Assassin's Honor by Monica Burns Page B

had made her heart flip-flop.
                At five-foot-eight, Emma was used to being close to eye level with most of the men she came into contact with, but the stranger had easily topped six feet, forcing her to look up at him whenever he got too close. Too close? She could have absorbed him into her body if he'd been any closer. She could still feel his hard body against hers. And he had a great body. Solid and muscular, he obviously worked out regularly.
                Her eyes flew open, and she shook her head in a ridiculous effort to clear her thoughts. Okay so the guy turned her on. There weren't many men she found herself attracted to. Of course, most men she worked with were older. More along the lines of Ewan's age. There weren't too many History Channel babes like Josh Bernstein running around Egypt or the hallways of the Oriental Institute.
                For that matter, there weren't too many men her age period out in the desert. At least not any that interested her. But the stranger had piqued her interest. Something that didn't make her happy at all. She hated to admit it, but his kiss had been the hottest thing she'd tasted in a long time. The devil in her shrugged with defiance. Why shouldn't she enjoy the feel of his mouth against hers? There was nothing wrong with a harmless kiss.
                Who was she kidding? Harmless? That had to be the understatement of the year. There hadn't been a damn thing harmless about that kiss. She'd been wet with heat the moment his tongue had teased hers. And she couldn't remember the last time she'd kissed a man and wanted more. A whole lot more. No, that kiss hadn't been even remotely safe or sedate. It had held a promise of dangerous passion and pleasure.
                God, she needed another belt of whiskey. In less than three seconds, she was filling her glass with another generous portion of liquor. Not bothering to sip the drink, she simply tossed it back in one gulp. Fire streamed down her throat, and she coughed violently. Damn, she needed to remember this stuff was a hell of a lot stronger than the Stella beer she always drank at the dig.
                When her coughing spasm ended, she realized nothing had changed. The whiskey was doing little to drown out the memory of being in the stranger's arms or how good she'd felt. No, better than good. She wouldn't have protested one bit if he'd pushed his advantage. Hell, she'd as much as said she wouldn't object. Caressing him with the intimacy of a lover had been an open invitation if ever she'd given one. Her stomach lurched at the memory.
                His erection had been hard and full against her palm. The sudden image of him sliding into her tugged a small groan from her throat. She might be going crazy, but she couldn't think of a more pleasurable way to go insane. A rush of liquid heat dampened her panties. How could somebody she didn't know, someone who'd broken into her home and held her against her will, make her feel so hot and needy? And he'd been right. She had kissed him willingly. It didn't help matters that she wanted a repeat of that kiss.
                She tried to block out everything she remembered, but failed. Even his scent still filled her senses. The strength of it almost made her think he'd returned. But with her eyes wide open, she knew better. He'd smelled clean and woodsy--as if he spent a lot of time outdoors. But it had been more than that. The raw earthiness of his scent had aroused a primal response in her. A dangerous sensation that could easily burn her. But then everything about him screamed danger.
                Desperate to change the direction of her thoughts, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper. Here was something to occupy her for quite some time. She eyed the hieroglyphs on the sheet with bittersweet emotion. She missed her parents, but finding the