Still crackling with nervous energy, she jumped to her feet and paced the temple. She craved movement, to touch and be touched, to reaffirm that she was still alive, safe and unhurt. To prove that life was worth living.
She needed Kincaid.
"I see you found the boots."
Charley whipped her head around at the deep, familiar voice, and blinked once. Kincaid looked different today, but she couldn't put a finger on the disparity. Then she got it. He was wearing black jeans and a black work shirt instead of his customary aloha shirt. He looked harder, more dangerous and wickedly sexy.
Her heart jackhammered in her chest as she took a step towards him. "Kincaid. Come with me." She grabbed a fistful of shirt and led him to the side of the temple where a pile of rubble performed the task of hiding them from prying eyes.
"What's this all about?" he asked, his eyes widening in surprised disbelief.
Instead of answering, she stepped forward until her body brushed against his, then threaded her fingers through his hair in unspoken invitation. He was warm and solid--a perfect antidote to the feeling of flat futility that had enveloped her since her near brush with death. A shudder of sexual delight coursed through her veins. "Kiss me, Kincaid. Hold me." Hungrily, she raised her lips, allowing a primitive mating urge sweep her rational qualms away.
He made an inarticulate groan before drawing a finger down her neck, sending licks of flame flickering along her quivering nerves. Catching her chin in his fingers, he slanted a hot, hungry kiss on her lips. His tongue entered her mouth--firm and velvety and demanding. He was fully aroused already, taut and hard.
The cold, twisted knot deep inside her started to thaw. Ragged breathing caught in her throat. Flinging common sense to the wind, she ground her hips against his with a desperation she hadn't known she possessed and reached down to rub his erection through the fabric. Liquid fire smouldered and coiled inside her belly. If she didn't find her release soon, she'd go out of her mind.
"I need you." She gasped between ragged breaths.
"Oh, sweet Jesus. Slow down, Charley. If you do that, there'll be no turning back."
In reply, she captured his lips with her own in a frenzy of need and desire, and gave herself up to the raging inferno that consumed her. Wordlessly, she unbuttoned her blouse and brought his hand to her breast.
He kissed her neck and delved lower. She could swear he muttered: "Mhuirnin."
"More," she panted and arched her back, allowing her head to fall backwards and exposing her throat and breasts to his questing lips. A wave of primal heat tightened her body. Through filmy lace, he captured her nipple between his teeth and tugged. Dimly, she heard her soft, throaty whimpers turn into urgent entreaties. An unbearable pressure built between her thighs and she tugged his shirt loose then raked her fingers down his back, aching to feel the touch of flesh against flesh.
Dazed and throbbing, lost in the searing blaze of sensation, she tugged his shirt out of his jeans. Why did they make the damned fasteners so difficult to undo?
)
The Jaguar Legacy Ancient danger stalks the jungle on velvet paws... Despite baffling panic attacks that devastated her career, journalist Charley Underhill barges in on a Mexican archaeological dig, bent on sniffing out a juicy expose that will restore her reputation and earn enough money for her mother's life-saving treatment. Haunted by past betrayals, Dr. Alistair Kincaid isn't about to let a smart-mouthed reporter leak word of his latest discovery, an ancient Olmec city, to the press. A battle of wills and wits ensues. Strands from a past life intertwine with the present, drawing the couple into a vortex of chilling evil. Torn between redeeming her soul and betraying the man she loves, Charley faces impossible choices.
