Hawk and the Cougar Read Online Free PDF Page B

her cheek, then lifted his brows. “Almost.”

Chapter Five

    Liz lay with her stomach to the ground, digging inch by inch in a twenty-four by twenty-four inch plot. The tedious work had allowed her mind to replay and replay what had happened between her and Hawk, and she couldn’t deny why she’d done it—or how badly she wanted a repeat performance. He’d risked his life for hers, a possibility not every woman got the opportunity to test, and he was honest. Package that in six feet of bronzed steel, and she didn’t stand a chance. Coming here had been a huge mistake.
    A shadow fell across her and she glanced up. Hawk stood over her.
    “Lunchtime.” He lifted a soft-cover cooler. “I’ll share.”
    Sun glared behind him in a blaze of orange that emphasised his angular face and the patch of tanned chest visible above the open collar of his white shirt. Her pulse skipped a beat. She had to quit now, while she still had the ability to do so. He bent, and Liz glimpsed determination in his eyes as he grasped her arm. Awareness jumpstarted her heart when his fingers tightened and he pulled her up. He kept a light, but firm hold as she stepped over the twine that separated the dig from the rest of the desert. Liz glanced at the students who sat cross-legged in the shade of the nearest pillar. They were absorbed in food and each other.
    “Hawk,” she began.
    “Over here,” he cut in, and led her toward the pillars on the opposite side of the small compound.
    He stopped within the broad strips of shade cast by the cluster of large stones.
    “I really think—”
    “It’s lunch, Liz. What do you expect to happen?” Her cheeks warmed, and he laughed. “Fair enough. But you can relax. As much as I’d like to pick up where we left off, I won’t touch you in plain view of the students.”
      Her stomach gelled. There was no missing the implication that, once they were out of sight, he would touch her again. He gently urged her to sit and she complied, as much out of a desire not to embarrass herself as the fact that she feared her legs would give way. Hawk opened the cooler and pulled out a napkin, then laid bottled water, barbecued chicken, cornbread, fresh tomatoes and chocolate chip cookies on the cloth.
    “You do come prepared,” she said.
    He grinned. “A man gets hungry out here.”
    “So does a woman,” she had to admit.
    “I didn’t bring plates,” he said. “Just dig in with your fingers.”
    She opened a bottle of water, dribbled a few drops on her hands, then wiped them on the dusty coveralls, only to have the dust turn muddy.
    “You spend enough time out here and you’ll have dust in your veins instead of blood,” Hawk said.
    Liz grimaced. “I think I’m halfway there.”
    She grabbed a chicken leg, then leant back against the stone and bit into the meat. The tang of the barbecue sauce burst across her tongue. “Perfect.”
    He nodded. “Nothing better than cold barbecue.”
    They ate in silence for a few minutes before Liz said, “I’m surprised you’re in the field. Isn’t bioarchaeology conducted in a lab?”
    He took a swig of water and washed down the ample slice of cornbread he’d eaten. “It is. But this is where it all begins.” He stretched out his legs and crossed ankle over ankle. “You can’t know the material you’re analysing until you see where it comes from, feel the dirt on your fingers”—he lifted a hand and looked at his dark fingers—“and beneath your fingernails.” Hawk released a slow breath, his gaze on the desert that stretched out before them. “There’s nothing like being out here.” His eyes shifted to her. “Plus, I like getting dirty.”
    Liz startled, then snorted. “Very funny. What got you into archaeology?”
    He dug a thigh from the plastic tub of chicken. “Two pieces of damned good luck.” He bit into the chicken.
    “What do you mean?”
    “A history teacher and one tenacious ASU archaeology professor. Not many kids who grow up