He leaned closer and framed her face in his palms. His hazel eyes bored into hers. “Angélica, you may not be able to read glyphs as well as your mom, but you are smart and wily in ways she wasn’t. Now stop focusing on what she could do that you can’t and start thinking outside of the box.”
“But how can I …” she started only to have his kiss shut her up.
His lips were hot and firm and just the diversion from herfrustrations that she needed. She closed her eyes and let herself fall head over heels into the kiss, slipping her hands inside his open shirt, sliding her fingers down his damp chest.
When she teased his tongue with hers, he groaned and pulled back. “Damn it, woman. That was supposed to be one of those dominating romantic moves where I quash your ‘buts’ by kissing you senseless.”
“Nobody uses the word ‘quash’ in the midst of kissing, Parker. Now come back here.” She grabbed him by the shirt collar and yanked him closer.
This time, she dominated, coaxing his lips open, playfully nipping and tugging with her teeth. Her tongue explored and flirted while her fingers dipped lower, sliding around his sides. Her body was hungry for a refresh on how well they fit together. Maybe she just needed a good …
He pulled back again, dammit.
“You aren’t supposed to kiss me like that when I’m trying to be the hero in the story,” he whispered between quickened breaths.
“I can’t help it. You smell fresh and taste minty.”
“I just showered and brushed my teeth.”
“And you came in here practically naked and started flirting with me out of the gate.”
“I’m not practically naked. Just nearly, and I always flirt with you. You’re incredibly sexy when you blush.”
“Yeah, well you’re sexy, period, especially when you bite me in the midst of—”
He held up his hand for her to stop. “We are having a discussion about work, remember, Dr. García?”
“Hey, you kissed me first, Romeo.”
“Because you were a damsel in distress at the time.”
“And what am I now?”
He sat back and looked her up and down. “An overheated archaeologist who needs to quit undressing me with her eyes, or we’re probably going to get busted for enjoying a little slap and tickle in the communications tent.”
She smiled, fanning herself as she pictured the scene. He was right about the overheated part. “Can I do the slapping?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
His chin jutted. “If you’ll answer my original question first.”
“I can’t remember your question.” When he narrowed his eyes in disbelief, she added, “That’s the truth. You discombobulated me with your kissing and your …” She circled her hand in front of him. “Hunky aura. It’s probably part of your Good Demon charisma. I’m under yourXtabayspell, only you’re not exactly a femme fatale.”
“Well, I could shave my legs and chest for you, but it would get itchy when the hair grows back.” He pointed at the computer screen. “Now, why would none of these glyphs on the conch shell be recognizable? And don’t waste your breath on the guarded answers that you would give your contemporaries, because I’m not going to judge you on some scholarly schmolarly basis. This is just between you and your strong, manly hero.”
She laughed. “Okay, my hairy hero, but I’m going to need more of those minty kisses later.”
“Will do.” He gave her a wink. “Along with tickling.”
She focused on the screen. “Maybe these are just combinations of glyphs that I haven’t seen before, which is possible. I haven’t memorized all 800-plus glyphs. Plus, if the scribe who created them had an artistic flair, they might not look the same as others.”
“Have you experienced that before?”
She nodded. “It’s like comparing the cursive and print versions of a word, but usually there is enough similarity to be able to interpret the glyph.”
“Okay, so this writing might be beyond your current knowledge base. Can you send it to INAH to check out? Maybe run it by someone who studies the glyphs as their main focus?”
