Chapter One
“McAdams, what are you still doing here?”
Tessa jumped as her name was called, dropping the pottery shard she held.
Dr. Brody Jackson strode toward her, his dark black hair gleaming under the hot Egyptian sun.
Tessa bent down to retrieve the shard, hoping he hadn’t noticed her clumsiness. As the excavations leader, Brody was very exacting about the handling of archaeological materials. Each tiny artifact they retrieved from the earth was another clue in the mystery surrounding King Sekhemkhet’s tomb. As the most senior doctoral student, Tessa was practically Brody’s equal on the dig. The only problem was she seemed to fall to pieces whenever he was around. His six-foot-two frame and piercing eyes had a habit of flustering her, and archaeological facts and theories she’d been studying for years slipped her mind when he was near.
“Y-yes, I’m still here,” she stuttered as he approached. There was something about his scent—warm and spicy with a hint of sweat from working all day in the broiling desert heat—that made her heart rate accelerate. “I’m just finishing up with the survey of this section.”
“And dropping valuable artifacts,” he noted dryly.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “You startled me. I thought everyone else had left.” This wasn’t quite true; she had watched the rest of the crew pack up and head back to the hotel for cold showers and colder beers, but she had stayed on because she could see Brody by the western quadrant, still examining the artifacts they had discovered that day. She was determined to prove to him that she was a good worker, and she was damned if she’d leave the site before him. The fact that she got an unobstructed view of his nice ass as he bent to look over the finds was just a bonus.
Forget the whereabouts of the pharaoh’s tomb; since arriving at Saqqara, south of Cairo, the real mystery for Tessa was where this unbridled lust for Brody came from. No other man had ever had such a visceral effect on her. Whenever she saw Brody all she could picture were his calloused hands touching the delicate skin of her breasts, his strong tongue running down the soft rise of her tummy, his sweaty, hard body pressed against hers. She couldn’t keep her stratigraphy straight when she found herself staring into his deep brown eyes and the only projectile point she could think of when he loomed over her was the one in his pants.
Before she had arrived in Saqqara, she had never thought of herself as a particularly sexual person. She had spent her twenties poring over dry and dusty archaeology textbooks in a quest for her doctorate. It was only since she’d hit her thirties that she had started to wonder if she had missed out on something by confining her sex life to a few brief and unsatisfactory flings, usually with nerdy fellow students. Those questions were answered the instant she had set foot on the hot sands of the Western Desert and seen the even hotter bod of Dr. Brody Jackson.
Suddenly archaeology took a backseat to her libido. Instead of hypothesizing about the whereabouts of Sekhemkhet’s tomb, she found herself fantasizing about Brody. She imagined that they were alone one night at the dig. The stars were out above them, hard and crystalline in the inky blackness of the night sky. Brody would come to her and tell her that he wanted her. She imagined herself stripping for him, yanking her white tank top over her head to expose her small, proud breasts. She’d meet and hold his gaze while she slowly undid her belt buckle and slid her dusty shorts down over her slim hips to land in a heap at her feet. She’d see the unbridled lust in his eyes and watch the bulge grow in his pants as he drank in her nakedness. Then she’d approach, always holding his gaze, and push him down onto the hot sand. She’d straddle him and pull out his hard, heavy cock. She’d stroke him up and down, until he was ready and begging for her. Then she’d shift her
“McAdams, what are you still doing here?”
Tessa jumped as her name was called, dropping the pottery shard she held.
Dr. Brody Jackson strode toward her, his dark black hair gleaming under the hot Egyptian sun.
Tessa bent down to retrieve the shard, hoping he hadn’t noticed her clumsiness. As the excavations leader, Brody was very exacting about the handling of archaeological materials. Each tiny artifact they retrieved from the earth was another clue in the mystery surrounding King Sekhemkhet’s tomb. As the most senior doctoral student, Tessa was practically Brody’s equal on the dig. The only problem was she seemed to fall to pieces whenever he was around. His six-foot-two frame and piercing eyes had a habit of flustering her, and archaeological facts and theories she’d been studying for years slipped her mind when he was near.
“Y-yes, I’m still here,” she stuttered as he approached. There was something about his scent—warm and spicy with a hint of sweat from working all day in the broiling desert heat—that made her heart rate accelerate. “I’m just finishing up with the survey of this section.”
“And dropping valuable artifacts,” he noted dryly.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “You startled me. I thought everyone else had left.” This wasn’t quite true; she had watched the rest of the crew pack up and head back to the hotel for cold showers and colder beers, but she had stayed on because she could see Brody by the western quadrant, still examining the artifacts they had discovered that day. She was determined to prove to him that she was a good worker, and she was damned if she’d leave the site before him. The fact that she got an unobstructed view of his nice ass as he bent to look over the finds was just a bonus.
Forget the whereabouts of the pharaoh’s tomb; since arriving at Saqqara, south of Cairo, the real mystery for Tessa was where this unbridled lust for Brody came from. No other man had ever had such a visceral effect on her. Whenever she saw Brody all she could picture were his calloused hands touching the delicate skin of her breasts, his strong tongue running down the soft rise of her tummy, his sweaty, hard body pressed against hers. She couldn’t keep her stratigraphy straight when she found herself staring into his deep brown eyes and the only projectile point she could think of when he loomed over her was the one in his pants.
Before she had arrived in Saqqara, she had never thought of herself as a particularly sexual person. She had spent her twenties poring over dry and dusty archaeology textbooks in a quest for her doctorate. It was only since she’d hit her thirties that she had started to wonder if she had missed out on something by confining her sex life to a few brief and unsatisfactory flings, usually with nerdy fellow students. Those questions were answered the instant she had set foot on the hot sands of the Western Desert and seen the even hotter bod of Dr. Brody Jackson.
Suddenly archaeology took a backseat to her libido. Instead of hypothesizing about the whereabouts of Sekhemkhet’s tomb, she found herself fantasizing about Brody. She imagined that they were alone one night at the dig. The stars were out above them, hard and crystalline in the inky blackness of the night sky. Brody would come to her and tell her that he wanted her. She imagined herself stripping for him, yanking her white tank top over her head to expose her small, proud breasts. She’d meet and hold his gaze while she slowly undid her belt buckle and slid her dusty shorts down over her slim hips to land in a heap at her feet. She’d see the unbridled lust in his eyes and watch the bulge grow in his pants as he drank in her nakedness. Then she’d approach, always holding his gaze, and push him down onto the hot sand. She’d straddle him and pull out his hard, heavy cock. She’d stroke him up and down, until he was ready and begging for her. Then she’d shift her
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