Raiders of the Lost Heart(59)

“Okay . . . I’m listening.”

“Well, so we’re not here for the next six months unable to focus, how about we add some skin to the game?”

Corrie waggled her brow. Oh, she was all for more of Ford’s skin, especially the smooth, veiny skin of his cock.

“Dirty girl,” he said. “Anyway, whoever finds the knife and holds it first gets to pick their prize.”

“And what are the parameters for the prize?”

“Whatever you want . . . within reason of course.”

“Do we have to want the same thing?”

He shook his head. “Like I said, whatever you want. I’ll go first . . . if I win, I want that bra and panties you were wearing last night.”

That was it? Hell, Corrie would have given him those even without the wager. Not that she’d let him know that. Particularly not with what it was she wanted out of this deal.

“Dirty boy.” She hooked her fingers through his belt loops and pulled him closer. He needed buttering up for what Corrie was about to drop. She rubbed her hand on the outside of his pants and brought her mouth to his ear, sucking on the lobe. “If I win . . . I want my name listed first on every publication, museum plaque, history book, whatever it may be, as the person who discovered Chimalli.”

He pulled his face back, the strain obvious. Wanting to call her out for being absurd but not wanting her to stop massaging him. “That’s significantly more than what I asked for.”

“I didn’t make the rules, Ford. My proposal is reasonable. You can always ask for something else if you’d like. This,” she said, motioning toward her hand around him, “doesn’t constitute a handshake, so you still have time to change your mind.”

“Fine. If I win . . . I want you to do an interview where you are quoted as thanking me for giving you the opportunity to come on this dig.”

That. Little. Asshole.

She glared at him and took back her hand. “You realize that goes against everything that I believe in, right?”

“You realize it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re a woman, and everything to do with us and this decade-long grudge, right?”

“Yes, it does. We wouldn’t be in this competition if I weren’t a woman.”

“Okay, and you don’t think that the reason you want your name first doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that I’m a man? It goes both ways, Corrie. But again, it’s the fact that you’re this woman. This woman who drives me up the wall and makes me want to rip my hair out at the same time I want to rip her clothes off. Now, are you going to take my wager or what?”

Under any other circumstances, her principles would win out. But Corrie didn’t have any intention of letting Ford win this competition. Meaning the risk of losing the bet was slim to none.

“Fine. But we need some ground rules. Rule number one, you can’t pull that I’m the boss bullshit on me and assign me to some menial task so that I’m never in a position where winning could be possible.”

“Okay. I can agree to that. Rule number two, no sneaking out alone. We come here together or we don’t come at all.”

“Is that an invitation, Dr. Matthews? Or perhaps another double entendre?” She waggled her brow.

“Hey, I’ve never been a fan of one-way orgasms.”

No, he certainly wasn’t. He’d proven that last night.

“Rule number three. When we’re at the site, we focus.”

“Okay. Then we need a revision to rule number one. I won’t pull that bullshit I’m the boss routine, but you have to respect that out here, I am the boss,” he said matter-of-factly. Which, fair. He technically was the boss. “I won’t assign you pointless tasks or purposely do things so you lose, but you have to do what I say. No arguing. No challenging my direction—”

“But what if you’re wrong? I mean, let’s face it, Ford. You were wrong more than once already.”

It was the truth. Had Corrie not challenged his decisions, they’d still be playing in the sandbox at the other site.

“I can acknowledge when I’m wrong, Corrie, and, yes, in those instances, I was wrong. But there’s a difference between being wrong and merely disagreeing. We can both admit that our scuffles are often more a consequence of our differences of opinion rather than one of us being truly incorrect.”

He had a point. Ford really was one of the smartest people she’d ever met. A true and worthy rival as far as competition was concerned. He just didn’t do most things the way Corrie would do them.

“Fine. Out here, you’re the boss.”

“And at camp.”

“And at camp? That means you’re the boss all the time.”

“No, at camp only when we’re with others. Rule number four, when we’re alone, you can be the boss.”

Corrie smirked. Can be? That was already a given.

She reached out her hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Dr. Matthews.”

They shook hands, each of them smiling as if they’d already won. But there could only be one winner, and she’d come out on top.

Chapter

Fourteen

A little competition never hurt anyone.

Unless you considered the fact that Corrie and Ford had been competing their entire careers, and, if he was really being honest with himself, Corrie had definitely come out on the losing end in the past—the Yale fellowship, Ford’s ranking as the top student in their class, and even the cheers for him that had drowned out hers at graduation when he’d crossed the stage seconds before her. But this time was different. Sure, they were competing against each other, but they really wanted the same thing—to find Chimalli. And the odds of success were looking good. If he had to give up first billing on any publications, then fine.