Griff. The man was open and friendly, not to mention her stomach did backflips when gorgeous green eyes sparkled at her from beneath dark hair badly in need of a trim. Yet something told her he wasn’t as laid back as he seemed. She’d be willing to bet the heart of a competitor beat behind that solid chest. Speaking of which, the guy had a body that curled her toes in her sandals. Odds were he made his living doing something active. No one acquired the biceps displayed beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt by sitting at a desk.
Oddly, his strength wasn’t the least bit intimidating. Ainslee had never picked up a strange man in her life, but Griff Wilde felt more like an old friend than someone she’d met an hour ago. She couldn’t explain it. Didn’t even want to try.
He licked ketchup off an index finger. “So, how are you connected to the old goat who sent us on this crazy chase?”
She frowned. “That isn’t very respectful. The man wanted to pay tribute to his war buddies. I’d call him honorable.”
Griff snorted. “By setting up an elaborate contest pitting us against each other? The original letter mentioned five contestants. Why didn’t he just split this elusive treasure five ways? And what about his own descendants? Why aren’t they in on the hunt?”
“Maybe he didn’t have any.”
“Wrong. I did an Internet search. Victor Talbot had two daughters who produced a half-dozen offspring between them. He has a gazillion great-grandchildren. Or had. The man’s dead, by the way. I checked. He croaked about a month ago. He was worth upwards of seventy million at his death.”
Taking a sip of her soda, she lowered her head and coughed. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope. The descendants are fighting over his estate as we speak.”
She set her glass on the table. “There’s your answer. He didn’t want his treasure to be caught up in the fray.”
Lettuce rained down as Griff lowered his burger to the plate. “Call me a cynic, which I am and you obviously aren’t since you’re so inclined to see the best in the old dude, but I’m still not buying into your noble warrior theory. It took a devious mind to come up with these riddles. Not to mention the damned red herring that sent me running to Philadelphia. I felt like an idiot staring at a cracked bell, wondering how I was going to get past the guards to look inside it for the next clue.”
Giggles escaped the hand she slapped over her mouth. “You’re kidding?”
“Why would I kid about a thing like that? Are you telling me you didn’t go to Philly first?”
“I thought about it for a couple of minutes before I focused on the rest of the riddle.”
“Now I really do feel like a moron.” He picked up the card he’d dropped next to his plate when the waitress brought his food. “Do you want to figure this out together or part company after lunch? Your call, but I’m a team player. I don’t mind sharing the prize, whatever it might be, for the sake of a little company on the journey. I have a feeling we’ll each bring something of value to a partnership. You’re obviously a sharp cookie if you didn’t get fooled, and I have all sorts of positive qualities.”
She hesitated. Wandering around strange cities alone had some serious drawbacks. Just look what had happened in the parking garage. “I don’t know…”
He flexed a bicep and shot her a teasing glance. “No one’s going to bother you if I’m around.”
Did he read my mind?
“How do I know you aren’t worse than the jerk who accosted me earlier? You’ve heard the old expression about jumping out of the frying pan into the fire?”
“Do you want references? I know a congressman—”
She couldn’t hold back a smile at the sincerity shining in his eyes. “I’m not sure being buddies with a politician is a recommendation.”
“Good point, although this one is actually a great guy.” He snapped his fingers. “How about a bishop? After recovering a stash of
Birgit Vanderbeke, Jamie Bulloch