The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,29

of her fingers and traveled all the way down to her feet. She couldn’t let go. She wanted to stay angry with him for the way he’d cornered her. Outraged. Something. Anything that didn’t feel quite so much like the need to kiss him again. Flustered, she dropped his hand and jumped to her feet to move away.

Ian stood, too. “Please help me with the falcon?”

Absorbed in the movement of his mouth, she hardly registered his words. Her pulse raced. She managed a nod.

He reached for her hand again and shook it, smiling a little. The contact surged through her body. His gaze dropped to her mouth and the smile faded. Her every nerve screamed “Kiss me,” and to hell with their baggage. Do it, just do it.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, he bent his head closer. His gaze caught hers and sizzled.

A wild shriek from outside brought them reeling apart. Faith. In an instant, her fog of desire washed away in a flood of fear. Sara bolted from the tent to see what had happened.

Dustin stood at the edge of the dig, chuckling. Faith sprawled on the ground several feet away, shaking with laughter.

“What’s wrong?” Sara called. God, she was getting jumpy.

Her sister clambered to her feet and windmilled her finger in the air. “We were doing the victory dance over the good news, and I slipped.”

Thomas ambled toward them with a bucket of tools. “Don’t get victorious just yet. We’ve got a long way to go, and that’s not counting the uncertainty of finding any artifacts.”

“Spoilsport,” Faith groused.

Sara felt Ian come up behind her. Her skin tingled in response. “We’ll have help,” she blurted. “Lambertson’s coming in a few days with more people. And until then, Ian’s offered to pitch in.”

Faith, Dustin, and Thomas swiveled as one to stare at her. Sara took a quick step away from Ian. “In exchange for my helping him with his wildlife project. I’ll need a couple hours the next few afternoons. I’ll make up the time after dinner...uh, doing charts or something.”

Okay, now she was babbling. And why did she feel like she had to explain this to them? She wanted to go back to her tent and crawl under the cot in mortification.

“Lambertson,” Ian said. “He’s a big-time archaeologist, right?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Luis Rivero talks about him all the time. Lambertson’s kind of like his god.”

Sara gave a small, edgy laugh. “Yeah, he has that effect on people. I guess we should start by giving you a tour of our project, then?”

“Sure.” He cast a meaningful glance back at her tent, but then he grinned and started toward the ruin.

She offered up a silent prayer for strength, and jogged after him.

As she showed Ian around the dig, the team fell back into the rhythm of their work. The men appeared delighted to have another strong back to add to their crew, if only for a little while. Faith didn’t seem so easily persuaded. Her sister labored over a plot of earth with her shovel, not speaking. Sara picked up another pair of shovels for herself and Ian, then descended into the pit.

Faith glared at her. Not now, Sara mouthed, glaring back.

For most of the day, she worked side-by-side with Ian on one end of the excavation site. He asked intelligent questions, and listened to her answers with a scientist’s ear. His interest in her work surprised and pleased her.

She found it hard not to stare when he hefted shovelfuls of earth as if they weighed nothing. Thunk. The shovel bit into the peat. Shoosh. Soil and stone hissed off the metal blade and sailed into the wheelbarrow outside the pit. Almost before that scoop had thumped to a rest in the wheelbarrow, he’d started on the next. The sheer physical demand of digging often left her body aching by the end of the day.

Ian seemed to have enough stamina for both of them.

Heated flames poured into her cheeks and she looked away…but not for long. Her gaze returned to him as if drawn by a magnet. He’d thrown aside the fleece jacket as the day’s warmth increased, and the back of his T-shirt was dark with a vee of sweat. His hair lay plastered to his scalp. A bead of perspiration ran down his unshaven cheek. Did men have any idea how sexy they looked while doing manual labor?

He caught her eye and smiled. The work seemed to have loosened his knots where she was concerned...or at least he