Shadows and Ruins Read online

  he'd had difficulty forgetting how she'd looked smudged with dirt from the dig. He

  wondered if she knew how ripe her lips appeared or how fuckable she was in those

  faded jeans. He'd had a fantasy or two already that involved stripping those jeans down

  her long legs and kissing each inch as the fabric left her limbs bare. Every time he'd seen

  that kick-ass-and-take-names attitude in her eyes, it made him want her more.

  He'd be damned if he could say what it was about her that got to him. He knew it

  couldn't just be her beauty. Sure, he liked looking at a pretty woman as much as the

  next guy, but seeing her, listening to her voice made his libido slam into overdrive. She

  intrigued him. Angered him. Heat spread through his stomach and his cock hardened

  as he remembered last night's kiss once again. He gritted his teeth and groaned.

  Charlie looked up from her bowl of food.

  "What are you looking at?" he asked then settled himself at the table with his

  newspaper and cereal. He tried to read and forget about Emma.

  It didn't work.

  With vivid recall he thought about last night…how some of her hair had come loose

  from her braid and lay along her cheeks. Jealous of how close those fine hairs were to

  her skin, he'd ached to caress her. When she'd shivered against him, he'd realized with

  a shock that she was afraid of him. Her fear had slammed him back to earth. All he'd

  wanted to do was reassure her. Treat her gently.

  And fuck her brains out.

  He gripped his orange juice glass tightly. Her cheeks flooded with color when she

  was angry. An image of her aroused with something more than animosity sent a swift

  spike of desire through him. He took a drink but didn't taste the tart orange and his

  cereal became soggy as he stared at the wall.

  He hadn't been this hungry for a woman in a long time. Not just any woman.

  Emma.

  Some women in Gambit Creek had tried more than once to get him into bed, but a

  quick fuck with any warm, willing woman didn't interest him. As a very young man

  he'd indulged in meaningless sex a few times, and he'd managed to keep his feelings

  distanced. But that seemed like centuries ago. Time, responsibilities and disinterest had

  kept him celibate for a long time. Since he'd inherited his father's property four years

  ago, everything had changed. And yet everything remained the same.

  The phone rang, startling him out of his ruminations. He got up from the table,

  grabbed the cordless phone on the kitchen counter and barked into the receiver.

  "Yeah?"

  "Now is that any way to greet your old friend?" a sultry female voice asked over

  the line.

  Recognition made him smile broadly. "Dorky. How the hell are you?"

  "According to my last psych evaluation, wonderful."

  He snorted. "You don't have psych evaluations, do you?"

  "Of course."

  He smirked, even though he knew she couldn't see him. "What did they say about

  you?"

  "Shane, didn't your mother ever tell you your face would freeze that way?"

  His heart almost stopped. He'd forgotten how good she was at guessing what

  someone was doing, even if it was over a blind telephone line. "Jesus, Dorky. Don't do

  that. It scares the shit out of me. Now what did your psych eval say?"

  "That I'm only human."

  "That's comforting. Last I heard you could leap tall buildings with a single bound."

  "I think you have me confused with a superhero."

  "Like I said, your reputation speaks for itself. I'll bet you've broken several hearts

  lately."

  She sighed. "Surely, you jest. Remember what I do for a living."

  He did remember, and with that thought came the realization Dorcas Shannigan

  wouldn't have called him if something major wasn't up. When he'd left the agency four

  years ago, he'd made it damned clear to everyone that he wanted no contact with

  anyone remotely associated with the international agency. At the same time, he realized

  his demand held little hope of working. After all, once a member of that elite agency, a

  person never officially retired.

  Still, he hesitated to ask why she called, wanting the illusion of friendly, non-

  business conversation a bit longer. "They still got you holed up in that godforsaken

  basement?"

  Her soft laugh filled him with a low-grade arousal he couldn't deny. Her lilting,

  teasing voice always purred over his senses. He suspected every man at the agency

  loved the silky sound of her voice and responded accordingly, wondering whether her

  voice matched her looks and chafing at the realization they'd never find out.

  "Of course I'm still in the basement. I wouldn't have it any other way. Now, enough

  about me. I didn't call to discuss my love life. This is agency business."

  "Shit."

  "Come on, Shane, you don't even know what I'm going to say."

  Old anger flared, and the sudden eruption of emotions grated over his nerves like

  sandpaper. Damn it. He should have control over these feelings. "You suddenly call me

  after four years? I can guess what you're going to say. The answer is no."

  "We need your help."

  "You know why I left the agency and why I can't come back."

  "That was your decision, Shane. The agency didn't force you out."

  His fingers tightened on the phone, and he started to pace the kitchen. Charlie lay

  down on the floor and watched him with almost curious, humanlike assessment. "Yeah,

  well, they made it real easy to leave, didn't they?"

  So fucking easy that walking out that door four years ago had been like walking on

  a sheet of ice.

  "All right. Let's just cut to the chase then." She sighed. "There's an archaeologist

  working on your ranch, right?"

  Of course she'd know. The fucking agency knew everything, saw everything. It was

  Big Brother. "Yeah. What about her?"

  "It's a bad idea to have her working on that site. You know it and the agency knows

  it."

  He didn't want to admit that he couldn't handle one curious archaeologist. "I know.

  When my uncle started talking about having an archaeologist work near Sadie Cutley's

  Ridge, I tried to persuade him not to pursue it. But since he doesn't know the whole

  truth about the ridge area, then I couldn't change his mind. And you know I couldn't

  tell him the truth."

  "Of course not. Now that the archaeologist is working there, what are you going to

  do about it?"

  "I'll get rid of her."

  "That easy?"

  "That easy." He sagged into his chair and stared at the soggy cereal.

  "There's only one thing wrong with that scenario."

  "What?" he asked warily.

  "We don't want you to get rid of her. At least not right away."

  His brain raced. "Wait a minute. You think she and that Wilder character that runs

  the archaeological business are here for more than regular archaeology work?"

  "It's possible. You won't know unless you get close to her."

  He laughed, but there was no humor in it. Get close to Emma? He didn't know if it

  sounded like the greatest idea he'd ever heard or the stupidest. "Define close."

  "We're not asking you to…you know…get that close. Just find out what she's really

  up to and make sure it isn't anything illegal and dangerous."

  "I already
used one of my sources to check out Wilder and Emma. There's no

  indication they're into illegal activities. I want them off the property for other reasons."

  "I know. You like your solitude."

  "It isn't just that and you know it. It's dangerous land."

  "Obviously."

  Silence permeated the line for a few seconds. He switched gears. "Who asked you

  to call, Dorky?"

  "It came right down from the very top. Once we found out about the archaeologist,

  the powers that be directed me to warn you."

  He possessed a sneaking suspicion he'd never know how they'd discovered that

  Emma had invaded the site. Maybe another agent casing his ranch? That didn't make

  sense. After four years there was no reason for the international agency to give a shit.

  Think again. The SIA would monitor this area forever. It was simply too dangerous

  not to watch it.

  "Warn me?" He stirred the cereal then pushed the bowl back with a twinge of

  disgust. "What did they think I'd do? Welcome the archaeologist with open arms?"

  Another slow sigh came over the line. "No. But you worked here long enough to

  know how and why things work. Don't you dare play dumb with me, Shane."

  No, he couldn't. He knew Dorky didn't suffer fools. He stared at the wall, not really

  seeing anything. Sarcasm refused to leave his voice. "Are they putting me back on the

  payroll?"

  "Yes."

  "You're shittin' me?"

  "Would I ever? You knew when you signed on for the agency that it's like the army.

  Once a soldier always a soldier. Until the site is safe from intrusion, you're hired for the

  duration."

  He expected a bigger reaction, maybe a sharp pain in his head or in his gut like he

  always did when the past rose up on its ugly hind legs. Instead, he felt unequivocally

  numb. "Well, fuck me."

  Dorky laughed. "You always were a colorful conversationalist."

  He closed his eyes. His forearm muscles tightened as he clenched the phone. "Oh,

  believe me, when I hang up I'll think of even more colorful things to say."

  "Why wait until we finish the conversation? Get it off your chest."

  For a second he wanted to stomp his foot and scream like a toddler, railing against

  the injustice of something he'd always known could happen at any time. "Do they want

  me to come in and pick up some new Secret Squirrel agent shit?"

  She laughed again, a honeyed, pleasant sound that soothed some of his ire. "Believe

  it or not, no. You know that I-Doc communicator we sent you not long ago?"

  He remembered. "Yeah. It's sitting in my underwear drawer."

  "Lovely," she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. "Anyway, that's probably all you

  need. Do you know how to operate it?"

  He lied. "Yes."

  "Good. But it's too bad you aren't required to come into headquarters. We've got

  some very interesting equipment you haven't seen."

  "You called me over an unsecured line. That's not like the agency."

  "My line is secure and your line is clear and isn't being monitored." Dorky's voice

  vibrated with soothing tones. "Take heart, Shane. To sweeten the deal, the agency is

  offering you a sizeable chunk of extra incentive pay."

  When she quoted a jaw-dropping amount he never expected, he whistled and

  opened his eyes. "Holy shit."

  "I take it you can think of some things around the ranch that could use repair?"

  "I'll say."

  "Good."

  No, it wasn't that great having the SIA around his neck like a noose again. But

  never let it be said he would bitch if hung with a new rope. He knew when he had it

  good, and in the overall scheme of things he couldn't complain that much. Arguing

  with the agency was fruitless, a place he'd come to think of in big, capital letters. His

  civilian life would go by the wayside for however long it took to secure the site. He

  explained to Dorky that Emma already worked far too close to the mine.

  "Yes, but she isn't working on the area that counts, is she?" Dorky asked. "She

  won't find anything significant there."

  "I hope not."

  "Just make sure she doesn't. You know what could happen if she does."

  "Yeah." The single word sounded resigned.

  "I have to go, Shane. You take care, and you know to call me if you have any

  questions or problems."

  "Same number?"

  "You have it memorized."

  "Damned if I still don't."

  "See, I knew you wouldn't forget me."

  He grunted. "No man in his right mind would want to forget you. Hey, why didn't

  Mac Tudor or Ben Darrock give me a call about all this instead of you?"

  She gave him that sensuous, rolling laugh. "They knew I could soften you up."

  "Shit."

  She laughed again. "Take care, Shane."

  The line disconnected.

  He looked down at Charlie and saw she'd fallen asleep. "Glad I could entertain

  you."

  Loneliness speared him with sharp needles. Part of him reared up and scolded with

  sharp recrimination because he hadn't told Dorky that the agency could take their work

  and stick it so far up their asses it would come out their throats.

  A dull throb pounded in his right temple and he reached up to rub his forehead.

  Thinking about his past always gave him a headache. It didn't matter that here, at the

  ranch, he'd found the life he wanted and needed. He had peace and quiet here, away

  from the stress of what happened at the agency all those years ago. Although he was

  happier here than he'd been anywhere in his travels, the specter of his father's forceful

  personality and shady dealings loomed like a thundercloud over Shane's head.

  When Shane had moved back to the ranch, he knew the bad memories would haunt

  him. Yet he thought he'd escaped his past when his father died. When he quit the

  agency to take over the ranch, an enormous relief had settled over him. No more

  traveling. No more deception. No living-out-of-the-suitcase lifestyle. Suspicion he

  understood, because he owned gallons of skepticism. Emma's pretty face came to his

  mind. An appealing face and delectable curves wouldn't distract him from the job.

  Yeah, he needed to keep his libido in check with Emma Lynn Baker until this crap

  blew over.

  He glanced out the kitchen windows as sun speared through in intense shards,

  spilling over the table and warming the room. His stomach growled in protest and he

  started in on his cereal, ignoring the sogginess.

  He finished his breakfast and put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. He looked

  down at his faithful companion to see the dog had awakened and decided to nibble on

  her breakfast again.

  "What do you think, Charlie? Am I crazy?"

  The Lab crunched her food contentedly.

  He had to be a lunatic. One hundred percent certifiable.

  Not only did Emma hate his guts for giving her so much trouble, her kiss would

  haunt him to the end of his days. But it was worth the risk to taste her. Not a sweet,

  gentle peck on the lips either.

  A hot, long, deep kiss.

  Yep. If she didn't dislike him enough already she would have after that.

  After he attended to some business, he would venture to the site and watch her

  work. He wondered if Wilder would be there. She'd said he'd be on site Thursday.

  While he didn't
entirely trust Emma, his misgivings about Wilder felt much stronger.

  An image of her rose-tinted lips haunted him while he took his shower and later

  when he shaved. He closed his eyes a couple of times and imagined parting her lips

  with his own and feeling the texture of her hot tongue. He practically cut his damn neck

  thinking about it.

  He'd just buttoned his jeans when the phone rang. He glanced at the clock and

  wondered who would be calling him at that hour. He grabbed the phone next to his

  bed.

  "Shane?"

  His brow furrowed at his mother's weak voice. Worry rippled through him.

  "Mom?"

  "It's so good to hear your voice, darling."

  That his mother had called twice in one week was unusual and a little alarming.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing's wrong. I just…I just worry about you."

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. "I'm fine."

  His mother was a perpetual worrier. Especially when it came to him. She hadn't

  been concerned all those years ago when his dad had gone into his cold, blinding rages,

  or when she'd discovered who her husband really was. All those years wasted while she

  endured and stayed with his father until she'd found the guts to leave.

  Part of Shane hated that she hadn't left Colorado sooner and taken him with her. If

  she had, maybe he wouldn't be paying right now for the sins of the father. And the way

  it looked now, he would be paying until he rotted.

  "I wanted to call and see if next month would be a good time to visit," she said

  suddenly.

  Surprise lanced through him. She hadn't visited in the four years since Shane had

  taken over the ranch. What could have changed her mind now?

  "Next month?"

  "I know you're busy, but we haven't seen each other in so long. And you and

  Gregory have never gotten a chance to know each other."

  True, Shane had spent too much time gallivanting in exotic foreign countries

  catching bad guys, and hadn't met his mother's husband Gregory Ivy more than twice

  in the twelve years since she'd remarried.

  Myriad emotions winged through him. Part of him wanted to reestablish a solid

  relationship with his mother. Time and distance had cooled their ties, removed some of

  the bond they'd shared as mother and son. In direct contrast to her life with Shane's