Treasure Hunters by Sylvia Day Page B

was Rick Bronson who did that. The prospect of spending more time with him was far more exciting than her studies or the possibility of treasure. In her line of work, most of the men she ran across were bookish and slight of build. She’d never met any man as blatantly primitive as the mercenary in her office. He was, quite simply, an erotic e- book hero come to life.
    “I’m the keynote speaker at the Retro-bration kickoff on Rashier 6,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’s a month from now. So that’s all the time you’re getting. You do what I say, when I say and we just might get somewhere in that limited amount of time.”
    “I certainly hope we get somewhere.”
    The sudden heat of his gaze startled her into gaping. Was that sexual innuendo? She gave herself a mental kick in the ass. Rick Bronson couldn’t be interested in her.
    She was short and kind of plump, with dark brown hair and plain brown eyes. It was never physical lust that inspired her sexual encounters. No, they were more like “
Hey, I’m tired of studying this. Wanna fuck?
” kinds of encounters. Like an afterthought or just a break from the monotony. Although they were sometimes more boring than painstaking cataloguing.
    She wished she were the kind of woman men lusted after. What she wouldn’t give to have a full-on alpha male tackle her and fuck her senseless. But that sort of thing only happened in erotic e-books and lamentably, she had only a couple dozen of those to satisfy her.
    “Shall we get started then?” he asked, breaking into her musings. “Yeah, let me gather up a few things and I’ll meet you on your ship.” He nodded. “Need my help with anything?”
    A screaming orgasm would be nice.
    “Uh, no,” she said, blushing at her own carnal thoughts. “I can manage.”
    Reminder to self: Pack sex toys.
    It was going to be a long month.

    Rick stepped out of Samantha Tremain’s book-lined office and adjusted the fit of his pants. Who knew he had a liking for semi-timid librarians? He certainly hadn’t. Not until he’d been ignored by a pretty little brunette one.
    Lost in her book, Samantha had sat there chewing on her nail and muttering to herself. He’d almost opened his mouth to let her know she wasn’t alone, but she’d been so damn adorable with her nose all wrinkled up and her soft brown eyes capped with a frown of concentration. Reluctant to disturb her, he’d just watched her silently until she caught sight of him lounging by the door. Then she’d turned that studious gaze on him, raking him from head to toe, stopping for a long moment at his cock. He knew sexual appreciation when he saw it and surprisingly, he’d been turned on by her almost scientific perusal. Her subsequent dazed inability to speak had been very flattering.
    Before approaching her, Rick had done his research into her areas of specialty. He’d seen her picture, read her theories and perused database photos of her collections. None of that was able to convey the woman as she was in the flesh. There was just something about her, an indefinable quality, almost as if she were starving for something. Knowing women like he did, Rick would say she was hungry for a good fucking. He doubted she’d ever been ridden properly.
    Most men were sadly ignorant about women like Samantha, thinking they liked a gentle hand. Perhaps most of them did. But there were clues that told him Sam wasn’t one of them.
    The hair for one.
    By the gods, those skeins of chocolate silk had fallen down from that tight bun and he’d grown bone hard in an instant. She wore it up because it got in the way, but she didn’t cut it. Why? He’d bet it was because it made her feel sexy. He could easily see her naked, that cascade of dark hair tumbling down her back.
    And then there was the obvious giveaway—her expertise in ancient erotic romance. She was considered one of the foremost authorities in the galaxy on the subject. He wondered if any man had