students who spent most of their time in research libraries and classrooms didn’t qualify as authentic males, apparently.
One more reason to take this trip. He’d spend the summer living by his wits, relying only on his own labor and strength. He’d prove to Danielle—and to himself—that he had brains and brawn. That he was a real man.
So what would Danielle think if she could see him now, being bullied by shop venders?
He shoved the bottle back at the woman. “I don’t need any love potions,” he said. “There aren’t any women where I’ll be spending my summer.”
She narrowed her eyes, then grabbed his wrist in an iron grip and drew his hand toward her, palm up. She lowered her face until her nose was almost touching his skin and stared. He tried to pull away, but he might as well have been trying to free himself from a bear trap.
The woman raised her head and looked into his eyes. “No, you won’t need a love potion. But I have something else you will need.” She dropped his hand, whirled and chose another bottle from the shelf.
This small flask was purple, and was warm against his skin when she pressed it into his hand.
“What is it?” he asked.
She grinned again. “Drink this and you will be able to make love to any woman for hours. You will stay harder and larger and will give her pleasure like she has never known.”
He almost dropped the bottle, and felt his face grow hot. “Um, I don’t think I’ll need this, either.” No woman had ever complained about his, um, stamina before. “I told you, there aren’t any women where I’m going.”
“You are wrong. There is a woman in your future,” she said. “A seductress whose goal will be to wear you out.” She tapped the bottle with a long, painted nail. “With this, you will never wear out.”
A pair of tourists had entered the shop and were staring at him with open interest, obviously hearing every word the woman was saying. Ian pulled out his wallet, desperate to get rid of her. “How much?” he asked.
“Ten dollar,” she said. “Worth every penny.”
Ten dollars was robbery, but he paid it, anxious to be out of there and on his way. He shoved the bottle deep into his backpack, then ran the rest of the way toward the surplus store.
He told himself it was only his imagination that he could feel the woman’s eyes burning into his back as he escaped.
THE NEXT MORNING OVER breakfast, Adam asked Nicole if she’d had a bad night.
She yawned and stirred sugar into her coffee. “Why do you say that?”
He helped himself to a second bagel and began slathering it with cream cheese. “You don’t look as if you slept well.”
“I was up late reading.”
He smirked. “About Passionata?”
She nodded. “If she did even half the things she said she did, she was amazing.”
“Supposedly it’s all true, though I have my doubts.”
She sipped her coffee and studied him over the rim of her cup. Adam wouldn’t believe anything that wasn’t backed by scientific proof, but he’d thought enough of the book to lend it to her, so there must be some belief under his scepticism.
Not that he looked much like an academic this morning. He hadn’t bothered to shave and wore a stained T-shirt and shorts that were frayed at the hem and faded to the color of putty. She supposed some women might consider him handsome, but she wasn’t one of them. To her, he was just Adam. The one friend she could depend on. And one whose opinion she valued. “So what did you think of Passionata’s theory that women hold the true power in any relationship?”
“You mean all that stuff about using sex to literally bring a man to his knees?” He snorted. “I’ve known guys like that—ones who usually think with their dicks and end up letting some woman lead them around by the balls. But I think they’re the exception, not the rule.” He refilled his coffee cup. “Take me, for instance. I like sex as well as the next guy, but it’s not the be-all and end-all of my existence. Most of the time, it’s not even in the top three of things on my agenda.”
“You could get kicked out of the Real Man Club for saying that.” She reached for a bagel and a jar of jam. “So you’re saying you’d be immune to a woman like Passionata—an accomplished seductress?”
“You can only seduce someone who secretly wants to be seduced. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
Maybe so, but despite his belief otherwise, Nicole suspected Adam had his statistics backward and he was the exception to Passionata’s rule. He was a man absorbed by his work—both teaching and his work-related hobby of hunting for artifacts. Everything else—personal grooming, eating and relationships—took a back seat to these passions.
But other men—men like Kenneth—certainly did seem to base much of their decisions in life on sex: how to get it; who to get it from; how to keep it; how to get more of it. Hadn’t that been the reason Kenneth was sleeping with both her and the topless dancer from Pocono?
“So what’s your interest in Passionata?” she asked.
“What’s the first thing you think of when I say the word pirates?”
“Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom?”
He rolled his eyes. “Real pirates, not movie pirates.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Treasure, I guess.”
“Exactly.” He wiped his hands on a paper napkin. “Last summer, after I found Passionata’s autobiography, I started researching. I read everything I could get my hands on about her and her island headquarters. Have you got to the part in the book where she’s captured?
Nicole shook her head. “I fell asleep about a third of the way through.” Not because the book didn’t hold her interest, but because a day of sailing could wear a person out.
“I don’t think I’ll spoil it for you if I tell you she and her crew were trying to board a British merchant vessel when her ship—the Eve—ran onto the rocks and sank. The survivors of the wreck, including Passionata, were picked up by a second British Navy vessel. I’ve been searching through old nautical charts, seaman’s diaries, oceanographic surveys and the like, and I think I’ve located the wreck.”
“And the treasure.” It all fit together now. Not only did Adam have a passion for history, he was a fiend for locating real-life artifacts related to the subjects he taught. He had spent previous summers volunteering with an archeological crew in Mexico, hunting for mastodon bones in the Black Hills and restoring Native American middens in Utah. So far most of his finds had done more to enhance his career than his bank account, but maybe that was about to change. “That’s why you asked me to bring my diving gear,” she said.
He nodded. “We won’t have the time—or the money—to raise the ship and its contents. But I’m hoping we can locate enough items to interest backers who could fund a full-scale expedition next summer.”
“What
