Free Look What the Wind Blew In by Ann Charles Page B

naturally to you?”
    Angélica smiled. “Dig.”
    * * *
    Later that afternoon, Quint leaned against the passage wall in the outer Temple of the Crow. After working in the heat and humidity all morning and then swimming through it again following lunch and a quick siesta , he felt like he’d been wrung out and hung up to drip—there was no way he’d dry in this sauna.
    “We’re not going back in that tomb are we?” He didn’t even bother wiping away the sweat rolling down from his temple. More would follow as soon as he sopped it up.
    Angélica shook her head. “It’s too hot in there now. As the day goes on, we work our way from inner chambers to outer ones.”
    “Thank the Maya gods for that. I had visions of you shoe-horning me back through that damned crevice.”
    “Listen, I may be bossy, but I’m not a slave driver. We’re not building Egyptian pyramids here.” She sipped from her bottle of water while frowning at him. “If you have a heat stroke where I can’t pull you out quick, we’re in trouble.”
    Eyeing her up and down, he considered her words. He couldn’t see her dragging him out of anywhere, although she was no lightweight.
    She packed away her water bottle. “When you’re ready, I’ll show you the main hall I told you about earlier. Esteban can catch up with us when he’s finished outside with his cigarette.”
    Quint pushed away from the wall, careful not to split open his skull on the low ceiling. He trailed behind her, admiring the view of her backside. He might be hotter than hell, but he wasn’t dead. Not yet anyway.
    She’d tucked the sleeves of her T-shirt under her bra straps, leaving the curves of her shoulders bare. Sweat glistened on her skin, dotting the back of her top. Not once today had she complained about the heat or even slowed down. He was starting to doubt she was human.
    “Here we are,” she whispered a minute later and led him by the arm. She tiptoed into a large open chamber, pulling him along behind her, shushing him with her index finger to her lips. He nodded, pretending to zip his lips. When they stilled, she released her hold on him.
    A rustling sound echoed through the room, mixed with an assortment of hoarse, grating-like rattles, clicks, and coos. So this was why it was named the Temple of the Crow.
    He stepped gingerly through the bird droppings, peering up at the high ceiling. Thick shadows swallowed the light where steep vaults came together. The birds must have built their nests on the flat, square capitals that connected each of the limestone columns running the length of the room to the vaulted ceiling. Across the vast chamber, a platform rose two feet above the rest of the floor.
    Slivers of light pierced through thin apertures in the walls, adding a sacred air to the room. He peered across the room in the half-light, trying to make sense of the decorative carvings covering the low wall of the platform.
    A brief fluttering overhead brought his attention back to the tall columns. At the base of each, faded and chipped paintings wrapped around the limestone. He’d need his other camera to really capture the hallowed feel of the chamber, maybe enhancing the colors with a tobacco filter, sharpening with a polarizer.
    In the empty spaces between each column, a three-foot statue stood guard. Some of the statues had crumbled, but the majority remained intact, complete with impressive detail work emphasized by the room’s deep shadows.
    For now, he’d take some quick shots.
    As he pulled his camera from his pocket, Angélica caught his hand. She pointed at the ceiling.
    “I know,” he mouthed back. He already had his shutter set to silent mode on his camera.
    She pulled him down so she could whisper close to his ear. “It’s a corbel-vaulted ceiling.”
    Her words tickled over his skin, the heat of her breath making him sweat for an entirely different reason. He tried to focus on the task at hand, to rein in his growing attraction for Steel’s