Page 16 of Wicked Intention

“I received an invitation for lunch.” Zo’s lips curved as she thought about Señor Garcia. The elderly man had beenlonely since his wife died, and he had a million stories to tell. She’d still be sitting at his table, listening, if he hadn’t started to doze off.

Tom Finley grunted, but Zo kept her eyes shut. If she didn’t look at him, perhaps he’d leave. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“Maybe I missed you.”

Her pulse surged, and Zo silently cursed her response to this man. “Does anyone fall for your bullshit?”

“What makes you think it was bullshit?” His voice held a note of humor. It was barely detectable, but she picked up on it.

“You can’t miss someone you don’t know.”

“But, I do know you. Zofia Parker, age twenty-six. Your parents are archaeologists who used to share responsibility with an archaeologist from Rio Blanco for a dig site outside of town. You were a preschooler when you started coming down here. That explains why you speak Spanish with a Puerto Jardinese accent,” he added as an aside. “Izel Alvarez, the innkeeper’s wife, was your babysitter until you were old enough to go to the ruins. You have a master’s degree in archaeology, but instead of finishing your PhD, you dropped out two years ago and went to work for the Paladin League, a non-profit that gives grants to archaeologists for excavations.”

Zo straightened and opened her eyes to glare at him. “You’ve been interrogating the townspeople,” she accused, voice low.

Finley gave her an innocent look. “You wouldn’t tell me anything, so I went to secondary sources.”

She ground her teeth and struggled to contain her anger. Zo couldn’t believe anyone who knew her would casually pass on the information, but some of the elderly people in San Isidro were too trusting. “You know facts. You don’t know me.”

“I want to know you.”

Something in his voice suggested an intimacy deeper than sex, and she edged over, putting more space between them. “And I don’t know anything about you,” she continued as if he hadn’t said anything.

“Tom Finley, but you can call me Finn. I’m twenty-nine. I can’t tell you what my parents did. I was abandoned as a toddler, and I bounced around the foster care system too much to refer to any of those families as mine.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel sorry for you?”

He scowled at her. “Lady, I don’t need your pity.”

Zo frowned back at him. “I don’t like being called lady.”

“So far, you’ve said I can’t use sweetheart, lady, or Zo. What am I supposed to call you?”

She wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to call her anything, but it seemed as if they were going to keep bumping into each other. “If those are my three options, go with Zo.” She had to force the words out because hearing him say her name would make her stupid body go into hyper-lust.

Like it’s not there already.

“Zo,” he said quietly as if savoring her name.

Definitely hyper-lust. What was it about him that undermined her resolve? “Foster care. Is that why you joined the Army?” she asked, trying to get her mind off sex.

“There weren’t a lot of options when I finished high school.”

A breeze came through the garden, ruffling his blond hair. It was darker near the roots, but the sun had lightened the last few inches to a near-platinum shade. Finn—damn it, the mercenary—pushed it off his face, and Zo curled her fingers into her palms to keep herself from brushing back the strands he missed. His green eyes sparkled with intelligence and warmed her with his obvious interest. He had a strong jaw with a slight hint of a cleft, his beard unable to conceal that, high cheekbones, and lips she wanted to feel on hers. Again.The only flaw she could see was a bump on the bridge of his nose.

“How’d you break your nose?” she asked, then wanted to kick herself for showing curiosity.

“I fell out of a tree and hit a branch on my way down.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was eight. Why? Did you think someone punched me?” His slight smile sent a shiver coursing through her.

Damn it, she was becoming fascinated by him again.So get up and leave.She should. Except Zo couldn’t make herself stand. She wished she could lie and pretend she stayed to protect the town, but she knew better. It was him and the way she felt when she was with him.

“Youarea mercenary.”

A mask seemed to slip over his face. “You keep bringing that up.”

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