The Five-Day Dig (37 page)

Her throat tightened. “Thank you,” she croaked.

“Get some sleep, and we will talk tomorrow.”

She hung up and handed the phone back to Signora Vaccula, thanking her with tears in her eyes.

As she and Chaz started down the hall again, she filled him in on the conversation. “I can’t believe he’s being so generous about Sam. Enza is just a teenager –
and
so used to rebelling against her father that this crazy plan probably didn’t seem like a big leap to her. My brother, on the other hand, is an adult and responsible for his decisions.”

“I suspect Dunk was the instigator. His role on ‘The Dig’ and his closeness to Enza gave him unmatched inside information and access to the property. Signore Rentino realizes that. The bloke is sharp as a tack, as much as I hate to admit it to you.”

The hint at possessiveness drew a weak smile from her. “He may have business smarts, but no one tosses out a pun like you do.”

“The straight path to your heart, if I recall.”

“Especially the Latin ones.” She leaned into him, and he put his arm around her as they continued walking.

 
After a beat, he said quietly, “Yet Dunk had it over me with his quasi-Italian slang.”

A pang of grief for the charming TV host hit her. “I'll miss him, in spite of everything. He was so full of life.”

“He was sort of a hero to me for so many years, yet he could have got all of us killed instead of just himself.”

She cringed. “Sam was the explosives guy.”

“They all knew that grenades would be destructive.” His expression hardened. “Even if they thought we were a safe distance from the explosion, they knew the site would suffer damage. They were obsessed with the dig but had no respect for the archaeology. As an archaeologist, I find that almost as hard to forgive as the risk to our lives.”

 
At her door, they stopped and looked at each other. With his face streaked with dust and his hair chaotic, he looked almost as abused as she felt. What little polish or composure she’d ever possessed had deserted her hours ago. She should have been mortified, but she needed his presence. “Stay with me?” she asked.

He broke into a smile. “Of course. Just let me swing by my room to pick up a few things. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

After making sure that she got into her room safely, he kissed her and left.

She went straight to the bathroom to wash her face, but when she saw her dust-caked reflection in the mirror, she opted for the quickest shower ever. As she lathered up both her hair and body with the same liquid soap, she
fretted
over Sam’s fate and how to break the news about him to Christina and their mother. On top of everything else, that prospect overwhelmed her. She would take the Scarlett O’Hara approach and think about it tomorrow.

While she was rushing to dry herself off, Chaz knocked at her door. She threw on a robe and let him in. Also damp and fresh-smelling, he had changed into a tee and shorts and had a duffel bag with him.

“Thank you for being here,” she said, patting down her head with a towel while she closed the door behind him. “Frankly, I’m surprised anyone’s even speaking to me.”

“Don’t count on much talking from me.” He set the bag down in a corner. “I’m shattered.”

“Me, too. Let me just get my hair under control. I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t even bother blow-drying, just brushed out her hair and put on her nightclothes. When she returned to the bedroom, Chaz was setting up the cot.

“What are you doing?”

“Setting up my bed.”

Seriously?
She didn’t know if he meant to tease her, but no way would she let him sleep apart from her. “I thought you were ‘sleeping in the big bed’ this time.”

His gaze shot to meet hers. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“Well, never let it be said I’m not a man of my word.” He folded the cot back up and rolled it into the closet.

She sat down on the mattress and watched him. When he closed the closet and approached the other side of the bed, a little thrill jolted her. She climbed under the covers and lay on her back, suddenly less tired.

When she felt the weight of his body pressing the mattress down beside her, excitement scintillated through her.
Ridiculous.
After everything that happened today, I still want him tonight.
A nervous laugh slipped out of her.

She turned out the bedside lamp. “This feels surreal. Are you sure I’m not still hallucinating from the purple beer?”

“Not a chance.”

She rolled on her side to face him. As her eyes adjusted to the moonlight streaming through the French doors, she could make out that he was on his side, looking at her. After a second of hesitation, she lay her hand on his chest. She could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage. “
I might
be dizzy with exhaustion. But I think I’m just dizzy about you.”

He reached around her and pulled her close to him.

She slid her arms around him, too. Holding him felt amazing.

“Remember when everyone left the temple after the Roman meal, and you started flirting with me?” he asked quietly.

“Of course. I was hallucinating, not drunk. No black-outs.”

“The way you looked at me – I’d been waiting for that look for a long time.”

“I’d been struggling
not
to look at you like that for a long time.” She propped herself up on one elbow. “It’s a relief to let myself do it now.”

“When everyone came back, I thought you’d snap out of it. The drug wasn’t that strong.” He pushed her hair behind her ear, his gaze searching her features. “But you kept looking at me that way, the way you are now. Then you touched my face. That was an intense moment.”

The moment had been powerful for her, too. Replaying it in her mind intoxicated her again. Embarrassed by her vulnerability, she tried to make a joke. “I missed my chance to perform
hieros gamos
with you?”

“Now is your chance.” He looked into her eyes, his expression sober.

She heard her own intake of breath, felt liquid heat brim inside of her. How was it possible this delicious, young specimen of virility wanted her? Her head spun. “I thought you were ‘shattered,’ ” she said, offering him one last out.

“Not too shattered for sacred rites with you.” He pulled her close. “I want you to be mine, well and truly.”

A tingle shivered through her. “Yours? That sounds serious.”

“I wouldn’t be in bed with a friend and colleague if I wasn’t bloody serious. You think it’s easy to find a woman who laughs at Latin jokes?” His erection pressed into her belly, warm and insistent.

A rush of lust erased her last doubts. “I want you to be mine, too.”

She kissed him, savoring the touch and taste of his mouth, sinking her fingers into his damp hair, holding her body against the length of him, constantly aware of his arousal.

When she broke for air, he sowed kisses down her neck. Holding her close, he worked his way down to her breasts, sending sparks of pleasure through her.

She pulled him against her, moaning for him.

He slid his hand into her panties and dipped a finger inside her.

Sweet tension built in her.

She wanted him with her every step of the way. Pushing him onto his back, she swung one leg over him,
straddl
ing his pelvis. They still wore underwear. Only a couple thin layers of cotton separated them.

“No interruptions this time,” he whispered.

“Please, no.” She bent down to kiss him again, pressing her body into him.

He pushed back, jarring against her pelvic bone.

She reached down to straighten her panties, but on the way, her fingers brushed his erection, escaping the waistband of his underwear, slippery, ready.

He gasped.

Her needs got urgent. “Push your pants down.”

Unwilling to take the time to undress, she held herself up just enough for him to lift his hips and push his waistband down to his thighs.

She pulled the crotch of her panties to one side and guided him to the right place. Then she eased herself down on him and practically saw stars as he entered her.

“Ah,” he said. “Thank the gods.”

“Oh, yes.” He felt amazing. As she began to rock on him, she looked at his face and was surprised to see him give her a faint grin. The contrast of the familiar Chaz with the new experience amazed her. Strange that the person she’d thought of as a kid was her lover now. Strange but wonderful.

She took him deeper inside of her. The intensity of sensation jumped up a notch. She moved faster.

His grin faded. “Winnie …”

“No,” she said. “No more waiting.”

They climbed to ecstasy together. When he tensed and shuddered, he set off her orgasm, too. She tried not to shout out and wake the house, hoping they didn’t hear the little yelps that escaped her.

When the shivers ended, she lay on top him. Eventually, she rolled back to her side, still holding him against her. “Amazing. ... How did this ever happen? You were my student.”

“It took forever.” Pulling her close, he kissed her. “But as Caesar said at the Rubicon, “
Alea jacta est
. The die is cast.”

“Mm, thank you for casting it.” She felt dazed, if not hopelessly in love. “I just hope you won’t regret it.”

“Don’t be daft.” He propped his head up, leaning on one elbow to look at her. “You think I haven’t thought this through?”

“Have you?”

“I’ve been thinking about you for ages. You wouldn’t take a hint … until this trip. You finally gave me hope that you might see what I’ve known for a long time: We’re good together. The age difference is nothing.”

Her throat tightened up, this time with happiness. “I’m not sure how much my doubts even had to do with the age difference. After my failed marriage – on top of my dysfunctional family – I didn’t know if I believed in commitment.”

“Do you believe in it now?”

She looked into his eyes. “I believe it’s worth casting the die.”

“Good.” He held her gaze. “It’ll work.”

“I want that ... more than anything.”

“Me, too.” He kissed her again tenderly, then with increasing intensity.