I’ll be sure to get back to you when I return to San Francisco.”
He mumbled something Rafe couldn’t hear.
Her assistant walked across the stage. “I’ll gather the rest of your things and have them sent back to the hotel, Dr. Maxwell.”
“Thanks, Greta.”
Dr. Maxwell’s gaze followed Comb-over as he made his way down the stairs and disappeared up the aisle. When he was out of earshot, she looked back at Rafe. “‘Thank you’ doesn’t quite seem good enough.” She held out her hand. “Lisa Maxwell.”
He brought her delicate fingers to his lips. No rings. No tan lines from missing jewelry. “Helping a damsel in distress is a gentleman’s duty. And the pleasure was all mine, Dr. Maxwell.”
Her expression said You’re full of shit, but the slightest blush crept across her cheeks as his lips skimmed her fingers. She pulled her hand back when he lowered it. “It’s Lisa.”
He couldn’t help but smile. This was going to be so much easier than he’d planned. Regardless of profession, women were way too predictable.
“Rafael Garcia. You looked like you needed a quick out there.”
She leaned a hip against the table. “Some men just don’t know how to take a hint.”
She definitely wasn’t sending him the same one. Her gaze traveled the length of his body again before landing on his eyes, and from the interest flaring in those shining emeralds, she obviously liked what she saw. “Did you attend the lecture, Mr. Garcia?”
“Rafe. Yes, I did. I found it quite interesting. I’m a history professor at the University of Barcelona, and I have a personal interest in Ancient Greece. Your grasp of the Greek influence on Persia was right on.”
She grinned and eased away from the table, lifting her purse and slipping the strap over her shoulder. “Well, now. That’s a relief. I was worried for a moment.”
He didn’t miss the sarcasm. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to imply you’re green.”
She ran fingers through her short red hair. “I’m used to it. An American woman lecturing about archaeology in Europe is often discredited as not having a clue what she’s talking about.”
“Tough profession to be in.”
“You have no idea.” She extended her hand. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Garcia. And thank you for coming to my rescue.”
He held her silky fingers, not letting her slip away. “You realize that man is probably waiting outside for you. If you leave without me, he will probably try to corner you again.”
She tipped her head. “I’m sure I can handle him. But just out of curiosity, what did you have in mind?”
“How about a drink?”
“So you can pepper me with questions about Ancient Greece and find flaws in my research?”
His lips curled. He had something a little more enjoyable in mind. “No, so I can listen to your husky voice and stare into those gorgeous eyes for an hour before I have to catch my plane.”
She laughed. “Now that’s the most honest answer I’ve heard all day. You know what? I’m suddenly feeling rather thirsty. You’re on, Mr. Garcia.”
***
That accent was going to do her in.
Lisa lifted her wineglass and glanced over the rim at the man seated across from her. She’d always been a sucker for an accent.
It didn’t hurt he was sexy as hell—a real-life Antonio Banderas within her grasp. Dark, slicked-back hair with a touch of wave, piercing black eyes, golden skin and the cutest ass she’d ever seen in a pair of slacks. She’d almost asked him to walk ahead of her as they’d strolled through the streets of Milan, just so she could take in the view.
Rafael Garcia sure didn’t look like a boring history professor, but judging from the Greek mythological facts he was rattling off, he knew his stuff. If she were being honest, she’d have to admit she really didn’t care what he was rambling about; she’d been focused solely on the sound of his voice for the last half hour. Forget the Greeks. She could spend a whole day getting lost in that sultry Spanish accent.
Kissing him had been an impulse. She could easily have sidestepped the boring Professor Menlo from England, but she’d been intrigued by Rafe’s boldness. Not just that, but also by his spicy scent and that solid chest suddenly pressed against her. Lord, she was a piece of work. The sad truth was, she’d been buried in research too long, focused on the Furies way more than she should be. She’d neglected her personal life to the point where it was almost