He gave an abrupt nod. “Harvey can take them both back together. I’m out of here. You probably won’t see me for at least a week.”
“Enjoy your time off, Mr. Morris.”
“Let’s hope.” He breezed past the seating area, met Griff’s gaze with a long, cool stare then pushed through the lobby doors. They swooshed shut behind him.
The blonde spoke briefly to her co-worker who nodded and headed in their direction. The clerk stopped in front of them, the tips of his moustache quivering. “If you’ll both follow me, I’ll take you back to the deposit boxes.”
Griff waited for Ainslee to precede him. Was it a coincidence this gorgeous woman who’d admitted she didn’t live in Boston was here to open a safety deposit box?
Not likely.
If the suspicious glance she directed his way was any indication, she’d come to an identical conclusion about him.
He couldn’t suppress a smile as her skirt swished around those dynamite thighs. Hot damn. If she’s a contestant, this game just got a whole lot more interesting.
After pulling out a ring hung with a collection of keys, the clerk led them through a metal door into a room filled with banks of numbered boxes. He turned to Ainslee first. “Your box number?”
“1692.” Her murmured response was barely audible.
Twitching moustache turned Griff’s way. “And yours?”
“1775.”
The clerk unlocked a cabinet door and pulled down two keys. After he’d opened the first numbered compartment with Ainslee’s key and removed a long box from the wall, he directed her into a cubicle. Returning, he held out his hand. Griff slapped the key into his palm then followed the man and the box he retrieved to a second cubicle. Once he was alone, Griff flipped open the lid. A square card with the nearly illegible writing he’d come to despise rested inside the box along with the label off a tequila bottle? What the hell was that about? Not just any tequila, either. He recognized the brand. This one was expensive. Taking the card and label, he left the empty container on the table, grabbed his bag off the floor and headed out of the cubicle past the clerk toward the exit.
“Sir, you’ll need your key back. If you’ll wait one moment…”
“No, I’m finished with the box.”
“But there’s paperwork involved in closing…” When Ainslee rushed past the teller, he raised a hand. “Miss, wait!”
Ainslee’s sandals tapped against the marble tile as she hurried across the lobby behind Griff. He pushed through the entrance doors and into a wave of damp heat then turned to face her.
“Shall we go get something to eat while we hash out the clue? I skipped lunch.”
Her eyes widened. “Clue? I don’t know what—”
“At this point, it seems silly to pretend we aren’t both after the same thing.”
She waved the card still clutched in her hand. It looked just like the one he’d shoved in his pocket.
“Exactly. We’re competitors not allies.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t discuss the situation.”
“Why would I want to do that?” She stepped to the side as an extremely tall black man edged toward the doors.
Griff was no shrimp, but this guy dwarfed him. He glanced up to meet deep brown eyes—and nearly fell over his duffle bag. When the bank doors closed behind him, Griff leaned against one of the fluted columns. “Do you know who that was?”
Ainslee turned back to face him. “No, but I’m certain I’ve never seen a man that handsome who wasn’t on a movie screen.”
Irritation pricked. “I guess he’s okay looking, but try a basketball court, not the movies.”
“Huh?”
One brow shot up. “Not a sports fan?”
“I like to hike and bike, but I don’t watch overgrown boys battle it out in front of screaming crowds. I get enough of that when I’m working.”
He stared. “Do I even want to know what you’re talking about?”
“Probably not. So, who’s the hottie?”
“Parnell Jones. He plays guard for the Lakers. They lost in the playoffs a week ago.”
Her forehead scrunched. “Wasn’t there some scandal about a prostitute and—”
“That was one of his teammates. From what I’ve heard about him, Jones seems like a good guy.”
“What’s he doing in Boston if he plays for Los Angeles?”
“Who knows? It’s the off season so maybe he’s on vacation.” Griff shifted against the column. “Uh, you didn’t answer my question about grabbing something to eat.”
Arms crossed over her chest, she eyed him up and down. “No, I didn’t, did I?”
His defenses rose. “I might not be in Jones’s league, but I clean up pretty well.”
“It isn’t that. I’m sure plenty of women are happy to boost your male ego when it comes to your appearance.” Her lips firmed. “I was simply wondering if you planned to whack me over the head and shove me in a dumpster to get a head start.”
He grinned. “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind.”
Her breath whooshed out. “Just because we had a civil conversation while we waited together doesn’t mean we’re best buds. You’re on your own.”
“You don’t want to even talk about it?”
“Nope.” She gave him another one-two glance. “It was nice meeting you, Griff Wilde. Good luck.”
“Good luck to you, too. Maybe our paths will cross again.”
“Maybe.” Turning, she headed down the street.
“Damn.” Letting out a long sigh, he pried his gaze away from her swaying hips. Now what? He pulled the clue out of his pocket and scowled at the wavering lines of cursive. He couldn’t think on an empty stomach. First he’d find a cab, get something to eat, then figure out where he was going next. He didn’t need Ainslee. He was perfectly fine on his own.
* * * *
Head down, Ainslee hurried through the dimly lit parking garage as she dug her keys from her purse. She’d go somewhere—anywhere—to escape the oppressive heat before she worked on the new clue. Maybe to a park with big, shady trees and lots of cool grass, or to a public library with air conditioning blasting… When a car door slammed, she jumped and glanced up. A corpulent man in a three-piece suit stepped directly into her path. Rocking to a stop, she stumbled and reached out to keep from crashing into him.
A hand clamped onto her arm. “Easy, pretty lady.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She pulled back, but he didn’t loosen his grip.
“I’m not.” Breath laced with alcohol fanned her face. Dark eyes gleamed as his gaze lowered, zeroing in on her breasts. “You’re right on time. Let’s go for a ride.”
“Excuse me?” She jerked harder against his hold, heart pounding. “Let go of me!”
“What’s your problem? I’ve got cash. How much for a couple of hours?”
Fear-induced adrenaline surged. Keys clenched in her fist, she swung her free arm and connected with his nose. Blood spurted.
With a howl, he released her to press a hand to his face. “Bitch! What the hell?”
“Get away from me, you freak!” Ainslee side-stepped around him then ran toward her SUV. With trembling fingers, she pressed the remote lock and jerked open the door. After sliding inside, she stabbed the button to relock it. Safe. Leaning back in the seat, she willed herself to stop shaking.
Muffled curses echoed through the parking structure followed by a woman’s high-pitched voice. Did the lunatic accost someone else?
Inserting the key in the ignition, she started the engine and reversed out of the spot. Down the aisle, the pervert stood with a woman dressed in a leopard print skirt so short it had to be illegal. Flame red hair that had obviously come out of a bottle hung down her back in a tangle of curls. She turned and gave Ainslee a narrow-eyed stare as she drove past. The man pulled a bloody handkerchief away from his face to shout one final obscenity.
Ainslee pressed harder on the gas. The tires squealed as she took the corner way too fast to circle to the next level. Two more floors down, she reached street level and edged out into blinding sunlight. With a marginally steadier hand, she pulled sunglasses from her purse and pushed them onto her nose then let out a long sigh.
“Unbelievable.” She took a couple more calming breaths as she eased up to a stoplight. Damn. Her thought process was as scrambled as the eggs she’d had in her breakfast burrito. Which way should she turn, right or left, to get out of the financial district? The map had slid to the passenger side floor when she threw her purse on the seat. God, she hated driving in city traffic.
“Get it together, Ainslee.” Her voice cracked.
A horn honked behind her.
“Fine, I’ll go straight.”
Pressing on the accelerator, she headed through the intersection and just kept driving. Where she went didn’t really matter since…her head snapped around. Griff Wilde hoofed it down the sidewalk, his duffle bag slung over one broad shoulder. When her SUV pulled even, he glanced her way. Vivid green eyes widened. Without thinking, she jerked the wheel and braked to a stop next to a fire hydrant then pressed the button to lower the passenger side window.
He leaned down and smiled at her through the opening. “We meet again.”
“So it would seem. Do you need a ride somewhere?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. Every cab that’s passed was already occupied.”
“Get in.”
Opening the rear door, he tossed his bag on the backseat before climbing in the front next to her. “Thanks. Which way are you headed?”
She gave a little shrug. “I’m not sure. I…” She swallowed back a rush of tears and blinked furiously.
“Are you okay?”
A shuddering breath escaped. Finally she turned her head to look him in the eye. “Do I look like a prostitute?”
“What?” His voice rose a couple octaves.
“Some moron propositioned me. I just wondered—”
“No. Hell, no. What did you do?”
“Slugged him in the nose.”
“Good for you.” White teeth flashed in a smile. “I like a woman who can take care of herself.”
The tension eased out of her as she smiled back. “I didn’t plan to hit him. It was a gut reaction.” She straightened in her seat and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Where can I take you?”
“I planned to get something to eat. Anywhere nearby is fine.” He waved a hand. “If you take a left at the next light, I think we should find something.”
“Sounds good.” Easing back into traffic, she crossed over to the turn lane.
“Why’d you stop for me? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
She shot him a quick look while she waited for the light to change. “I’m not sure. After that creep grabbed me, maybe I just needed a friend—or at least a friendly face. You were nice to me before…” Her lips tightened. “I apologize for being rude in return.”
“You weren’t rude. Just skeptical. I don’t blame you at all.”
When a warm hand gripped her arm, she jumped and jerked the wheel. Her gaze flew to his face, but his attention was directed elsewhere.
“See that burger joint up ahead. You can drop me there.” He turned toward her. “Are you sure you don’t want to join me? It’s way after lunchtime, so you must be hungry.”
Would it kill her to have a meal with the man? Maybe even discuss the new clue? Ainslee turned into the small parking lot and shut off the engine. Griff Wilde might be a complete stranger, but he didn’t feel like one. Right now, that was reason enough to accept his company.
“Sure. Why not?”
His brows shot up. “Really? That’s great. Let’s go eat.”
Fifteen minutes later, Ainslee sipped a diet cola and snuck glances at her companion as he ate his way through a giant burger and a pile of fries. She wasn’t sure what to make of Griff. The man was open and friendly, not to mention her stomach did backflips when gorgeous green eyes sparkled at her from beneath dark hair badly in need of a trim. Yet something told her he wasn’t as laid back as he seemed. She’d be willing to bet the heart of a competitor beat behind that solid chest. Speaking of which, the guy had a body that curled her toes in her sandals. Odds were he made his living doing something active. No one acquired the biceps displayed beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt by sitting at a desk.
Oddly, his strength wasn’t the least bit intimidating. Ainslee had never picked up a strange man in her life, but Griff Wilde felt more like an old friend than someone she’d met an hour ago. She couldn’t explain it. Didn’t even want to try.
He licked ketchup off an index finger. “So, how are you connected to the old goat who sent us on this crazy chase?”
She frowned. “That isn’t very respectful. The man wanted to pay tribute to his war buddies. I’d call him honorable.”
Griff snorted. “By setting up an elaborate contest pitting us against each other? The original letter mentioned five contestants. Why didn’t he just split this elusive treasure five ways? And what about his own descendants? Why aren’t they in on the hunt?”
“Maybe he didn’t have any.”
“Wrong. I did an Internet search. Victor Talbot had two daughters who produced a half-dozen offspring between them. He has a gazillion great-grandchildren. Or had. The man’s dead, by the way. I checked. He croaked about a month ago. He was worth upwards of seventy million at his death.”
Taking a sip of her soda, she lowered her head and coughed. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope. The descendants are fighting over his estate as we speak.”
She set her glass on the table. “There’s your answer. He didn’t want his treasure to be caught up in the fray.”
Lettuce rained down as Griff lowered his burger to the plate. “Call me a cynic, which I am and you obviously aren’t since you’re so inclined to see the best in the old dude, but I’m still not buying into your noble warrior theory. It took a devious mind to come up with these riddles. Not to mention the damned red herring that sent me running to Philadelphia. I felt like an idiot staring at a cracked bell, wondering how I was going to get past the guards to look inside it for the next clue.”
Giggles escaped the hand she slapped over her mouth. “You’re kidding?”
“Why would I kid about a thing like that? Are you telling me you didn’t go to Philly first?”
“I thought about it for a couple of minutes before I focused on the rest of the riddle.”
“Now I really do feel like a moron.” He picked up the card he’d dropped next to his plate when the waitress brought his food. “Do you want to figure this out together or part company after lunch? Your call, but I’m a team player. I don’t mind sharing the prize, whatever it might be, for the sake of a little company on the journey. I have a feeling we’ll each bring something of value to a partnership. You’re obviously a sharp cookie if you didn’t get fooled, and I have all sorts of positive qualities.”
She hesitated. Wandering around strange cities alone had some serious drawbacks. Just look what had happened in the parking garage. “I don’t know…”
He flexed a bicep and shot her a teasing glance. “No one’s going to bother you if I’m around.”
Did he read my mind?
“How do I know you aren’t worse than the jerk who accosted me earlier? You’ve heard the old expression about jumping out of the frying pan into the fire?”
“Do you want references? I know a congressman—”
She couldn’t hold back a smile at the sincerity shining in his eyes. “I’m not sure being buddies with a politician is a recommendation.”
“Good point, although this one is actually a great guy.” He snapped his fingers. “How about a bishop? After recovering a stash of religious artifacts on a dive, I worked with this old gentleman who’s practically a saint. He’d vouch for me.”
“Or I could just Google sexual predators named Griff Wilde instead.”
“Smart woman. Go for it.”
He busied himself finishing the last of his burger while she tapped on her phone. The closest hit was a Grady Wild. Her gaze came up as she narrowed it on him. “You related to someone named Grady?”
“Not to my knowledge.” He wiped his mouth on a napkin.
The simple gesture stirred areas deep inside she wasn’t so sure needed stirring. Griff was beyond sexy, and he promised to be nothing if not entertaining. Still, if she wanted company, she could always adopt that puppy… She let out a long, slow breath. “I supposed we could join forces on a trial basis. If we get along—great. If not, we’ll go our separate ways.”
“That seems reasonable.” He tapped the card. “Before we unravel the puzzle, maybe we should get better acquainted. You go first while I finish my fries.”
Ainslee sighed. “Not much to tell. I grew up on a farm in Iowa. My great-grandfather died in France, presumably fighting alongside Victor. I heard all about him from my grandmother, who was very proud of the father she never had a chance to know.”
“We have that in common. My grandfather still tells stories about his dad who died in the war. How he taught him to ride a horse when he was very young. I was raised on a ranch in Wyoming.”
“So two of Victor’s buddies were my ancestor, Francis Clark, and your great-grandfather…”
“Hartley Wilde. I wonder who the other three were.”
“I bet we could figure it out through army records.” She sipped her soda. “Though I guess it doesn’t really matter.”
“Probably not. So, you drove here from Iowa? I couldn’t help noticing your SUV is well loaded.”
She shook her head. “No, I’ve been living in New York, teaching high school to a bunch of delinquents who don’t give a crap about getting an education. My positive attitude finally dropped to an all-time low. I quit my job at the end of the school year, packed up my belongings and hit the road. The treasure hunt is sort of a detour while I decide what to do with the rest of my life.”
“Sounds like you gave teaching your best shot. Sometimes you have to cut your losses and move on. I’ve done it more than once.”
“Oh? What do you do? Why would you be talking to a bishop about religious relics?”
“I salvage treasure from wrecked ships. You find all sorts of interesting stuff in those babies.” He wadded his napkin and dropped it on his empty plate. “I just finished a job down near Key West that lasted close to six months.”
“Wow. How old are the ships?”
“Varies. This one was a sixteenth-century Spanish galleon.”
She leaned forward. “I’m jealous. I teach history. You live it.”
Those green eyes twinkled. “Want a job? You’d certainly brighten up my crew.”
She made a face. “I can dogpaddle—sort of.”
His laugh turned heads in the small café. “I do have a few minimum qualifications. Swimming is one of them.”
“Figures. I guess I’ll have to look for alternate employment elsewhere. Where’re you working next?”
“My crew made it clear they need a break. I’m giving them a month or two off, and then I’ll probably head for California.”
“So, for the summer at least, we’re in the same boat. So to speak.”
His quick grin flashed. “Good one.”
“I do have a sense of humor. I wouldn’t have survived the last few years without one.” She pushed away her half-empty salad bowl. “If you’re finished eating, shouldn’t we get to work on the riddle? Our competition could be right behind us. Or ahead of us. Who knows.”
“Fine. You read the damn thing, if you don’t mind. Victor’s writing gives me a headache.”
She pulled the card out of her purse and cleared her throat. “Find the home new to the Dutch long before France sent her lady. Next to a teacup village, go round and round this bush and drink to Speed.”
Griff pushed back his chair, scooped up the bill then dropped a tip next to his plate. “It’s official.”
“What is?”
“Old Victor was either a complete nut case—or a sadist. Not one word of that makes any sense.”
Ainslee stood and followed him up to the cashier. “We may have to rethink our arrangement.”
He handed the teen with purple streaks in her hair working the register a twenty then turned and frowned. “Why? We’ve been getting along great. At least I thought we were.”
“We have been, but I don’t intend to haul around any dead weight.”
Dark brows shot into his hair. “Hey!”
“Mister, your change.”
Grabbing the handful of bills from the girl, he hurried to open the door. “I’m not dead weight. Why would you think that?”
“Victor was clever, but not as smart as I am. I know where we’re going next.”
He laid a hand on her arm. Tingles quivered through her. Maybe her new partner wasn’t great at riddles, but there were plenty of things she bet he did with exceptional skill.
“You do?”
“Yep.” She pointed toward her SUV, looking like a second-class citizen squeezed between two luxury sedans. “Get in if you’re coming. We’re headed back to New York.”