Wilde One Read Online Free PDF Page B

religious artifacts on a dive, I worked with this old gentleman who’s practically a saint. He’d vouch for me.”
    “Or I could just Google sexual predators named Griff Wilde instead.”
    “Smart woman. Go for it.”
    He busied himself finishing the last of his burger while she tapped on her phone. The closest hit was a Grady Wild. Her gaze came up as she narrowed it on him. “You related to someone named Grady?”
    “Not to my knowledge.” He wiped his mouth on a napkin.
    The simple gesture stirred areas deep inside she wasn’t so sure needed stirring. Griff was beyond sexy, and he promised to be nothing if not entertaining. Still, if she wanted company, she could always adopt that puppy… She let out a long, slow breath. “I supposed we could join forces on a trial basis. If we get along—great. If not, we’ll go our separate ways.”
    “That seems reasonable.” He tapped the card. “Before we unravel the puzzle, maybe we should get better acquainted. You go first while I finish my fries.”
    Ainslee sighed. “Not much to tell. I grew up on a farm in Iowa. My great-grandfather died in France, presumably fighting alongside Victor. I heard all about him from my grandmother, who was very proud of the father she never had a chance to know.”
    “We have that in common. My grandfather still tells stories about his dad who died in the war. How he taught him to ride a horse when he was very young. I was raised on a ranch in Wyoming.”
    “So two of Victor’s buddies were my ancestor, Francis Clark, and your great-grandfather…”
    “Hartley Wilde. I wonder who the other three were.”
    “I bet we could figure it out through army records.” She sipped her soda. “Though I guess it doesn’t really matter.”
    “Probably not. So, you drove here from Iowa? I couldn’t help noticing your SUV is well loaded.”
    She shook her head. “No, I’ve been living in New York, teaching high school to a bunch of delinquents who don’t give a crap about getting an education. My positive attitude finally dropped to an all-time low. I quit my job at the end of the school year, packed up my belongings and hit the road. The treasure hunt is sort of a detour while I decide what to do with the rest of my life.”
    “Sounds like you gave teaching your best shot. Sometimes you have to cut your losses and move on. I’ve done it more than once.”
    “Oh? What do you do? Why would you be talking to a bishop about religious relics?”
    “I salvage treasure from wrecked ships. You find all sorts of interesting stuff in those babies.” He wadded his napkin and dropped it on his empty plate. “I just finished a job down near Key West that lasted close to six months.”
    “Wow. How old are the ships?”
    “Varies. This one was a sixteenth-century Spanish galleon.”
    She leaned forward. “I’m jealous. I teach history. You live it.”
    Those green eyes twinkled. “Want a job? You’d certainly brighten up my crew.”
    She made a face. “I can dogpaddle—sort of.”
    His laugh turned heads in the small café. “I do have a few minimum qualifications. Swimming is one of them.”
    “Figures. I guess I’ll have to look for alternate employment elsewhere. Where’re you working next?”
    “My crew made it clear they need a break. I’m giving them a month or two off, and then I’ll probably head for California.”
    “So, for the summer at least, we’re in the same boat. So to speak.”
    His quick grin flashed. “Good one.”
    “I do have a sense of humor. I wouldn’t have survived the last few years without one.” She pushed away her half-empty salad bowl. “If you’re finished eating, shouldn’t we get to work on the riddle? Our competition could be right behind us. Or ahead of us. Who knows.”
    “Fine. You read the damn thing, if you don’t mind. Victor’s writing gives me a headache.”
    She pulled the card out of her purse and cleared her throat. “Find the home new to the Dutch long before France sent