been sitting with him while Ian decided his fate.
At least when it came to a bodyguard. Ian couldn’t stop him from leaving this evening. He wasn’t missing this opportunity. He’d been researching this book for five years. Having access to Ricardo Montez’s personal library, to the island and the treasure that was supposedly hidden there, was a biographer’s dream. This book was the key not only to assured tenure, but also to getting this lost gem of a story out in the world.
“So what’d you do to Santiago? Not that it takes much these days.” Hutch sat back, putting his feet up on the conference room table.
“I asked her out.” That was the killer. He wasn’t sure where he’d gone wrong. He’d asked her out. He’d attempted to make sure there wasn’t a miscommunication, and when it was obvious she wasn’t going to answer him, he deleted her number from his phone and hadn’t bothered her again. They’d had such a good connection that night, but he wasn’t the smartest man when it came to dating. He’d missed a cue or something.
Or he hadn’t because she’d been the one to kiss him. She’d been the one to put her lips on his, her eyes glowing in the low light as she’d walked away.
What had happened between that moment and this one? It wasn’t like he hadn’t faced rejection before, but this one had hurt like hell.
Hutch whistled. “Damn. You stepped in it.”
Obviously Hutch had been hired in on Ian’s sarcasm initiative. “Yes, it was clearly a mistake.”
Hutch sighed and sat back. “Tessa’s touchy right now. She was engaged and it ended. It was amicable, but she still has to work with the guy. It’s sad because they’re both nice people. I think she’s got what I like to call the thirty-year-old blues. It’s when all your friends are married and happy and it hasn’t happened for you.”
Maybe the intimacy he’d felt had been one-sided. Maybe she’d taken a look around and realized she could do way better than a professor of history. It wouldn’t be the first time. Hell, he’d had a couple of women who’d dated him so they could meet his happily married stepfather.
Maybe he had the thirty-year-old blues.
His cell phone trilled, and he glanced down. His research assistant. He’d only hired Luis the semester before, and the grad student was already working overtime. Luis Vasquez was a double major in history and Spanish, making him the perfect research assistant. He also had family ties in Argentina, and those had already started paying off as Luis had left for Buenos Aires the day before. David slid a finger across the screen to accept the call. “Did you make it okay?”
“Not only made it to the city, but I’m already here on the island. I managed to get a cell signal and thought I would take advantage. I hope you don’t mind, but I called Eduardo and he said it was all right to come out early. I’m taking some great film for you,” Luis said.
“I thought you wouldn’t be out until later in the week.” He’d been planning to visit with a cousin of his who lived in a seaside town.
“My cousin took off with a girl he met in his math class. They’re on their way to Brazil for the week. I thought work sounded better than sitting in his place alone. I would have to clean it first,” Luis said with a huff, and then a bit of static came over the line.
“I’m glad you got in okay,” David said. “I’ve run into some problems here.”
“I’m sorry. You cut out on me,” Luis said. “This signal is going to drop at any moment. I wanted to let you know that Eduardo’s eager to talk to you. I think he’s found something his dad left, and it’s in a code from what I can tell. He won’t show me,” Luis admitted. “He’s a little manic, but he seems cool. I’m going to go out and get some footage of the estate and talk to some of the people in the town close to here. I thought I’d wait until you get here to go up to the mountain.”
Montaña del Cielo. Heaven’s Mountain. It was on that mountain that Montez had written his manifesto about freedom for all people, decrying the very capitalism that had granted him the money to buy the island in the first place.
Montez’s story was the thing of legend. And it would also make