conversation. There was no sign of the blonde assistant who’d brought Dr. Maxwell water and anything else she’d requested during her presentation.
Jaw clenching, she brushed Comb-over’s hand away and took a step toward Pudgy. The small circle broke up, and Pudgy handed her a business card, thanked her with an arm-pumping handshake, then turned and walked up the center aisle, leaving Comb-over alone with the sexy doctor. His eyes took on an excited gleam. Hers screamed Get me the hell out of here.
And watching, Rafe knew he’d just been given his in. He stepped forward.
“Your discussion of the great city of Susa fascinates me.” Comb-over followed Dr. Maxwell up the steps and onto the stage. “I would very much like to continue the conversation, say, over dinner?” She stopped at the table and busied herself by stacking papers in a box at her left, but the guy didn’t take the hint. “Your insight into Darius the Great’s rebuilding of the city is riveting.”
With her back to Comb-over, Dr. Maxwell rolled her eyes. She darted a quick look around, as if searching for an escape. “That’s a very nice offer, Mr. Menlo, but I simply can’t. I already have…plans.”
A smile crept across Rafe’s face. Definitely his in.
He walked quickly up the steps, his dress shoes clicking across the shiny floor. They both turned his way at the sound.
“Querida, there you are. I thought you said you’d be done an hour ago.” He poured on the Spanish accent, dropped his briefcase at his feet and slipped his arm around Dr. Maxwell’s shoulders.
She looked up with a startled expression.
He pulled her against his chest and slid his other hand around her back. Man, the woman was small. Five-four, if she was lucky, but all muscle underneath. And she smelled like fresh gardenias. That was an unexpected treat.
Her body tensed in his arms. Her hand pressed against his chest, warming the skin under his cotton dress shirt. When her mouth opened in protest, he leaned close to her ear so only she could hear him. “Do you want to get away from this guy?”
She paused, as if thinking through her options, but when Comb-over coughed in annoyance, she gave a small nod.
“Good.” He didn’t hide the smile in his voice. “Then kiss me and make it look good.”
She hesitated a split second.
Comb-over coughed again and shuffled forward as if sensing something wasn’t right. “Dr. Maxwell—”
Hesitation forgotten, she quickly eased closer to Rafe, tipped her head up and rose on her toes to fit her mouth to his.
Rafe’s senses went into high gear when her lips brushed his. Soft and silky. And gone way too fast.
She dropped to her feet and eased out of his arms, but her eyes stayed locked on his. “You’re late.”
A smile curled his mouth. Quick on her feet. He liked that. And damn if those eyes weren’t the most amazing color he’d ever seen. Like emeralds polished to a high gleam.
“I arrived as soon as I could. Are you ready?”
She sent him a measuring gaze, her eyes sweeping from his tortoiseshell glasses down to the suit and tie, hovering on the soft-sided briefcase at his feet. With raised brow, she looked up, a sign of obvious interest, and his blood pulsed. Oh yeah, the accent had definitely pushed her over the edge.
Point in your favor, Sullivan.
“I think I am.”
She turned back to Comb-over, standing with wide eyes and open mouth. It was all she could do not to smile, and the knowledge tickled a nerve in Rafe’s stomach. “Mr. Menlo, thank you for your generous offer. As you can see, I already have plans. However, if there’s anything regarding the lecture you’d like to discuss in more detail, you’re certainly welcome to contact my research assistant at the university. 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.”