In Too Deep by Sherryl Woods

extraordinary patience for him to capitulate. With a sigh of resignation, he did, cursing Scottie for having taught her so well.
    â€œWe’ll start for the archaeological site in the morning,” he said at last.
    She nodded, but didn’t gloat. “Thank you.”
    He shrugged. “For what? You’re the boss.”
    A shadow passed across her blue eyes and her lips tightened, but again she said nothing.
    Not fully understanding why he felt the need, he did a little intentional goading of his own. “With any luck Maria Herrera will be there, too.” He injected a warm note of enthusiasm in his voice. It was not entirely feigned. Maria was fascinating. “She often goes to visit and work as a volunteer.”
    â€œWho is she?”
    â€œI suppose you’d describe her as an environmentalist, a bit of a colorful maverick, really. She’s well known in Mexico City. She’s been working for the preservation of the rain forest. She’s also a staunch advocate for the Lacandones and maybe something of an archaeologist as well. She knows more about the Mayans than anyone I’ve ever met, including the archaeologists working this site. She’s an incredible woman.”
    Cara regarded him shrewdly. “Do you know her well?”
    â€œWell enough.” The equivocation was intentional. He had to admit he enjoyed the little gleam of curiosity it aroused in Cara’s eyes, the slightly jealous undertone in her voice.
    â€œWhere does she live? In Palenque?”
    â€œYes.” He twisted the knife. “You’d like the house, I think. It has a beautiful courtyard, filled with flowers. It’s so peaceful there in the evening, when the air is soft and the sunlight is fading. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen so many hummingbirds. It’s—”
    Cara interrupted him. “Tell me about the others who will be there.”
    He restrained the desire to grin, yawning widely instead. “It’s late. Don’t you think we should be getting some sleep, if we’re going to set out at the crack of dawn?”
    â€œIt’s barely nine. I don’t need that much sleep. Do you?”
    This time their eyes met and awareness sizzled between them. One game ended and another began. He swallowed hard and wondered if he could get by on no sleep at all. The tantalizing images that suddenly flashed through his mind assured him of a restless night.
    â€œNo,” he said, but his voice was choked. Blast the woman! Never before had he had quite so much trouble concentrating. Nor had any woman seemed more appealing by far than work. Even this little jaunt he’d agreed to make was absolute foolishness, something he would never have done for anyone who didn’t have big blue eyes, a winning smile and an irritating way of setting his blood on fire when he least expected it.
    â€œFine,” she was saying to him with cheerful innocence. “If you don’t have to go to bed now, you might as well tell me about the others. I like to know the people I’m dealing with.”
    â€œActually, I don’t know them all that well myself. I met with one of them a couple of times in Palenque and then visited the site once. Rafael Riva is the archaeologist in charge. He’s articulate, intelligent and dedicated. The Mayan culture is something of an obsession for him. I think the thought of seeing ruins lost forever makes him physically sick. He mounts an effective argument against the dam, but he’s not nearly as hostile as some of the others. At least not openly,” he amended, wondering how far Rafael would actually go to save the ruins.
    â€œDoes he have a big team there?”
    â€œNo. He has an assistant, a young man named Jorge Melendez. I got the feeling he’s not all that experienced, but he also seems eager and dedicated. There are a few college students, even a couple of Americans from one of those vacation