Aztec Gold (2 page)

“Maybe she doesn’t believe you’re serious about going. You didn’t want to go when Rafe invited you.”

Cynthia trailed her spoon through her rice pudding, but then stopped short as she realized she had been drawing some of the lines and images from Cordero’s map.

From Rafe’s map.

“I had other reasons for saying no to Rafe,” she admitted and viciously jabbed the spoon into the pudding to obliterate the evidence of her disquiet.

Silence reigned for long minutes as she and Dani sampled from the respective bowls, but then Dani paused and put down her spoon. Lacing her fingers together on the tabletop, she said, “You’ve been regretting what happened with Rafe for months.”

“What happened with Rafe was probably a long time in coming,” Cynthia shot back. She had always suspected she could never compete with Rafe’s desire for excitement and that he would grow tired of her need for a safe and predictable life.

He had confirmed that when he walked out the door.

With a frustrated sigh, Dani dragged her fingers through her shoulder-length blond hair and looked away, clearly holding back. But then she gazed at Cynthia directly, leaned forward and said, “Maybe you’re a little set in your ways—”

“I like order and stability. Is that so wrong?” Cynthia challenged.

“You can’t keep on living in fear of what happened to your parents,” Dani immediately retorted.

She hated hearing the echo of Rafe’s words from her friend.

“This is so not helping me feel better,” she said and tossed her spoon onto the glass tabletop.

Shaking her head, Dani laid a hand on Cynthia’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I hate seeing you in pain and I think a lot of that pain has to do with them and now with Rafe. But I also think a lot of it is about how you’re down on yourself lately.”

Maybe because she was troubled about the argument with Rafe and maybe even feeling like a bit of a coward, Cynthia thought but didn’t say. Looking away from Dani’s probing gaze, she picked up the spoon and dug into one of the rice puddings once more, not that she could taste the food.

“Cynthia?” Dani pressed.

“I appreciate all that you’ve said.”

Apparently recognizing that she would get nothing else out of her, Dani dug into the chocolate pudding. After spooning it into her mouth, she faked a groan. In an attempt to lighten the mood, she said, “This is definitely better than sex.”

With a laugh, Cynthia added, “And much easier to get.”

Dani chuckled and shook her head. “Actually, I think Rogers might be interested in me. Maybe we could get closer during this trip.”

Her friend’s mention of the attractive older curator at the museum—their Meso-American specialist—brought a smile to Cynthia’s face. Leaning close to Dani, she whispered, “I hate to tell you this, but Bill is gay. If he was hot for anyone, it was probably Rafe.”

Dani choked on her rice pudding and Cynthia reached over, patted her friend’s back until she sucked in a breath and squeaked, “Gay? I never suspected.”

“He won’t be sharing your tent during the expedition. Besides, this won’t be like any other trip you’ve been on before.”

“Why is that?” Dani leaned forward, the eagerness in her voice about the upcoming journey painfully reminding Cynthia of the excitement that entered Rafe’s voice whenever he had been about to go away.

Trying to instill some sense of caution in her normally headstrong friend, she said, “How about a man-eating demon goddess?”

She should never have had that last spoon of caramel rice pudding.

Cynthia rolled over onto her back, wide awake, her body vibrating with need.

She had been dreaming of Rafe. Remembering the last night they had spent together before she had lost him.

The memories were sharp and bittersweet, but she let them come anyway.

He had been spooned against her back, his large, muscled body generating warmth where it nestled against hers. Skin slightly damp from the lovemaking they had just finished. Their breaths shaky as the last of their release slipped from their bodies.

Rafe had still been buried between her legs, the thick length of him starting to ebb as he brought his hand around, caressing one breast and then the other. His other arm was snaked beneath her side, his big hand splayed across her abdomen to keep her close.

As Rafe had stroked the sensitive tip of her breast, she murmured a protest as passion rose within her once again.

“
Amorcito
. It’s never enough for us, Cyn,” he whispered against her ear, bent and nuzzled the side of her face with his nose before he tenderly bit the crook of her neck.

She reached up, holding his head to her, and he began to suck the spot while he grasped the tight tip of her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, applied gentle pressure to it.

“Rafe, that feels so good, but—”

She moaned as he slipped his hand downward and found the nub between her legs. Pressed on the swollen center of her, dragging a shudder from her body.

His erection jerked inside her and hardened, but she wanted more.

She always wanted more of him.

He protested as she moved away, until he realized her intent.

Straddling his thighs, she grasped his cock and dragged her hand up and down the moist length of his erection. Slick with the remnants of their recent passion. Incredibly hard once again with renewed desire.

“Touch me, Rafe,” she said, and with a surge of his powerful body, he sat up against the headboard and she settled herself close, where the slightest of movements would let her take him in.

But not yet.

Rafe dipped one hand down and found her center, caressed her. Rubbed the dampness between her legs across her sensitive essence, pulling a rough shudder from her that he savored as he brought his mouth to hers.

She opened to him, let him explore her mouth and tongue as they continued to build passion with the press and play of their hands. When he eased a finger inside of her, she gasped and he chuckled, playfully bit her bottom lip.

“You like that, Cyn, but I know what you like more.”

He grasped her hips in his big powerful hands and urged her upward, until her breasts were poised before his mouth. Her body was trembling with the anticipation of his lips on her. Slowly he lowered his head to her breast.

He rolled his tongue around the taut tip, teasing her when what she wanted was the rough tug and pull of his mouth. The sharp nip of his teeth, on the edge of pleasure/pain.

She tightened her hand on his erection, stroked harder as if to urge him on. Eased her other hand up to cradle the back of his head, burying her fingers in the dense sable locks of his hair.

He answered her plea, pleasuring her breasts with his teeth and mouth. Using his fingers and hands on her nipples as he moved his lips from one breast to the other.

Her body shook with the pleasure he brought her. Her insides clenched on emptiness as she stroked his erection over and over with her hand. She dropped her hand down and cupped his balls, sensed them tightening until she knew it was time.

As he continued to caress her breasts, she positioned him at the center of her and slowly lowered herself. He was thick, stretching her as she took him in, inch by gratifying inch until he was nestled deep within.

A satisfied sigh escaped her and she cradled Rafe’s head in her hands and searched his handsome features. His eyes were an unusual topaz color, made nearly molten gold as they darkened with his passion. A muscle jumped along the straight line of his jaw as he controlled his need.

He met her gaze directly—they were face-to-face now thanks to the position of their bodies.

She didn’t move, nor did he except to brush his hand across her hair before cupping her face.

“Your passion amazes me,” he whispered softly, as if speaking any louder might shatter the wonder of the moment.

Smiling sexily, she said, “It’s why I’m your Cyn.”

“Cyn-ful, but only for me,
querida
.”

Only for him, she had confirmed on that night so long ago. Only Rafe had ever roused such emotions in her. Such sinful need, she admitted to herself, well aware that it was only in bed that the two of them had shared any compatibility.

In all other aspects, they were totally different.

Rafe was larger than life, both physically and professionally. He had thrived on the thrill of being on a trek to faraway places and in his short career had already made some discoveries that had been garnering the museum media attention.

She, on the other hand, had been content to work through the storage areas and warehouses, cataloguing the many fine artifacts the museum possessed while also examining new relics from other institutions. She had been slowly building her reputation, but on that last night, after they had made love, she and Rafe had argued bitterly.

Rafe had warned her that her slow rise would soon become no rise if she didn’t expand her horizons by venturing outside the museum walls. He had challenged her to consider that someday she would find something important enough for her to take a risk and work past her hurt and fears about her parents.

His last words were tattooed on her brain.

“You’re so afraid of dying that you’re not really living.”

Her heart had clenched at that condemnation since it had struck too close to home. But she wasn’t the only one who lived with fear.

Rafe had always seemed afraid to make a commitment. To treat her as if she was as exciting and important as his adventures.

She wanted—no, she needed that kind of commitment in a relationship, not the on-again, off-again affair they shared whenever Rafe happened to be around from one of his exploits. After his hurtful words, she had told Rafe that she didn’t want to see him again until he could make her a priority in his life.

After the many months of introspection during his absence, Cynthia recognized that he had been right in some respects. She had been only biding time instead of living. She had come to discover in the last several months that she had been vicariously living her life through Rafe’s daring. Without him and his tales of adventure, life had become a dull shell of existence.

She hoped that if Rafe was still alive, he had also come to understand why she wanted more from him than their current relationship.

But what she had to do now was take a chance and go on this expedition so she could get some closure on whatever had happened to Rafe and his crew, and her own painful past.

Rolling over, she grasped the pillow tight to her awakened body. As she slipped her hand downward between her legs, she imagined that it was Rafe’s. Let herself dream of finding Rafe alive and whole when she made it to the fabled city on the map.

There was just one last hurdle she had to clear—her boss, Gardner—but she was determined to make this journey.

Nothing was going to stand in her way.

***

Rosalyn Gardner peered at Cynthia, looking more pleasantly surprised than anything else.

“This is quite a change from your usual routine.”

“I understand, but I’m more than capable of being one of the team members. My background and specialties will assist in identifying and preserving any artifacts that we might find.”

Cynthia ticked off each plus of her participation on a finger, highlighting her experience in addition to the fact that she had survival training. The latter was thanks to a weeklong vacation with Rafe, the sole adventure he had convinced her to go on.

Rosalyn grabbed the file from her desk and thumbed through the pages as Cynthia spoke, worrying Cynthia by her apparent lack of attention. Determined to make her point, she said, “Rosalyn, you are listening to me, aren’t you?”

Rosalyn’s hands stilled on the papers and she glanced at her over the rim of her bifocals. “I’ve listened and while you are probably a qualified candidate—”

“Not probably. I
am
qualified,” she repeated forcefully, wanting there to be no doubt about her earnestness.

“But you’re young. Not even thirty—”

“Danielle Wilson is the same age, and while I have not been on other expeditions for the museum, I have been on similar excursions with my parents.”

The museum director closed the file and with great deliberation, placed it on her desk. She removed her glasses, folded them and switched them back and forth in her hands, obviously delaying.

Cynthia, on the other hand, couldn’t wait a second longer.

“I’m determined to go on this expedition, Rosalyn. I need to know what happened to Rafe. I need to prove something to myself.”

Rosalyn shifted forward in her seat and braced her forearms on her desk. Pointing at her with the glasses in one hand, she said, “And I need you to keep a level head on this mission. Rogers and Booth are all false bravado and you may not be able to really count on them. Wilson is bright and determined but lacks your academic credentials. Since you speak Spanish and are passably capable of Nahuatl, you can help Hernandez with the local guides.”

It took a few seconds for Cynthia to register what her director was implying. “You want me—”

“To be on the team. Hernandez will head up the expedition, of course,” Rosalyn said with a huff as she sank back into the plush padding of her black leather executive chair. “Don’t let me down,” she added, jabbing the glasses in Cynthia’s direction for added emphasis.

Cynthia rubbed her shaking hands across the fine soft wool of her pants and slowly rose from the chair, the file tucked tightly in one hand. “I won’t. I understand Hernandez has been making the arrangements in Mexico.”

“I expect you all to leave for Mexico City within the next day or so. There’s already been some buzz in the professional circles that some very unique artifacts were discovered and the museum is going to have to authenticate them publicly. Once we do it may be difficult to keep the press attention to a minimum. I want you well on your way before that happens.”

“I’ll finalize my arrangements today,” she confirmed with a nod and hurried to the door.

As she grasped the knob, Gardner called out her name and she paused, looked over her shoulder at her director.

“I hope you find the answers you’re looking for.”

“I hope so too, Rosalyn. Thank you for this opportunity,” she replied, eager for the journey for the first time in too long.