Raiders of the Lost Heart(26)

“You got it. Let me finish these and I’ll bring it over. Where can I find you?”

“We’ll be in my tent,” Ford responded, noticing a slight curl in the corner of Agnes’s mouth. “Working,” he added.

He led the way to the tent, tying up the corners of the window flaps to let in some light. But when he entered, a blast of Corrie slapped him in the face. She was everywhere, or at least her things were: Gear set out to dry. Clothes dangling from every surface. Her things mingled with his own. Tangling her life into his.

“I see you settled in all right,” he said.

“Oh jeez, I’m sorry,” she said, rushing into the tent and swiping up her belongings.

“Looks like your bag vomited. Guess it’s a good thing you aren’t leaving right away.”

“Yeah, well, everything got soaked last night. Sorry. I didn’t think you’d see it like this. Give me a minute.”

Corrie scurried around the room, snatching shirts and shorts and whatever else she’d had crammed in those bags. Seriously, the woman knew how to pack. It looked like she had an entire apartment’s worth of stuff in there. Ford could have helped, but it didn’t feel right to be touching her things.

Besides, he’d learned his lesson last night. Who knew what he’d find today?

“Thanks for not ratting me out to Lance, by the way,” he said.

“Of course.”

He paid her no mind as he made his way over to the desk, setting the plate of sandwiches and some cut-up fruit on the corner then sorting through the stacks of paper covering its surface. They’d need to take another look at the topographic maps to figure out where to search next. The maps had various areas marked. Places he’d already checked. Places he’d ruled out without visiting. But maybe Corrie would notice something he couldn’t.

Upon finding the correct maps, he unfurled the giant rolls of paper across the desk, then pulled out a chair to sit.

And on the seat lay a black lace bra. The delicate fabric didn’t look strong enough to tame Corrie’s breasts. Even now he could tell she was wearing a bra with substantially more support than the thin, practically see-through lace contraption in his hands. It also didn’t appear it would even fully cover her ample breasts. This wasn’t a bra for digging up jungle dirt. He’d been on so many digs that he’d seen lots of things—including all sorts of people in various states of undress—and sports bras, or at least no-frills full-coverage bras, tended to be the standard. No, this was a bra for . . . other activities.

“Uh, here. Don’t forget this,” Ford said, walking over to Corrie shoving clothes in her bag.

She looked at the bra in his hands and surprisingly looked pretty nonchalant about it. Like Ford could have been handing her a pair of socks.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the bra from his hands.

But for some reason, he didn’t stop there.

“Does that even do anything?” he asked. Why? Why had he asked that? The moment the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could suck them back in.

She cocked her head. “Excuse me? Are you judging my intimates?”

“I’m sorry . . . It’s none of my business.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Well, I mean, it doesn’t seem practical for out here, that’s all.”

“And what would you know about it? Ever worn a bra, Ford?”

He furrowed his brow at her. Clearly it was a rhetorical question. She liked those.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “You’re right. It’s not any of your business, but I didn’t exactly know where I’d be going and whether there’d be any access to going-out places. And, frankly, sometimes I like to feel sexy, even if it’s only for myself.”

Ford swallowed. Hard.

“But don’t worry,” she continued. “I assure you, it has just enough support. Would you like me to show you?” she asked, holding the bra in front of her.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Show him? As in right here, right now? Corrie in . . . that? Blood rushed through his body like a fire sweeping over a dry plain.

“My God, Ford. Are you blushing?” she smirked.

Crap. Was he? He quickly reached for his ear, his telltale sign—it was hot, red hot—all while unable to take his eyes off Corrie.

“Working hard, I see,” Agnes said as she walked into the tent with a thermos and a couple of empty mugs, forcing Ford to take a step back.

“Oh, just trying to explain to Dr. Matthews how bras work. He doesn’t think this one has enough support for me,” Corrie said, holding up the bra for Agnes.

Ford already knew he was never going to hear the end of it from either of them. Why he’d felt the need—or the right—to ask in the first place was completely beyond him.

“Mm,” Agnes said, inspecting the bra from afar. “It’s got plenty of support, depending on what you’re using it for. I’ve got one just like it. Want to see?” she asked Ford.

Agnes and Corrie snickered, like the two of them had planned this.

“Ha ha ha,” Ford exaggerated. “You two are hilarious.”

“Your cheeks are a little red. Are you feeling all right?” Agnes said, walking toward him and reaching to touch his forehead.