Relentless Read Free Page B

Connor Thorne in a dark alley.
    “Assuming that’s fine…” he prompted after a long moment, and she shook her thoughts back into the present. Her predicament, not whatever shadows her own psyche wanted to paint around him.
    “Several months ago my father put together a team of the best archaeology students and interns he could find.” Selling everything of any value to finance the dig. Nobody had wanted to fund him. He’d jumped ahead of himself one too many times, leaving himself without any allies other than the Earl of Kilgetty and herself.
    Isis didn’t have any money to give him, and Thorne’s father, the Earl, had cut off funds when he realized his patronage was going into a deep, dark hole. The money had been like pouring millions of gallons of water onto the Egyptian desert.
    Isis watched Thorne’s eyes to see if he was truly listening. The tears had worked, but she could tell he wasn’t a man who would fall for that more than once. The waterworks hadn’t been hard to pull off. She was at the end of her emotional rope, and a good, cleansing cry would be terrific right now. Some women thought crying was a sign of weakness, but Isis considered it a release valve for pent-up emotional pressure.
    She’d save that indulgence for when she left his office.
    Thorne leaned slightly to the side, resting an elbow on the arm of his chair. The light behind him cut a dark shadow over one slashing cheekbone, and she suddenly wanted desperately to get a shot of him backlit by the runnels of rain hitting the window, the Seattle skyline a hazy backdrop. The whole scene was soft and gray and rather melancholy.
    But not him. Thorne was right in the middle, vibrant and larger-than-life.
    His green eyes boring a hole through her façade.
    There was no law to say—even in the middle of her crisis—that she couldn’t enjoy the view. And the fact that the attraction didn’t appear to be reciprocated didn’t lessen her enjoyment looking at him. That just made it easier.
    Everything she’d owned now belonged to Lodestone International; the price of Thorne’s help. But they were just things . And things were replaceable.
    The only item of value she hadn’t liquidated was her three-year-old Canon 5d Mark II camera, which she was never without.
    So it was a good thing looking was free. Not that she could afford even that after she’d paid the hefty retainer and tried to budget the daily expenses of keeping her father in a comfortable facility. Comfortable meant hellishly expensive. He had no insurance. Zak and Acadia weren’t aware of her financial difficulties, and Isis preferred to keep it that way. Yes, as a last resort she could ask for help. But for now, she still had options. She’d known three months ago that the money—his, and hers—would run out.
    She’d debated doing the sure thing and keeping him there for another three months. Or opting to take a wild, crazy gamble and use some of her carefully hoarded funds to pay Lodestone to find her father’s treasure. There was only a month left before she had to find other accommodations for him. Twenty-eight days, to be precise.
    Connor Thorne was her Holy Grail and Hail Mary.
    And if she happened to enjoy looking at him, that just made things easier.
    His English accent, coupled with the deep bass of his voice, made her stomach feel light and fluttery, and made her heartbeat speed up pleasantly. He might have the personality of a kumquat, but he was incredibly sexy to look at. Her artist’s eye wanted to photograph him against a rough wall, with a spear in his hand. In nothing more than a drape of a loincloth. The thought tempted her to smile. She had to settle for him fully clothed in his office. Ah. Imagination was a wonderful thing, and best of all, free.
    For some perverse reason she enjoyed his pithy sarcastic responses. While she talked he kept his gaze on her face. She liked that. He might think she was full of BS, but he paid her the courtesy of looking at