CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Valldemossa, Mallorca
December 10
The alarm on the phone trilled, pulling Evan from a short but rejuvenating sleep. Her eyes opened. Instead of the timber ceiling, she pictured the image of Miguel hovering above her. Still amazed by her unhampered trust—her unhampered lust—she replayed their encounter, every quixotic minute.
Something about that magnificent cocktail of danger and darkness had allowed her to free her inner desires. More than that, though, it was the man. Whether he knew it or not, Miguel was a protector, a giver. Deep in his soul, beneath the callous, selfish thug, was a generous, caring man. She wanted that man. Was there any hope for them?
Her thoughts strayed to the dinner party and Miguel and the famous beauty on his lap for half the night. He had said they weren’t involved. So what then? Was he simply feigning interest, or was it the more obvious explanation that he was lying?
She knew there was no future for her with Miguel, but she also knew she wanted to solve this irritating puzzle. Resolved to crack Miguel Ramirez's code somehow, she threw off the covers and got to her day. She had an archaeological discovery to announce.
Evan stepped out of the shower, wrapped herself in a towel, and scampered down the hall back to her room. The golden box sat on her bed, and she eyed it while she crossed the room as if it might float away. She was so distracted she nearly tumbled over her tiny desk. As it was, she kicked the plastic drawstring bag she had set on the floor a week ago—the bag from the hospital. Sitting in the ladderback chair, she lifted it and pulled it open. There, stuck to the swim cap, was the slip of paper with the phone number.
She rubbed her fully-healed calf. The whole incident felt like a distant dream. Nevertheless, she owed this man a phone call. Propelled by her ingrained politeness and sincere gratitude, she grabbed her cell phone from the desk and entered the number.
She didn’t mask her relief when the call went straight to voicemail. “Um, hi.” She crinkled the paper as she held it up. “This is… well, this is the woman you helped earlier this week. The stingray? Anyway, the medics gave me your number, and I wanted to, um, thank you… for helping me. So… thanks… you’re, um, you’re a good man.”
She set the phone back down before she purposely knocked herself in the head with it. You’re a good man? The guy could be a serial killer for all she knew. Whatever. She checked the “thank you” off of her to-do list and recalled the next several items. First and foremost, she needed to show Dr. Emberton her discovery and discuss how to proceed.
It was all she could do to bottle her excitement over presenting the gold box to her mentor. With renewed vigor, Evan moved to the closet to dress.
She pulled on a T-shirt. When her head emerged through the neck hole, her mind again drifted back to the cave. She wasn’t impulsive by nature, but when she realized that brief encounter might be her only chance to experience the touch of a man, she hadn’t hesitated. She recalled Miguel's massive form taking charge of her body. She wanted to reciprocate, to vent eight years’ worth of bottled-up libidinous curiosity. Where was he ticklish? What made him groan or sigh or shudder? What would that thick erection feel like in her hands, her mouth, her body? God. She had gone from frigid to wanton in the course of one night.
She finished dressing and sent up a silent prayer that her panic attacks had ebbed, that her fear of erotic touch was fading. Could she meet a nice man and start dating? Take it to the next level? For some reason, the thought left her cold. She quickly packed away thoughts of Miguel. Hopefully, one day, she could redirect these feelings of attraction and lust. She needed to stop thinking about her dark, complicated, golden-eyed man because she knew she probably wouldn’t see Miguel Ramirez again.
But she wanted to.