Hawk and the Cougar (2 page)

He tossed his case inside and started to get into the truck. Liz couldn’t believe it. He had no intention of giving her even five minutes. She seized the door, yanking it back so hard the old metal creaked. He stared for a long moment, then shoved the door closed. Before she realised his intent, he had her against the car, arms stretched out on both sides of her so that she was trapped against the metal. Her pulse jumped into overdrive.

“You going to use that body to make me
see reason
?” His gaze raked down her length. “You’ll get a lot further than Jack and his sidekick
The Beanstalk
did.” He leaned so close his warm breath bathed her face. “Do you go all the way, sweetheart? Maybe even further? How much would that cost? My soul, maybe?”

“Cost—what the hell is wrong with you?”

His brow lifted as it had in the lecture hall. “Well, well, you have a spine,” he said, in a voice that said it wasn’t her spine he appreciated.

Liz straightened. He didn’t move, and her breasts brushed his chest. Her nipples tightened. Surely, he couldn’t feel her reaction through her lace bra and his shirt
?
Even if he did miss the rock-hard nipples that brushed his chest, he couldn’t miss the hammering of her heart. A mental picture flashed of him towering over Emma as he was her, and the kid melting in his arms.

Liz narrowed her eyes. “What university course does this fall under?” Surprise flicked across his face, and she couldn’t resist a smug smile. “What’s wrong? You don’t know how to
educate
a real woman?”

“You want an education?” He leaned a hair’s breadth closer. Her nipples pressed into the steel of his chest. “I’d say so,” he added in a low voice.

A warning bell went off in her head—too late. His arm shot around her and he yanked her against him. His mouth crashed down on hers, hot, moist,
demanding
. Liz seized his shoulders and shoved, but he crushed her against the car, his belt buckle digging into her stomach. She shoved harder, and he jerked back.

She dragged in a breath, her flesh on fire where he’d gripped her arms. “You son of a bitch, I’ll have you thrown in jail.”

He barked a laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. What will the charges read? ‘Local professor arrested for dishing out the same treatment he got’?”

Liz poked at his chest. He backed up a step as if she’d jabbed him with a shotgun instead of her index finger. “It’ll read ‘attempted rape’, for starters.” She jabbed again, and advanced when he retreated another step. “Then I’ll pay a visit to”—another jab, another step back—“Dean Manning.”

He seized her wrist. “Listen, lady, I’ve had about all of this I’m going to take. You tell Reid—”

“All
you’re
going to take?” She pulled free. The guy was insane. What kind of man had Emma got involved with? “You’re finished.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that a threat?”

Despite the quiver in her stomach, she gave him a disgusted look. “A promise.”

He took the two steps to the driver’s side door, reached inside, and pulled the lever. “Make all the promises you want, but stay away from Manning. He’s got nothing to do with this. He can’t change my mind and he’s got no authority to override my decision. You tell Reid if he fucks with Manning,
or anyone
, he’ll have the Native American Commission down on his head before he can say ‘archaeological dig’.” He got into the truck.

Liz stared. “What are you talking about?” Something was very wrong. “I don’t give a damn about the Native American Commission.”

He turned on the engine. Headlights from a car entering the parking lot behind Liz cut across her legs and illuminated his face. Professor Anthony Hawkins.
Anthony Hawkins
. The name had conjured pictures of a lanky intellectual who didn’t have the slightest idea how to please a woman. This six feet of steel was anything but lanky, and his mouth alone would drive a woman wild. How much of Em’s body had that mouth already explored?

“Stay away from Emma,” Liz warned.

His brows snapped into a frown. “Emma?”

“Stay away from her.”

“Emma Williams?”

Liz glanced over her shoulder at the approaching car. The black Suburban SUV made an unexpected swing in her direction. She jammed her eyes shut against the sudden intrusion of light.

“Move!” Professor Hawkins shouted.

Liz snapped her head around in time to see him leap from the truck. She whirled and faced the oncoming car. What felt like a brick wall crashed into her, and arms clamped around her like steel bands. They hit asphalt, her on top of him in unison with a deafening crash. Wheels screeched. Liz jerked her head up and gasped at the sight of the SUV backing up at full speed. The mammoth vehicle had rammed the Chevy!

The professor jumped to his feet, pulling her up with him, and lunged for the truck. She dug her heels in. He whirled, hauled her over his shoulder, and fairly leapt the few feet to the truck. He tossed her onto the seat as the SUV made a turn toward them.

“Move!” he shouted again, and she barely scooted over before he jumped in.

The Suburban came straight at them. He started the truck and jammed it into gear.

“What’s going on?” Liz demanded.

“Hold on.” He popped the clutch.

The Chevy shot backwards. Liz seized the dash to keep from flying forward, then braced herself when he hit the brakes and jammed into first gear. She dug a hand into the seat crevice in a frantic search for the seatbelt. Headlights filled the cab. She blinked against the glare of light as they raced forward, heading straight for the SUV.

She gripped the arm rest with her free hand, still braced on the dash with the other. “Have you lost your mind?”

He didn’t flinch. Liz scanned for witnesses, but saw no one else in the parking lot. She glanced at the professor. His eyes were straight ahead on the oncoming vehicle, body tense. He was going to do it. He was going to ram the SUV. She swung her gaze onto the speedometer. They were doing thirty-five. The SUV was fifty feet away. They would crash in seconds.

“For God’s sake, pull off,” she pleaded.

“They’ll pull out.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes, I can.”

Thirty feet.

Forty miles per hour. Liz looked out of the passenger side window. Asphalt sped past in a blur of black. She had a better chance of surviving the impact with the ground than a head-on collision in a vehicle that didn’t have seatbelts, much less air bags.

Twenty feet.

She shoved open the door.

“What the hell—”

Tyres squealed and the truck veered right. She slammed into Professor Hawkins. His arm shot around her and he hugged her against him. Liz buried her face in his chest and clutched his shirt as they spun with the force of the empty truck bed. A hard jolt threw her forward, then yanked her back when he hit the brakes. He crushed her closer as they came to a jarring halt.

Liz remained motionless, eyes jammed shut, fingers gripping his shirt so tight her nails bit into her palm.

He twisted, his jaw brushing the top of her head as he looked over his shoulder. “Damn them.” He relaxed back in the seat. “You all right?”

She inhaled a shaky breath and her senses, filled with the aroma of fresh soap, mingled with an earthy scent that reminded her of the desert. Strong fingers cupped her chin and tilted her face upward. He stared down at her. Her heart hammered and her body trembled like an eight-point-nine earthquake. She fought the urge to bury her head in his chest again and burst into tears. Liz dropped her gaze to his lips. His mouth lowered, then stopped a hair’s breadth from hers. She lifted her eyes to his, and his brow rose. She straightened as if suddenly freed from a Jack-in-the-box. He jerked back and she banged her head against the rear-view mirror. Dull pain radiated through her skull.

“Careful,” he said. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Liz rubbed the back of her head. “I’ll hurt myself? You almost kill me, then tell me
I’ll
hurt
myself
? What kind of nut are you? What the hell was that all about? I’m adding attempted murder to the charge of rape.” She fingered the knot on her head.

He reached for the key. “Who are you?”

“The innocent act is getting old.”

He turned the key. The engine whined. He pumped the gas and the motor kicked over. He shifted into gear and eased forward.

“Where are we going?” She glanced back at the building and the door they had exited.

“The door locks from the inside,” he said. “You can’t get back in that way.”

“Just let me out here. I can walk to my car. I want to get as far away from you as possible.”

“Soon enough.” He made a slow turn out of the aisle. “What’s this about me staying away from Emma Williams?”

“I know about the two of you.”

“What do you know?”

“I know you have a relationship with her.”

His attention remained straight ahead as he slowed for the exit. “I don’t sleep with my students.”

“I didn’t expect you to tell the truth.”

“What’s Emma to you?”

“She’s my daughter.”

He turned in her direction and raked his gaze down her in a quick, but thorough appraisal. “Yeah, she’s a wonder kid, only seventeen, but I wouldn’t have pegged you for forty.”

“I’m not,” Liz snapped.

A corner of his mouth twitched. “No need to feel insulted. I said you looked younger.”

She wasn’t younger, but was in no mood to explain—
didn’t want to explain—
which only infuriated her more. “You’re a real sweet talker,” she muttered.

He laughed, a deep, rich laugh that filled the small space. “Cut me some slack. You caught me on a bad day.” He stopped at the street and looked left, then right.

“You can let me out here,” she said.

“Where’s your car?”

Liz gave him a wary look.

“I’m not leaving you here. If those assholes come back, you don’t want them making another run at you. They might not give up so easily.”

A tremor flipped her stomach. “Who are they?”

He turned left onto the street and released a slow breath. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have lousy timing?”

“What?”

He looked at her. “You picked the wrong day to play mother hen, sweetheart.”

Chapter Two

The dark-haired beauty sitting beside him did have lousy timing. They should be in a candlelit room, where they would dance well into the night before he took her back to his place to make love until dawn. But she’d picked tonight to accuse him of sleeping with her daughter. He preferred the mother. His cock pulsed with the erotic picture of the full-bodied brunette beneath him as he brought her to climax with sure, slow thrusts.

How badly had he fucked up his chances of getting her into that position? When he’d seen her in his class, he pegged her as Reid’s second attempt to buy him with a high-priced call girl. The half a dozen young women who had been at the one and only meeting Hawk had agreed to with Reid couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. Hawk had figured this woman was Reid’s response to Hawk’s comment that he didn’t rob the cradle.

Hawk looked at her, careful to keep his eyes on her face and not the breasts that strained against the white T-shirt she wore. “Who told you I have a…relationship with your daughter?”

She hesitated.

“Can’t be Emma,” he said.

“Why not?”

“She strikes me as an honest kid.”

She gave a deprecating laugh. “You’re good.”

“Emma didn’t say we were having an affair. Did she?”

Even in the dim streetlight, Hawk didn’t miss the tinge of red colouring her cheeks. He’d seen too many young female students vie for his attention to believe Emma Williams had lied about their relationship. Despite the fact she was only an undergrad, Hawk had already assigned her senior projects. Had the mother read more into his actions than enthusiasm on his part to take a talented student under his wing and advise her through the PhD process?
 

Hawk slowed and downshifted as he turned left into the building’s front parking lot. “When you get home, talk to your daughter. If there’s any further misunderstanding, come see me.”

“I’ll be seeing you, all right, in the dean’s office—then the police station.”

The dean’s office would be for her daughter. The police station would be for nearly assaulting her. Yep, he’d fucked up. “Where are you parked?” he asked.

“The north side of the lot—the blue Land Cruiser.”

He pulled the truck around and slipped into park behind the older Toyota. She reached for the door.

“I thought Reid sent you.”

“Reid who?”

“Vance Reid,” Hawk replied.

Recognition flickered across her face. “The land developer?”

He nodded. “Those were his boys who nearly ran you down.”

She studied him. “What do they want?”

“They want me to say a dig outside Mesa is Navajo.”