“It’s hot as balls,” he said.
Balls. Why couldn’t he have used a different word? Corrie couldn’t help but glance at his crotch when he said it. She chastised herself for being unable to get her mind out of the gutter. Despite the missiles firing in all sorts of directions inside her upon seeing him in all his half-naked glory, her sexual attraction to him accounted for only a small fraction of her thoughts.
Okay, a large fraction. But those weren’t therealreasons she couldn’t get him out of her head.
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier. About standing up for your mom,” she said.
“Corrie, please,” he said, hanging his head. “You have nothing to be apologizing for. You’re only going to make me feel worse if you think you ever need to apologize to me. Not after what I’ve done.”
“I know, but... I know how much your mom means to you. It was a low blow.”
“I deserve worse.”
“Not when it comes to her. You don’t deserve to worry about her.”
His face softened as he looked up at her, as if finally accepting her words.
“Have you figured out what you’re going to do yet?” she asked. “About the payment, I mean.”
He shook his head. “I called the bank today to see if I could get a line of credit, but they said it would take a few weeks for the paperwork.”
“Could you get an advance on the...” Her voice cracked. “On the money from this dig?”
“Based on my last conversation with the investor, I’m not in a position to be asking for favors. I haven’t even told him about the knife yet.”
She cocked her head. “Why not? Isn’t that what he wanted?”
“Yes, but that’sallhe wanted.”
Oh. Corrie didn’t need Ford to spell it out to her—the minute he told the investor about the tecpatl, they’d be pulled out. And even though it meant Ford would have the money he needed for his mom’s treatments, it would also mean Corrie couldn’t finish what she’d set out to do.
She couldn’t let his mom suffer because of whatever this was that was happening between them.
“Where’s the sat phone?” she asked.
“It’s on the desk. Why?”
Corrie walked over to the desk, grabbed the phone, then brought it over to Ford, having to ignore the rise in temperature at being so close to him. “Call the treatment center.”
He looked at the phone like it was a foreign object. “What? Why? I already told you, I don’t have the money.”
“Call them,” she demanded, thrusting the phone in front of him.
He stared at her for a moment, then did what she said. But the moment the phone rang on the other end, she took it from him.
“Lakeview Rehab Center. How can I help you?”
“Quick, what’s your mom’s name?” she whispered to Ford.
“Catherine. Catherine Matthews,” he said, clearly clueless as to what she was planning to do.
Corrie nodded once, then brought the mouthpiece to her lips. “Hi, I’m calling about the payment for Catherine Matthews.”
“What are you doing?” Ford whispered.
“Our accounts and billing department won’t be open until eight a.m., but I’d be happy to see if I can help you,” the voice on the other end said.
“Well, I’m in a remote location overseas and might not be able to call when they are open. Is there any chance you can accept a payment now over the phone?” Corrie responded.
