Raiders of the Lost Heart(33)

And Ethan raised his brow. “Is that another double entendre?”

“Gross, Ethan,” Corrie said. “And how dare you compare my vagina to a bag,” she said with a cocky tilt of her head.

Ford put his head in his hands. “Oh my God, if we were all actual coworkers, we’d be fired right now. I’m pretty sure this conversation violates at least half a dozen HR policies.”

“Then good thing we’re not. Now, can you please grab me a hair tie? Don’t worry, the vibrator is in the other bag,” Corrie said with a smirk.

Ethan burst out laughing. “I’m glad you haven’t changed, Corrie.”

Little did he know, Barney had already made an appearance. But finally Ford did as he was asked, peeking into the zippered pouch before diving in and emerging with one black rubber band. He handed the tie to Corrie with his arm outstretched, and when she took it, her finger lightly grazed his.

A flicker flashed in his eye. The graze hadn’t been intentional, or at least she didn’t think it was intentional. Was it? Well, she didn’t have time to sort all that out at the moment. She twisted her hair into a messy bun, securing it in place with the rubber band. His gaze traveled from her hair, to her face, and along her now-bare neck before returning to hers. Something had changed between them over the last few hours.

“So what are you thinking?” Ethan asked, stealing her attention from Ford.

What was she thinking? She was thinking about Ford and what it would be like to kiss him.

But . . . Ethan didn’t care about that.

So Corrie turned back to the map instead.

“Okay, we’re here. And the river, it’s here,” she said, running her index finger along the curved line. “According to these topos, we’ve got a few potential options. Here, here, and . . . here,” she said, pointing to each potential location on the map.

“What about over here?” Ethan asked, pointing to the eastern edge of the Lacandon Jungle.

She shook her head. “No, that’s too far. Mendoza only made it just past San Lorenzo.”

“Yeah, and we only have permission to dig within these boundaries,” Ford said, tracing his finger along a heavy black line outlining their limits. Luckily, the sites Corrie selected were still within the borders. “This is the extent of the investor’s land. Anything beyond this line will require new government and landowner approval.”

Ethan and Ford both bent over to take a closer look. “Man . . . this one is really far,” Ethan said, pointing at the location farthest north from them. “If that’s the location, we’re going to have to move the entire camp. There’s no way we can hike to that every day.”

“Well, this one isn’t far. Maybe two miles? Depending on the terrain, it could take, what, forty-five minutes to an hour?” Ford said.

“Right . . . but we won’t know until we check it out, so what are we going to do? Hike there, and then if it’s not the right one, we hike to the next and then the next? You know how Murphy’s Law works. You know it’s going to be the last one. It will take at least a couple of days if we have to hike to all three of these and back,” Ethan said.

“Well—and I don’t mean to be a party pooper—but there’s also a chance that none of these is the right spot. This might not even be the correct river. And as much as I trust this theory, Mendoza might not have come this way at all,” Corrie said.

She hated admitting it, but it was true. And she wouldn’t be doing her job if she didn’t point out the potential that the whole trip could be a bust. Even though she wanted to believe in the Mendoza option, there was a real possibility that Mendoza had been a lying deserter.

She hoped that wasn’t the case. If so, that meant her hypothesis and ancestral connection to Chimalli were false. But if she was going to try to prove her theory was correct, then she might as well do it on someone else’s dime and on someone else’s property. Thankfully, the investor’s property encompassed the vast majority of the area that best fit the Mendoza account. If Chimalli’s resting place lay beyond those borders, though, no amount of digging within them would make any difference.

Ethan and Ford glanced nervously at each other.

“Why don’t we check the closest one and maybe we’ll get lucky?” she said, not sure who exactly she was trying to reassure.

“It’s been a long time since I got lucky,” Ford said.

Corrie and Ethan both raised their eyebrows, dying to make the obvious joke.

Ford simply rolled his eyes and smiled. “Gutter brains.”

“Hey, we’ve been out here a long time,” Ethan joked.

“Yeah, then what’s her excuse?” Ford said, motioning to Corrie.

“Oh, that’s easy. I’ve got a dirty mind.” She smirked, earning a muffled laugh from Ethan.

Oh, she had a dirty mind, all right. She was already thinking of all the ways she could help Ford get lucky. Was there any real truth to that statement, though? He’d already said he wasn’t seeing anyone. Did seeing anyone only refer to dating? Because if that were the case, then Corrie wasn’t seeing anyone, either.

That didn’t mean she was unavailable for random dates and hookups, however. Not that they were a huge part of her life, but she had a solid rotation of guys she could call to . . . quench her thirst. A few of them wanted more. Every now and then one wanted . . . a relationship. Cringe. That was always her cue to cut things off. Corrie’s lifestyle didn’t really lend itself to long-term commitment. Not with moving around for jobs, or the weeks and months on end she spent out of town traveling the world.