Sydney ran her fingertip around the rim of the ivory coffee cup. Even by New
York standards, the brew was terrible. But she was drinking every last drop. Black.
She needed Cole to know she meant business, because he looked like the kind
of guy who'd walk right over her if she so much as blinked.
She contemplated him from across the table. He was a big man, all muscle and
sinew beneath a worn, plaid shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing tight,
corded forearms. He had thick hair, a square chin, a slightly bumped nose, and
expressive cobalt eyes that turned sensual and made her catch her breath.
He was going to be a challenge. But then anything to do with the antique brooch,
Thunderbolt of the North, had to be a challenge. She'd have been disappointed
if it had gone any other way.
"So what brings you to Blue Earth Valley, Sydney Wainsbrook?" he
drawled into the silence.
She smiled, liking her audacious plan better by the second. She'd worried he
might be obnoxious or objectionable, but he was a midnight fantasy come to life.
Why some other woman hadn't snapped him up before now was a mystery to her.
"You do," she said.
"Me?"
She took a sip of her coffee. "Yes, you."
"Have we met?"
"Not until now."
He sat back, blue eyes narrowing. Then a flash of comprehension crossed his
face and he held up his palms. "Whoa. Wait a minute."
"What?" Surely he couldn't have figured out her plan that quickly.
"Did my grandmother put you up to this?"
Sydney shook her head, relieved. "No, she didn't."
"You sure? Because--"
"I'm sure." The only person who had put Sydney up to this was Sydney.
Well, Sydney and a thousand hours of research in museum basements across Europe.
She moved her cup to one side and leaned forward, her interest piqued. "But
tell me why your grandmother might have sent me."
He tightened his jaw and sat back in purposeful silence.
Sydney wriggled a little in her seat. "Uh ha. I can tell this is going
to be good."
He didn't answer, just stared her down.
"Dish," She insisted, refusing to be intimidate. She had a feeling
people normally gave him a wide berth. And she had no intention of behaving like
normal people. Surprise was one of her best weapons.
He rolled his eyes. "Fine. It's because she's an incorrigible matchmaker."
Sydney bit down on a laugh. "Your grandmother is setting you up?"
He grimaced. "That sounded pathetic, didn't it?"
"A little."
"She's a meddler. And... well..." He seemed to catch himself, and
he quickly shook his head. "Nah. Not going there. You tell me what you're
doing in Blue Earth Valley."
Sydney wrapped her hands around her coffee cup. Right. Stalling wasn't going
to change a thing. She'd plunge right in and hope to catch him off guard. "I'm
a curator from the Laurent Museum."
He didn't react. Didn't show any signs of panic. That was good.
"I've just finished three months research in Europe."
He waited. Still no reaction.
"It supplemented three years of previous research. My thesis, actually."
"You wrote a thesis?"
"Yes, I did. On the Thunderbolt of the North."
Okay. That got a reaction from him. His eyes chilled to sea ice, and his jaw
clamped tight.
"I understand you're the current owner."
He the flat of his hands came down on the table. "You understand wrong."
"Let me rephrase--"
"Good idea."
She leaned in again. "I know how it works."
"You know how what works?"
"The inheritance of the Thunderbolt. I know it goes to your wife. And
I'm here to offer to marry you."
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