His Lost Mate (A Steamy Paranormal Romance Novel) (26 page)

Thick gray clouds covered most of the brilliant blue sky. The slight breeze was fragrant with ozone, hinting of an approaching storm.

“We shouldn’t get rain until late this afternoon. When you finish your assignment, you can go exploring if you like. Some of the rooms on the top floor have caved in, but many are well preserved. There’s a great view from the roof.” Deven’s voice softened. “Lauren, I have the feeling you’ve been avoiding me the last few days. Would you like to talk?”

Her skin prickled at the sudden switch to a more intimate conversation. She was still confused about her feelings, and she didn’t want to talk until she could sort things out. She forced herself to look at him directly even though she felt a lump forming in her throat. “I understand why you won’t allow me to dig at that remote site. I’m convinced that if I did, I’d find that owl.”

He nodded solemnly and, thankfully, didn’t roll his eyes. At least he didn’t criticize her this time. “I can understand how strongly you feel, but since the break-in at the museum, our relationship with the government has been strained. This isn’t the best time to request permission on a new site,” Deven interjected.

“Relationships between people can be just as fragile,” she added.

“Our beliefs in the supernatural vary greatly, that doesn’t mean we can’t respect our differences. My sister and Dr. Hughes both support supernatural phenomenon, and I have good personal and professional relationships with them, even though I take a more scientific approach.”

“I don’t know how two people can build a relationship when their beliefs are so different. It’s bound to cause problems in their future.” She watched his expression. He didn’t seem concerned by her comments. His face remained calm and cool while her inside twisted in knots. Tears threatened to burn her eyes, so she looked away.

“I don’t think that our different viewpoints concerning the supernatural should be detrimental to our relationship. But an archaeological project requires research and scientific data, not superstitions or ethereal ideals.”

“Now you’re beginning to sound more like a professor instead of a man discussing his feelings with his lover,” Lauren snapped, meeting his gaze. “You’re very rigid about your project. Are you so focused on your own goals and ideas that no one else’s dreams are worth considering? Isn’t a scientist supposed to open his mind to all possibilities and explore all explanations before reaching a conclusion?”

Deven raised his arms and then dropped them at his sides. He stared at the ground. When he looked up at her, his gray eyes shone with sadness. His expression quelled her anger and made her ache inside, made her want to reach out and touch him, to hold him in her arms. She didn’t move. Tears stung her eyes she blinked them away.

“I have a responsibility to this project. You should understand that. I do have my goals, and I’m driven to attain them, but not at the expense of someone I care about. I’m not your ex-husband, Lauren. Don’t expect every man to treat you like your ex-husband did. I care about you and I wouldn’t take advantage of you for my own gain.”

He cared about her. He didn’t say he was falling in love with her. She wanted to kick something. Why do men always say, “I care about you,” when they really mean they like you, but they’re not in love with you? She was falling in love with him, and this was lousy timing. She wasn’t going to admit her feelings, especially if he only cared for her.

Lauren yanked the global positioning system instrument out of her backpack and turned it on. “Well, I guess I should get started on my assignment. I have a lot to do.”

He nodded. “I’ll check back in a couple hours. That should give you enough time.” He strode off down the trail.

Lauren’s stomach did a flip as she watched him leave. Her emotions were all jumbled. When she managed to put her feelings to the side, she realized the reason for their disagreement was ridiculous. They were arguing over a ghost—whether or not he was real. She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or scream.

Even if Muan was real—and she believed he was—should she listen to the ranting of a ghost? Three days of digging in her grid and she hadn’t found the chisel. Muan told her it was buried below her ceramic find, but it wasn’t there, or she hadn’t dug deep enough yet. If Muan was wrong about the chisel, was he also wrong about the jade owl—its importance and its location?

* * *

Deven didn’t realize he was walking down the wrong trail until he reached The Great Plaza. While deep in thought about Lauren, he’d made a wrong turn and was heading west instead of east. Running his hand over his face, he let out a heavy sigh, spun around and started walking east. The tension between him and Lauren was steadily growing and he didn’t know how to fix it. He wanted to believe her, to believe her crazy supernatural experiences, but the scientist in him couldn’t and he had to be honest with her.

He’d talk to Sylvia and see if she could use her diplomatic charms on the officials to grant a limited permit. It would take weeks, maybe months. Lauren should appreciate his attempt. He wanted to show her that although he couldn’t believe in her ghost, he could still support her and assist her with her goals. When they were finally given permission to dig by the two stelae and no jade owl was recovered, maybe she would depend more on scientific data and less on her esoteric techniques.

Deven heard a commotion high in the trees and saw a flash of bright blue-green colors. Perched on a branch, a quetzal bird twitched its long tail and flapped its wings. He smiled at the rare sight. The quetzal was the most sacred symbol of the ancient Maya, representing freedom and wealth—freedom because the quetzal will die in captivity and wealth because the Maya traded the feathers along with jade.

The jungle represented freedom to him, where his only commitments related to his work. What about commitments in his personal life? He had always managed to avoid serious relationships with his extended trips. He almost took the marriage plunge with Sylvia. Fortunately came to his senses. It would’ve been a disaster for both of them.

If he could repair the damage his relationship with Lauren, he’d like to see what developed. She seemed to have adjusted well to life in the jungle and he would enjoy traveling with her around the world on other projects. His chest tightened. Was he in love with her, or was it infatuation?

After Deven passed the Temple of the Two-Headed Snake, he followed the dirt road to the University of Central Florida’s excavation site. A large area was marked off with grid lines—crates, plastic bags, equipment and hand tools were scattered around the periphery of the site. Several people hunched over dirt holes digging with trowels or sifting dirt. He recognized the lead archaeologist, Dr. Barbara Toth, leaning against a Jeep, jotting in a notebook.

“Barbara.” Deven waved.

She looked up from her notebook, her long brown braid hung over her shoulder.

“Ah, Deven. How are you?” She dropped the notebook in the Jeep’s window and gave him a hug.

“Been diving lately?” Deven referred to her underwater scenic T-shirt with the words “Dive Cozumel” written across the front.

She glanced at her shirt. “Yes,” she said enthusiastically. “Allan and I went to Mexico a couple months ago. Great diving. How’s your dig going? I heard you were held up for a while.”

“A couple of weeks. We’re back on schedule now. Is Allan with you this trip?”

“No, he’s home with the kids. He’ll be down next month. We’ll all have to get together for dinner in town when he comes.”

“I’d like that.”

“Come see what we’ve found.” Barbara strolled toward the dig.

“I heard you discovered an ancient mass grave with a few thousand remains.”

“That’s right. This find is even more puzzling. I’m sure you’ll find this very interesting.”

As Lauren recorded the final coordinate, she checked her watch and saw that she’d finished her assignment well before Deven planned to return. She’d have enough time to explore, climb to the top of the ruins and enjoy the view while she ate a late lunch.

The air was warm, humid and fragrant with tropical flowers and moist grass. Clouds covered most of the blue sky, blocking the intensity of the sun. The stones of the ruins were warm, but didn’t radiate the heat as they would on a bright sunny day. In the distance, Lauren could hear the faint rumbling of thunder. Another late afternoon storm was on the way. By the time Deven came to pick her up, she’d be soaked no doubt.

Although she’d continued to dig the next layer in her grid, she still hadn’t found the chisel that Muan claimed was there. Had she gotten the details of her dream correct?

She had hoped to stay on working at the El Zotz site after she graduated. Now she doubted that Deven would recommend her for any position. If she wrote an impressive paper, demonstrated good technique at the dig and worked extra hard, maybe she could improve her professional relationship.

On one side of the Palace of Windows, she found a set of stone steps and climbed to the roof. After reaching the top, she pulled out a sandwich and a bottle of water and ate while she took in the view. The ruin was perched on top of a small hill, below, dense trees spread out in all directions. In the distance, a few roof combs of the tallest pyramids poked through the tree tops.

Directly overhead, menacing thunderhead clouds roiled into towering masses. Streaks of lightning flashed from beneath the flat base. Thunder clapped and rumbled, making her jump, then a few large drops of rain splattered the stone roof. She snatched up her backpack, ran down the steps and took cover inside the building.

The rain pounded on the roof of the ruins and the wind howled as Lauren wandered through the interconnecting rooms. Each rectangular room was empty except for a stone platform—used as a bed over a thousand years ago—and a narrow window providing a view of the rainforest. Outside, the roar of the storm drowned out the animal and insect chatter in the forest.

She sat on the stone platform and wrapped her arms around her legs. Deven wasn’t due back for another hour. She was stuck there for a while. Besides, he wouldn’t show up until the storm blew over. The sound of gravel pelted the walls and roof of the ruin. When she looked out, she saw pea-size hail. Then she heard another sound.

She closed her eyes and tried to hear over the thundering storm. Footsteps. They were inside the Palace of Windows and coming closer.

Who was in the structure with her? Frantically scanning the room, she looked for an escape. She was in the last room, the window was too narrow and the only door led toward the approaching footsteps. Muan? Whoever it was, she didn’t like the idea of being alone in the structure. She reached for her backpack and took out her pink-handled trowel. Although it made a lame weapon, the point was sharp. Slightly crouched, legs apart, she stood in the center of the room ready to fight if need be.

“Lauren?” Deven’s voice echoed though the empty rooms. “Are you in here?”

Lauren let out the breath she was holding. “Yes, I’m in the last room.”

He stepped inside. His gaze met hers then spied the trowel gripped in her hand. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Planning on stabbing someone or are you going to dig your way out?”

“You scared me. I didn’t know it was you. You’re back early.”

“I saw the storm coming and decided to head back.” He held his drenched shirt away from his body. “I didn’t make it. Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, then wrung it out, making a puddle of water at his feet.

He looked amazing with no shirt. Water streamed down his hard chest. Wearing only shorts and hiking boots, Deven’s appearance sent an aching need to the lower part of her body. She had to remind herself to breathe and close her mouth.

Pursing her lips, she tried to hide her smile. Even though she was still angry with him, she enjoyed watching his body move. She was so drawn to him. It was more than lust. There was something deeper that clicked between them. Despite their differences, she hoped they could work things out.

He spread his shirt on the platform and then ran his fingers through his wet hair.

“How did you do on your assignment?”

“Good. All done.” She resisted the urge to slide her hands across his wet skin. Instead she took a mental stroll over his body—imagined touching his chest, his abdomen, the feel of his muscles as they tensed beneath her fingers. Oh, she wanted his lips on hers again, his weight on her body and his thickness filling her again. Her pulse raced.

“I knew you wouldn’t have a problem.”

“Huh? Oh. I have the hang of the GPS now.” She took a long, slow breath. Her nipples had puckered beneath her tank top. Heat throbbed between her legs.

Deven studied her and nodded, then changed the subject. “Tomorrow I’m going to the museum with Sylvia and I’ll see about applying for a permit to dig at the northwest site.”

“That’s wonderful. Thank you.” She wanted to fling her arms around him and kiss him, but she wasn’t sure if she should. She was afraid he’d push her away.

“I can support your research for the spiritual archaeology theory, but we have to work within the guidelines set by the local government. You can understand that.”

Lauren nodded. She couldn’t ask for more, even though she was anxious to dig up the owl. He was trying to find middle ground on this topic that had caused such tension between them. She admired him for that, and she couldn’t stop staring at his mouth or his chest.

His gaze held hers and for a moment she thought he would try to kiss her. She wanted him to and ached for much more. Her heart leapt in her chest. Then his gaze dropped and he walked to the narrow window. Thunder suddenly cracked then rumbled in the sky and echoed within the stone building. The hail had changed to rain, the downpour pelting the outside walls and the roof.

Lauren looked up to the ceiling. “Hope the roof holds out.”

“Don’t worry, this building has stood for over thirteen hundred years, it can handle a thunderstorm.” Deven raised his arms over his head and rested his hands on either side of the narrow window, peering outside. The position accentuated the coiled hard muscles of his shoulders and back.