Chapter Five

Liz lay with her stomach to the ground, digging inch by inch in a twenty-four by twenty-four inch plot. The tedious work allowed her mind to replay and replay what had happened between her and Hawk, and she couldn’t deny why she’d done it—or how badly she wanted a repeat performance. He’d risked his life for hers, a possibility not every woman got the opportunity to test, and he was honest. Package that in six feet of bronzed steel, and she didn’t stand a chance. Coming here had been a huge mistake.

A shadow fell across her, and she glanced up. Hawk stood over her.

“Lunchtime.” He lifted a soft-cover cooler. “I’ll share.”

The sun glared behind him in a blaze of orange that emphasized his angular face and the patch of tanned chest visible above the open collar of his white shirt. Her pulse skipped a beat. She had to quit now while she still had the ability to do so. He bent, and Liz glimpsed determination in his eyes as he grasped her arm. Awareness jumpstarted her heart when his fingers tightened and he pulled her up. He kept a light but firm hold as she stepped over the twine that separated the dig from the rest of the desert.

Liz glanced at the students who sat cross-legged in the shade of the nearest pillar. They were absorbed in food and each other.

“Hawk,” she began.

“Over here,” he cut.

Liz sighed and allowed him to lead her to the pillars on the opposite side of the small compound. He stopped within the broad strips of shade cast by the cluster of large stones.

“I really think—”

“It’s lunch, Liz. What do you expect to happen?” Her cheeks warmed, and he laughed. “Fair enough. But you can relax. As much as I’d like to pick up where we left off, I won’t touch you in plain view of the students.”

Her stomach gelled. There was no missing the implication that, once they were out of sight, he would touch her again. He gently urged her to sit, and she complied, as much out of a desire not to embarrass herself as the fact that she feared her legs would give way. Hawk opened the cooler and pulled out a napkin, then laid bottled water, barbecued chicken, cornbread, fresh tomatoes, and chocolate chip cookies on the cloth.

“You do come prepared,” she said.

He grinned. “A man gets hungry out here.”

“So does a woman,” she had to admit.

“I didn’t bring plates,” he said. “Just dig in with your fingers.”

She opened a bottle of water, dribbled a few drops on her hands, then wiped them on the dusty coveralls, only to have the dust turn muddy.

“You spend enough time out here, and you’ll have dust in your veins instead of blood,” Hawk said.

Liz grimaced. “I think I’m halfway there.”

She grabbed a chicken leg, then leaned back against the stone and bit into the meat. The tang of the barbecue sauce burst across her tongue. “Perfect.”

He nodded. “Nothing better than cold barbecue.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Liz said, “I’m surprised you’re in the field. Isn’t bioarchaeology conducted in a lab?”

Hawk took a swig of water and washed down the ample slice of cornbread he’d eaten. “It is. But this is where it all begins.” He stretched out his legs and crossed ankle over ankle. “You can’t know the material you’re analyzing until you see where it comes from, feel the dirt on your fingers.” He lifted a hand and looked at his dark fingers. “And beneath your fingernails.” He released a slow breath, his gaze on the desert that stretched out before them. “There’s nothing like being out here.” His eyes shifted to her. “Plus, I like getting dirty.”

Liz startled, then snorted. “Very funny. What got you into archaeology?”

He dug a thigh from the plastic tub. “Two pieces of damned good luck.” He bit into the chicken.

“What do you mean?”

“A history teacher and one tenacious ASU archaeology professor. Not many kids who grow up on reservations make it into graduate programs.”

Mortification warmed her cheeks. “Hawk, I—”

He shook his head. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”

“I didn’t even think about it,” she said.

“That’s not a bad thing—not totally. You didn’t stereotype me.”

“Who could possibly stereotype you?”

He chuckled. “I guess they don’t know me the way you do.”

This time, heat pooled between her legs and tugged hard.

He took another bite of chicken. “What about you? What do you do?”

“I manage a clothing manufacturing plant.”

His brows rose. “Tough job.”

She thought of the phone call she would have to make tomorrow to GFW Industries if they forestalled the payment due to Leland Industries, and laughed. “It has its moments.” Liz grimaced. “But I’m much more boring than you are.”

“You’re anything but boring, sweetheart.” Fire burned in his eyes.

Her heart skipped. “I…I… Stop looking at me like that.”

“I plan to do a lot more than look, first chance I get.”

Moisture dampened her panties. “You promised to be good.”

“You’re sitting twelve inches from me, Liz. I am being good.”

“Your students don’t have to hear us to guess what we’re talking about,” she said. “It’s written all over your face, for God’s sake.”

“There’s plenty of privacy on the other side of that southwest pillar,” he replied matter-of-factly.

She gaped. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m a helluva lot more than that.”

Damn him, he was. She grabbed her water and took a long swig.

“You must want me bad to need that water.”

She choked, then spewed water. Water sucked down her windpipe. She wheezed.

Hawk gave her a hearty slap on the back. “You okay?”

Her vision blurred, but she still discerned the amusement and satisfaction in his eyes. Liz opened her mouth to tell him to take a flying leap. Instead, she dragged in another harsh breath.

“Breathe easy,” he coaxed.

She shot him a dark look.

“It’s not my fault.” He rubbed gentle circles on her back.

The constriction in her throat eased. She took a small sip of water and was rewarded with a cooling sensation on the way down. She released a breath and wiped at the moisture in the corners of her eyes.

“Next time, take it easy with the water,” he said.

“Next time, I’ll take you over my knee.”

His mouth twitched into a smile. “Promise?”

She groaned, tore a hunk off the chicken leg with her teeth, and wondered what it would be like to do the same to him.

****

Sunlight skimmed the distant edge of the desert when Liz looked up from where she lay brushing loose dirt from the hard ground. Nearby, Hawk gave instructions to the last two remaining students, and Liz knew what she’d known for the last two hours—she’d stayed too long.

“I’ll see you here, tomorrow after class,” he said. “Katie, you’re in charge until I get here.”

The girl nodded, and she, along with the young man standing beside her, turned and headed toward the cars. Hawk faced Liz as she rose from where she’d given a final few brush strokes to the section of dirt she’d been working on.

“Not so much as an arrowhead,” she said.

He laughed. “Such is the life of an archaeologist. Ninety-eight per cent of the ground we dig doesn’t yield anything.”

Liz grimaced. “The digs Em and I went on always yielded something.”

“You were paying customers.” Hawk grasped her arm and squeezed. “I promise to make up for all your hard work.” He winked.

She couldn’t help a laugh. He looked like a big kid. Liz sobered. That was exactly what he was. But she’d left that stage of life behind long ago. “Hawk—”

“Here it is. You’ve had all day to conjure up reasons not to see me.”

She shrugged. “It was inevitable.”

“Just as this is inevitable.” His fingers tightened on her flesh.

She resisted, but he gently drew her to him.

“Hawk,” she managed before his mouth lowered onto hers.

His moist lips pressed against hers sent Liz into a tailspin. Just as she’d known it would. He was right; she wanted him. But he was also right in that she’d had all day to own up to why nothing could happen between them.

Liz broke the kiss, breathing hard, and leaned her head against his chest. The hard thump of his heart made her want to listen to the sound until past dawn.

A short, torrid affair would do her good. But, damn it, even if Hawk was capable of separating their relationship from his relationship with Emma, when things went bad, Emma wouldn’t be. And a friend like Professor Anthony Hawkins could make all the difference to her success.

“You are a powerful temptation,” Liz said through a shaky breath.

A strangled laugh broke from him. “Only a temptation? That doesn’t even come close to what you are to me.”

She lifted her head and met his gaze. “I’ve never let my personal life interfere with Emma’s well-being—until today. I can’t let it happen again.”

“What do you expect to happen?” he asked.

“I expect explosive sex, then just as explosive a breakup.”

A corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. “I scared you with that kiss last night, didn’t I? And probably my driving, too?”

Liz blinked, then laughed. “Last night was…unusual, but, no.” She couldn’t resist tracing a finger along his jaw. “You saved my life, and you didn’t have to do that.”

His eyes darkened. “God damn it, Liz, talk to me in that voice, and you drive me out of my mind.”

Her insides liquefied. They stared at each other for a long moment before she stepped back.

“Do you really think I’m incapable of separating my personal life from my professional life?” he asked.

“I think you haven’t been tested like this. Have you ever been involved with a student’s mother?” Regret rolled over her. If he said yes, if she wasn’t the first mother whose panties he’d got into with little resistance…

“No,” he replied.

Relief gave way to reality. “Then you can’t know what you’ll do.”

“Have you ever had a relationship with a younger man?” he asked.

She shot him a withering look.

“I’m not a child, Liz.”

Her stomach did a flip. That voice didn’t belong to a child. Neither did the determination and desire in his eyes.

“I’m not an asshole, either,” he added.

“Can you blame me for wanting to protect Emma?” she asked.

“I can blame you for using her as an excuse.”

“An excuse? You’re out of your mind.”

“You said that last night. Yet, here you are.” Before she could reply he added, “Just because I haven’t been involved with a student’s mother, doesn’t mean I haven’t been tested, and in the toughest way a man can be tested.”

Liz frowned in confusion.

“Marriage.”

She blinked. “You’re married?”

“Was,” he said. “I told you I’m not an asshole. We’re divorced.”

“Divorced? What woman would divorce you?” The words were out of her mouth before she realized it.

“I divorced her.” Hawk grinned. “But I like the way you think.”

Liz wasn’t sure whether to feel wariness or just plain curiosity. Curiosity won out. “Why did you divorce her?”

“Let’s just say I took fidelity more seriously than she did.”

This time, Liz couldn’t stop her mouth from falling open. “I don’t believe you.”

He lifted a brow. “Are you saying women are incapable of being unfaithful, or is it that men are incapable of being faithful?”

What woman in her right mind would look at another man with him around? How could she possibly have the energy? The glimpse Liz had gotten of his character said he was a good man, and his lovemaking… What had been wrong with his wife?

Liz gave him a soft smile. “I’m saying I’m sorry. Divorce is a terrible thing.”

“Sometimes it beats the alternative.”

The words were lighthearted, but Liz didn’t miss the hint of pain.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me?”

“Emma’s father?”

Liz grimaced inwardly. Turnabout was fair play. “He left when she was three.”

Hawk frowned. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. He decided a wife and a child weren’t what he wanted.”

Disbelief crossed Hawk’s expression, then he snorted in disgust. “He discovered that a little too late. I’m sorry, Liz.”

She smiled. “Sounds like we’re both sorry.”

His mood didn’t lighten. “Maybe, but your husband had a daughter to consider. I can deal with the fallout of my mistake. Kids change everything.”

Her heart warmed. He would make a good father. When that time came, he would understand. “A mother doesn’t sleep with her daughter’s professor,” she said in a quiet voice.

A smile touched his mouth. “Dinner. That’s all I’m asking.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t take more,” he said with startling honesty. “Hell, look at you. What man would turn you down? But what I’m saying is, I’ll settle for dinner—tonight.”

“It won’t end there, and you know it.”

He studied her. “Sounds to me like it’s you who doesn’t think it can’t end there.”

Liz racked her brain for a response, but he saved her from the embarrassment of an answer he was sure to see straight through.

“Come on.” He started them toward the rise. “It’s getting dark. Let’s get back to town. I know this great place.” She started to argue, but he cut her off. “Don’t worry. It’s an overly crowded cantina on the west side. There isn’t a private corner in the place where I could get my hands between your legs.”

Butterflies leapt into a riotous dance inside her stomach at the memory of his hands between her legs, his mouth… How would she get through dinner without begging him to do that to her again?