style="font-size:15px;"> “Jerry has a gift for exaggeration.”
The look he gave her could have melted glass. “I don’t think so. I’m certainly finding it unforgettable.”
Cora resisted the urge to loosen the collar of her blouse. A sliver of perspiration trickled down her spine. “Only because I stuck you in a room with a group of hungry college women.”
“You think so?”
“Don’t kid yourself. I’m fully aware that you are used to having the world at your feet. The way I see it, this will be an educational experience for you.”
“You know how much I want to find the Isabela.”
“It’s good to want things. Builds character.”
That damnable smile played at the corner of his mouth again. “I’m very used to getting my own way.”
“I can see that.”
“And I want this. A lot.”
“Disappointment is the key to personal growth.”
Something dangerously seductive flared in his gaze—something that reminded her why women reportedly went wild over him. With his looks and his charisma, it was no wonder he had a pirate’s reputation. He had a way of looking at a woman that virtually smoldered. “You know—” his expression turned devilish “—I’ve always admired women with quick tongues.”
Cora rolled her eyes. “Does that line usually work for you?”
“Sometimes.”
“Well, surprise, Dr. Adriano. This time you’ve met your match.”
“You mean you’re not overwhelmed by my persona?”
Was he mocking her? His expression was so serious she couldn’t tell. “I will admit that I find the eye patch a bit over the top.”
“It’s medically necessary,” he said. “I lost my eye in a fistfight when I was sixteen.”
“I’m not questioning that,” she hastened to explain. “I simply think that the, er, look—” she indicated his long hair, the gold hoop in his ear and the patch with a wave of her hand “—is a bit melodramatic.”
He laughed, showing a straight line of white teeth. “I like you,” he said. “I was hoping I would.”
Cora gritted her teeth. “Dr. Adriano—”
“No, really. I feel better about this already.”
“I can’t tell you how that comforts me,” she drawled.
He crossed his long legs so that his ankle rested on his thigh. “A worthy opponent makes any battle more satisfying.”
Cora frowned. “Am I supposed to call you a scurvy dog now or something? I left my pirate/English dictionary in my other briefcase.”
His lips twitched. “A sharp-tongued woman.”
“And an odious egomaniac. What a delightful way to spend an afternoon.”
“You know,” he said, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was mocking her, “you might make a good pirate. You’ve got the wits for it.”
“What a relief,” Cora said, and took a sip of her soda.
“But I’m not sure you have the guts.”
“Excuse me?”
“Hmm.” He traced the edge of his patch with a long tanned finger. “’Tis not enough,” he said, dropping his voice to a gravelly rumble that she could easily picture coming from Blackbeard himself, “just to wear a patch over yer eye, lassie.” He leaned closer. “Ye have tae pick yer teeth with the ribs of a Spanish captain ye knocked off yerself.”
Cora stared at him wide-eyed. “I beg your pardon.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Captain Pigleg Torstenson wrote that to his grand-daughter in 1783.”
“How charming.”
His smile was lazy and seductive. “I like to think he was making a general statement about life. It’s not enough to simply look the part. You have to have the stomach for it, as well.”
He was mocking her, she realized. He thought she was an intellectual, unadventurous, narrow-minded snob and she’d turned down his request because she lacked vision and foresight. She saw the condemnation and condescension clearly written in his smug expression. “While this little philosophical dissertation is quite charming, Dr. Adriano, I think you should know that I’ve never liked arrogant men—especially not self-impressed scientists whose only goal is career advancement and public recognition.”
That effectively knocked the smile off his lips, but instead of the angry retort she’d expected, she saw his eyebrows lift with marked curiosity. “I’m not arrogant, Professor. I’m simply flagrantly dedicated to my research and cognizant of my considerable talent.”
Obnoxious, she told herself. Except that it happened to be true. “Aren’t you the man who said you were the most impressive voice in ocean research today?”
His mouth twitched again. Why in hell, she wondered, couldn’t she manage to keep her gaze from the firm contours of that mouth? “I might have,” he conceded.
“You did. I saw the interview.”
“You’ve been watching my interviews? Should I be flattered?”
“Ha. You’ve been on every major network for the last few weeks. I’d have to hide in a cave to have missed the sight of you. It seems the whole world is fascinated by the pirate archeologist from the Underwater Archeology Unit.”
He sprang his trap by laughing. The sound did funny things to her insides. It was a low, mellow kind of laugh. The kind that said it was used often and well. The kind that ensnared every nerve ending in her body in a web of awareness.
Awareness, she had learned, that was not to be trusted. He’d make her want things if she wasn’t careful. He was danger—in huge capital letters. If she had an ounce of intelligence left in her brain, she’d throw him out on the street and make sure he stayed there.
But he tricked her with that laugh. It took the edge off his presence—made him approachable. And likable. Just what she needed—to like the man. She reminded herself that she found his ego insufferable and his love of public spectacle unbelievably annoying.
Amusement danced in his eye. “The match is yours, Professor,” he conceded as he leaned forward. His faint scent of fresh air, sea salt and testosterone tickled her nose. “I can see why Jerry is so enchanted with you.”
She didn’t take the bait. “You are not getting unrestricted access to my house. I’ve got a life to run.”
“That house is more than just your private property.” As if his energy for the project physically drove him, he
