Breathing in Lina’s scent, Hunter waited.
The silence drove her to speak. “Celia sometimes lives on the thinnest edge of legal, but she knows how not to fall off. My father could make a fortune skimming artifacts, but he’s too obsessive about them to let them out of his hands. As long as the family supports his digs, he has no reason to risk the black market for money. Being in charge of a dig is all Philip really cares about.”
“Okay. Abuelita sounds a little old to be actively involved in the illegal artifact or drug trade.”
Lina smiled. “Especially when I call her chichi, which is Mayan for ‘grandmother.’ She’s my mother’s grandmother.”
“Anyone else?”
“If you researched the family, I’m sure you know Carlos was a small-time drug dealer/user back when he was called Carlitos. Abuelita put a stop to that little rebellion. Carlos cleaned up and began doing manual labor for Philip on the digs. When Carlos was old enough to be respected and respectable, he took over running the family cement business. Ultimately, he became a successful cross-border businessman and a respected amateur Mayanist.” Lina faced Hunter directly. “Am I missing anyone on your mental suspect list? Just give me their names and I’ll tell you what I know.”
“Simon Crutchfeldt,” Hunter said.
She blinked with surprise but didn’t miss a beat. “One of Celia’s best clients. He both collects and resells.”
“Reputation?”
“Depends on who you talk to,” Lina said.
“I’m talking to you.”
“I don’t like him professionally or personally.”
“Has Crutchfeldt ever been arrested?” Hunter asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“Would he be a likely receiver of Jase’s missing artifacts?”
“He’s too smart to keep them,” Lina said. “He’s not obsessive like Philip or true collectors.”
“How about being a go-between?”
She let out a long breath. She really didn’t like some of Celia’s clientele. People like Crutchfeldt were why. “It’s possible that Crutchfeldt is a middleman for illegal transactions.”
“Anything is possible,” Hunter said. “How about probable?”
Lina felt like she was being harried into a corner. “All right. Yes. My mother deals with some despicable people. Crutchfeldt is one of them.”
Callused male fingertips brushed over Lina’s lips. “Easy, sweetheart. I’m not attacking you or your family.”
“It sure feels like it.”
“Nobody’s one hundred percent pure,” he said. “Nobody. Once you accept that, life gets a lot easier.”
“Tell that to Caesar’s wife,” she shot back.
Hunter’s smile was a flash of warmth stroking her.
“Such beautiful eyes,” he said, “hot as sin and sweeter than an angel. I’m sure glad you aren’t married. Real glad.”
Lina felt the ground shift under her feet. His words, the touch of his fingers on her lips, his smile, everything about him kept her unsettled.
“Hunter, what are you doing to me?”
“Not near as much as either of us would like.” Reluctantly he withdrew his touch from her soft, warm lips. “Damn. We’re both too tired for what I hope you want.”
Deliberately she looked at the fit of his jeans. “You don’t look too tired.”
“I should be. The last two weeks have been hell. Except for you.”
“Go to bed. I’d hate to have you fall asleep before the, er, main event.”
Hunter’s laughter was even warmer than his smile. She couldn’t help laughing, too.
Then his mouth was over hers, his arms pulling her against every hard inch of his body. She hadn’t known she was still cold until she felt his heat. She gave herself to his kiss, the hot strokes of his tongue, to him. He tasted of night and coffee, salt and man, a storm in the tropics. Her fingers clenched in his hair, holding him closer, afraid he was a dream that would vanish between one breath and the next.
“This is stupid,” he said finally against her lips.
“I know.” She burrowed closer, nipping his chin.
With a groan, he stepped away from her. “Help me, here. I’m trying to do the right thing.”
She licked her lips. “You felt right to me.” Then she shook her head like a dog coming out of water.
“Feeling bushwhacked?” he asked wryly.
“Yes. What is it about you? I’m not like this. I don’t just jump into a man’s arms because I like the way he looks.”
“I’d love to take credit for it, sweetheart, but it wouldn’t be true. Adrenaline is the most underrated drug on the market. Worse than booze for tempting people to break their own rules. So I’ll make you a deal. You look at me like that in the morning and I’ll jump you right back.”
She closed her eyes, carefully not looking at him. Then she sighed, knowing he was right. “Tomorrow.” It felt like forever to her.
His glance went over her like ghostly hands.
“To hell with it,” he said, pulling her back to him. “It’s already tomorrow.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
LINA CAME TO HUNTER EVEN AS HE PULLED HER CLOSER. She breathed out his name when her mouth found his, seeking. The perfume of plumeria and their own scents and the smell of the ocean mixed into something primal, hot, like their kiss. She wasn’t used to wanting a man like this, mind and body savagely insisting, explosive heat and chills and a moan that she couldn’t believe was hers.
“Be sure, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely after he broke the kiss. His mouth nibbled and nipped over her beautiful cheekbones, her lips. “You’re so vulnerable right now.”
“And you aren’t?” she challenged.
Her hips moved over his erection, setting fire to everything.
“I’ve been hard since the first time I saw you.” His voice was more a growl than words. “You get to me like no one since…”
“Pauline?”
Deliberately his teeth closed over Lina’s full bottom lip. “We were teenagers. More hormones than brains. The way you reach into me as an adult scares me almost as much as it turns me on.”
She pulled back a little, just enough to see his eyes clearly. Black rims around the iris, shards of silver and blue of every shade radiating out from the pupil, an intensity that staggered her.
“It’s the same for me,” she said. “I need you in too many ways. I don’t know how to handle the other needs, but this one…” She arched into him again. “This one can be satisfied.”
Hunter’s smile was slow and hot. “We sure can try.”
He looked at her for a long moment while the air crackled between them, lamplight poured over them, and bright dust motes pulsed around them with each breath. The electric dance of the pulse in her neck and the smell of her skin filled him as surely as Suzanne’s death had emptied him. Suddenly everything inside Hunter was too strong, too much to be held by his skin. He needed something else surrounding him, holding him deep.
He needed Lina.
His mouth pressed hard against hers, as demanding as his arms pulling her so close they breathed each other. His fingers ran though the black tide of her hair and he groaned with the perfection of her—hot, woman, his.
Lina’s fingertips dug into Hunter’s back as they fought a sensual battle for control of the embrace. Neither won. Both won. His skin beneath his shirt was tight, hard, yet supple over muscles in a way that shouted he was male. She gloried in it, demanded it, let her hips move against him, and shuddered at the wonder of it. When one of his legs shifted to press between her thighs, breath hissed in. Hers. His. Both.
He turned and braced her against the wall even as her arms locked around him in demand. Their mouths ate at each other, sucked, savored, devoured, needing more and always more. She tried to say something, anything, but all she managed were throaty sounds of hunger and pleasure.