“I just can’t wait to see what’s inside,” he squealed with the thrill. I rolled my eyes.
“Aren’t you a tad curious?” Andrew asked.
It took me a second to realize he was talking to me. I met his gaze, and my stomach fluttered. His stare held an emotion, but I couldn’t identify it. Was he hoping I cared about what was inside this darn box? Would I hurt his feelings if I said no?
At this precise moment, I should have been on a beach holding a coconut cocktail. Instead, I was in an air-condition-less building, with my wrist pressed against a threatening-looking box—that might or might not be booby-trapped.
I smiled my liar smile and said, “Of course, I’m curious.”
“Why is it not doing anything?” Dr. Garcia pulled a handkerchief from the inner pocket of his jacket and wiped his forehead. “Dr. Jones, do something.” He sounded more frustrated than the situation called for.
“Keep your arm in place,” Andrew said. While still squatting, he moved sideways and bumped my thigh with his shoulder. I shimmied aside, giving him some space. His left hand came over my wrist, and he applied pressure to the bracelet. The warmth of his touch radiated through my skin, traveling up my arm and spreading over my body. I closed my eyes for a moment, relishing this forgotten sensation.
There was a metallic click and then another. My eyes went wide, and I stared at the box. My pulse racing with… did I dare to say with excitement?
Another click.
And then one more.
And then nothing else happened.
“It didn’t open,” I said.
“Thank you for pointing out the obvious,” Andrew mumbled, with a deep crease between his eyebrows.
“I don’t understand.” Dr. Garcia scurried to the table and peered at the box. “Something should have happened.”
“Are you sure you have the right bracelet?” William said.
“Yes,” Dr. Garcia said. “Augustine Pérez had several chests like these, and the only way to open them was with the bracelet he made as a key for his wife, Maria.” He sunk into a reclining chair, dropping his arms on his lap. “I don’t understand.”
Andrew’s hand was atop my wrist, and he shuffled more, pressing his shoulder against my thigh. I would have moved away, but my arm wasn’t long enough to reach the stupid box.
“How long do I need to stand like this?” I asked.
“Just a few more seconds.” Applying pressure to my wrist, Andrew rose to his full height, and with his right hand, he pulled a desk lamp closer and turned it on. He scanned different parts of the chest, his eyebrows drawn together. While he was studying the mysterious trunk, I studied him.
My mouth went dry.
“Adriana,” he whispered without looking at me.
“Yes?” I whispered back.
“You’re staring at me.”
My nose twitched.
Dang it.
My nervous tic was back. Growing up, I twitched so much that kids teased me on a daily basis and gave me the nickname “twitchy”. As I got older I got better at controlling it, so today was the first time it had twitched like this in many years. I turned away, pretending I had to wipe my nose.
“Don’t move.” Andrew’s right hand came over my wrist before he removed his other one. “We need to keep a steady pressure on the bracelet as I go to the other side.”
His words were so close to my face, they caressed my cheek and released an army of goosebumps. Keeping the weight on my wrist, Andrew brought his left arm above and around me, enveloping me in a partial hug. He shifted behind me, brushing his chest against my back, his?—
Holy Mary, sweet mother of God. I couldn’t breathe as my brain focused only on the spot where my largest body part—my butt—and Andrew’s… most likely large body part, came in contact.
Time slowed, then halted, tipping the earth on its axis. This was so inappropriate. This was wrong on so many levels. And I enjoyed it.
