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one.”
    “Okay, you’ve got my attention. An underwater ruin off Cuba? That’d be, what, Olmec maybe? Did they make it down that far? Who else was in the area? How old is it? How extensive? What kind of shape is it in? Do we have images yet?” The questions came tumbling out. This was the sort of stuff she lived for. They all did. That’s why they were here—Columbia University had one of the best archaeology departments in the country.
    “Slow down,” her boss told her, chuckling and managing to make those two words sound deeply condescending. She forced a smile. “We don’t know much yet, but what is interesting is that whatever the nature of these ruins, they’re covered in symbols. Could be decoration, could be writing, or both. That’s where you come in. We all know how important the Rosetta stone was to our understanding of language. They’ve got funding to do a proper study. They need an archaeologist on-site, specifically one capable of deciphering those markings.” He looked at her more closely, then offered that slightly uncomfortable grin of his that he thought was so charming. It took her a moment to realize he was beaming with pride. “I promised I’d put our very best on it. That’d be you.”
    She smiled genuinely now. No need to act humble. She really was the best when it came to ancient languages, ideograms, and pictograms. They all knew it—she had an entire wall of articles and presentation plaques and awards to prove she was an asset to the department. “Thanks. But . . . Cuba? I mean . . . Cuba ?” It wasn’t all cigars, smoky rooms, and danzón, mambo, and salsa. It was fine to say women’s rights had progressed since the revolution, but it was still a country founded on machismo, domestic violence, and tourist-fueled prostitution. In other words, no country for a woman like her.
    But Tom surprised her for the second time in as many minutes: “Yes and no. It’s Cuba, obviously, but remember, this thing’s underwater. They can’t exactly drain the ocean. The only people actually on-site are going to be the divers. They’ll be shooting video the whole time, and taking digital images. They’ll upload those to a shared server you’ll have access to. You can work on the whole thing right from the comfort of your own office . . . Don’t say I never do anything for you.”
    “I don’t know what to say,” and she really didn’t. An undiscovered underwater ruin off the coast of Cuba? What an incredible find. It was the kind of thing immortality was built on. Everyone remembered Howard Carter’s name. Something like this could see her name listed beside Arthur Evans, who uncovered the remains of the Minoan civilization, and Kathleen Kenyon, who excavated Jericho and proved it to be the oldest known continuously occupied human settlement. It could be that important.
    Could be.
    That was the thing.
    She couldn’t let herself get carried away before she’d had a chance to set eyes on those markings. They’d give her a clue to its history. But just hearing that it was there made it impossible not to wonder about who the inhabitants of this drowned city were, how it had got there in the first place, how civilization in that area had evolved and finally migrated as the ocean reclaimed their home.
    “Try thanks, it’s an all-purpose way of saying, You did good, boss, and I’ll say it’s my pleasure.” He threw a meaty arm over her shoulder. “I know you’ll do us proud, kiddo. Just think about it for a second. What a find . . .”
    And then he had to go and ruin it.
    He leaned in, and lowered his voice a little. Not exactly husky-sexy, but far from formal. “We should celebrate. How about dinner? Or at least a drink? Or maybe . . .” his voice dropped another half-octave, turning raspy as his arm tightened slightly around her shoulder. She couldn’t help but think of it as a noose. “We should just skip the drinks?”
    “We should definitely skip the drinks,” Finn