Stolen Fury Read Free Page B

Her hand pressed against his chest, warming the skin under his cotton dress shirt. When her mouth opened in protest, he leaned close to her ear so only she could hear him. “Do you want to get away from this guy?”
    She paused, as if thinking through her options, but when Comb-over coughed in annoyance, she gave a small nod.
    “Good.” He didn’t hide the smile in his voice. “Then kiss me and make it look good.”
    She hesitated a split second.
    Comb-over coughed again and shuffled forward as if sensing something wasn’t right. “Dr. Maxwell—”
    Hesitation forgotten, she quickly eased closer to Rafe, tipped her head up and rose on her toes to fit her mouth to his.
    Rafe’s senses went into high gear when her lips brushed his. Soft and silky. And gone way too fast.
    She dropped to her feet and eased out of his arms, but her eyes stayed locked on his. “You’re late.”
    A smile curled his mouth. Quick on her feet. He liked that. And damn if those eyes weren’t the most amazingcolor he’d ever seen. Like emeralds polished to a high gleam.
    “I arrived as soon as I could. Are you ready?”
    She sent him a measuring gaze, her eyes sweeping from his tortoiseshell glasses down to the suit and tie, hovering on the soft-sided briefcase at his feet. With raised brow, she looked up, a sign of obvious interest, and his blood pulsed. Oh yeah, the accent had definitely pushed her over the edge.
    Point in your favor, Sullivan.
    “I think I am.”
    She turned back to Comb-over, standing with wide eyes and open mouth. It was all she could do not to smile, and the knowledge tickled a nerve in Rafe’s stomach. “Mr. Menlo, thank you for your generous offer. As you can see, I already have plans. However, if there’s anything regarding the lecture you’d like to discuss in more detail, you’re certainly welcome to contact my research assistant at the university. I’ll be sure to get back to you when I return to San Francisco.”
    He mumbled something Rafe couldn’t hear.
    Her assistant walked across the stage. “I’ll gather the rest of your things and have them sent back to the hotel, Dr. Maxwell.”
    “Thanks, Greta.”
    Dr. Maxwell’s gaze followed Comb-over as he made his way down the stairs and disappeared up the aisle. When he was out of earshot, she looked back at Rafe. “‘Thank you’ doesn’t quite seem good enough.” She held out her hand. “Lisa Maxwell.”
    He brought her delicate fingers to his lips. No rings. No tan lines from missing jewelry. “Helping a damsel in distress is a gentleman’s duty. And the pleasure was all mine, Dr. Maxwell.”
    Her expression said You’re full of shit , but the slightest blush crept across her cheeks as his lips skimmed her fingers. She pulled her hand back when he lowered it. “It’s Lisa.”
    He couldn’t help but smile. This was going to be so much easier than he’d planned. Regardless of profession, women were way too predictable.
    “Rafael Garcia. You looked like you needed a quick out there.”
    She leaned a hip against the table. “Some men just don’t know how to take a hint.”
    She definitely wasn’t sending him the same one. Her gaze traveled the length of his body again before landing on his eyes, and from the interest flaring in those shining emeralds, she obviously liked what she saw. “Did you attend the lecture, Mr. Garcia?”
    “Rafe. Yes, I did. I found it quite interesting. I’m a history professor at the University of Barcelona, and I have a personal interest in Ancient Greece. Your grasp of the Greek influence on Persia was right on.”
    She grinned and eased away from the table, lifting her purse and slipping the strap over her shoulder. “Well, now. That’s a relief. I was worried for a moment.”
    He didn’t miss the sarcasm. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to imply you’re green.”
    She ran fingers through her short red hair. “I’m used to it. An American woman lecturing about archaeology in Europe is often