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history?”
    “You're
pretty well known.”
    He
shrugged but clearly wasn't happy with her remark. “What would you do if I
decided to let that Lyst guy have a go at it?”
    “I'd
say good luck and good riddance to both of you.” It sounded like a
straight answer but she knew the anger behind her voice gave her away.
    “Something
tells me,” he said, getting to his feet, “you wouldn't be quite that
phlegmatic.”
    She gave
him a disparaging look.
    “I'm
wrong?”
    “You
think I'm underaged because of my shorts. In my opinion, that doesn't give you
a whole lot of clout in the judgment department.”
    Farrell
came around the edge of his desk and approached her, stopping only when he was
a foot away. Carter's throat went dry. He was taller than her by at least a
head and that was saying something, considering she was five nine. As the full
force of him hit her, she had to stop herself from stepping backward.
    Across a
desk, he was insulting and intimidating. Up close, she found him totally
compelling.
    Not
exactly an improvement, she thought, running her tongue over her lips.
    That was
a mistake. Like a predator, he watched the movement, eyes sharpening on her
mouth. The way he was looking at her made her body swell with something she was
determined to think of as anxiety, even if it felt more like hunger. She
thought about turning around and walking out. Running away, actually.
    “What
is it you really want?” he drawled.
    “I
don't understand.” Carter's words were mumbled, coming out fast and tense.
He couldn't possibly be insinuating that she had come for him. Right?
    “Everyone
has a hidden agenda. What else are you after?” His eyes traveled down her
body and then came back to her face.
    She shook
her head, trying to clear it. “I just want to dig.”
    Abruptly,
almost angrily, he broke eye contact with her and returned to the papers on his
desk. His voice was offhand when he addressed her again.
    “I
think you should put your learner's permit to good use and drive yourself back
to wherever you came from. You aren't going to get what you want here, either
in the dirt or from me. However much I wish I could be ... accommodating. I
like women, not schoolgirls.”
    Carter's
mouth dropped open.
    “Are
you suggesting . . .” She couldn't even finish the sentence.
    “Shut
the door behind you,” he commanded before adding, “Please.”
    Her
breath came out in a hiss. “You insufferable, egocentric—”
    “There
you go with the compliments, making me blush,” he murmured, flipping a
page.
    “I
hope you rot in hell.”
    “See
you there,” he said cheerfully.
    On the
way out, Carter slammed the door as hard as she could.
     
    * * *
     
    As the
clap of wood reverberated through the room like a gunshot, Nick winced and put
the documents down. His head was still tender from the migraine, and he
massaged his temples, waiting for the sting to wear off.
    That was
one hell of a beautiful woman, he thought. Those crystal blue eyes so alive
with defiance. That expressive face showing him every emotion she was feeling.
Her mouth, with its full lips and its pink tongue.
    Heat
flared in his body again.
    It was a
damn good thing she'd left. Reeling in his impulses had been more difficult
every time that tongue of hers had come out for a lick. Moves like that had
been performed for him countless times before but, because they were
calculated, he'd never been tantalized. The trouble with the archaeologist was
that he got the sense she didn't know how enticing she was.
    Which
couldn't be possible.
    Beautiful
women were always willing to leverage their assets. He didn't fault them for
it. He'd made a fortune doing the same thing, only his bait was dollar bills,
not the promise of sexual thrills, and his acquisitions were companies, not
marriage licenses. Futile as it inevitably was for the other party, he always
enjoyed bartering with women over what they wanted from him in return for their
time and attention.
    And