A low groan rumbled through her chest. Avery’s eyes slid shut as she asked for strength in dealing with the man. “Never mind.”
Knox shrugged, that damn grin twisting his lips even as his eyes began to twinkle.
Without asking he reached into a cooler and came up with a beer bottle. Water and ice slid down the smooth glass. Knox didn’t seem to care that it left a puddle on the floor at his feet.
He cupped his palm around her hand and sent a flame of awareness shooting up her arm. Slapping the bottle against her palm, he curled her fingers around the ice-cold surface. “You look like you could use this. If nothing else, it might help you sleep.”
Avery blinked at him, speechless.
Her brain, the thing that had faithfully served her for years, revolted. So her body took over, raising the bottle to her lips and pulling in a huge swallow. She didn’t particularly like beer, preferring cosmos and wine. Tonight, she didn’t even taste the liquid pouring down her throat.
Asher sauntered up to the two of them. Where the hell had he been a minute ago when she’d needed him?
He grinned at her, his eyes flashing mischief and mayhem. Whatever he’d sauntered over for couldn’t be good.
“Interesting wardrobe choice, Firecracker.”
Asher wasn’t the first person to give her that nickname. Her bright hair made it an obvious choice. Why couldn’t Knox have latched onto it instead of doc?
“Her beauty sleep was disturbed,” Knox said, his tone ripe with laugher. “Although I have to admit I like the robe better than the pearls, heels and business suit.”
Avery’s shoulders straightened and she wished she’d thrown on a pair of those heels so she could look him in the eye when she glared at him.
Being five foot four was often a hindrance, especially in the male-dominated field of nautical archaeology.
When she’d first started her career she’d wanted to eliminate at least one disadvantage when dealing with older male colleagues who tended to dismiss a young female out of hand. Heels and professional clothing had been her solution. And, over the years, had sort of become her signature. In her mind, projecting a competent, conservative image could never be a bad thing.
But apparently Knox McLemore didn’t see it that way.
“Hmm,” Asher murmured, taking a pull on his own beer. His gaze drifted down, lingering at the V where her robe closed. There wasn’t any heat in the perusal—it was more like it was a habit. “You do realize that just makes me want to find out what you’ve got on underneath, right?”
“Stop sexually harassing our employees, Ash. We’re going to end up with a lawsuit.” Knox frowned, his lips pulled into a tight, thin line.
A little-boy grin curled across Asher’s lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Avery realized Asher wasn’t playing with her, he was intentionally riling up Knox. Which was fine with her. The man deserved some of his own back.
Drawing another sip from her beer, Avery casually mentioned, “Technically, I’m not your employee.”
The corners of Asher’s eyes tipped up a little higher and his smile went to megawatt. “Does that mean I’m free to sexually harass you?”
Avery opened her mouth, but Knox beat her to it. “No, no you are not.”
“Doesn’t bother me,” she answered.
Asher chuckled, clinking the neck of his bottle against the one she still held in her hand. Then he winked and sauntered away. Avery watched him, not with lust, but fascination. She’d never had that kind of confidence.
“Stop staring, doc. Trust me, you don’t want to go there.”
“I didn’t...I don’t...” she sputtered, finally slamming her mouth shut.
Wrapping a hand around her arm, Knox led her through the room to the table he’d been propped against when she walked in. He settled his hips back against the edge. She did the same.
“Stay. Mingle. Have a beer. You’re going to be part of the team for the next couple weeks, Avery. It’s probably a good idea that you get to know the crew.”
The way he said her name, his low, smooth voice caressing each syllable, sent a jolt of something twisting through her. Was it the first time he’d actually used her name? She thought maybe it was.
She liked it a hell of a lot better than doc.
“I don’t need to braid hair, have a pillow fight or sneak beer from my parents’ fridge in order to bond with your team, Knox. I’d hope your crew is professional enough to do the same. No one has to like me in order to do their job.”
“No, you’re right. No one has to like you. It would make things easier, though. On everyone.”
They sat there, the weight of their silence, in contrast to the laughter and music surrounding them, pressing in on her until she had to say something.
“It’s not that I don’t want to be a part of the team. I’m not very good at bonding with colleagues.”
She should have felt anxious about making the confession. But there was something about Knox—while he usually made every muscle in her body tighten with tension, at the moment he’d somehow managed to put her at ease.
“That sounds...depressing.”
They sat there for several minutes. Avery watched as the people around them laughed. Why couldn’t she be that way? Why couldn’t she feel comfortable socializing like this?
Out of nowhere, Knox reached out and snagged a strand of her hair, running it between the pads of his thumb and forefinger. “Something tells me you worry too much. I like your hair down.”
The unconnected thoughts had her brain spinning. Or maybe that was the beer.
His hand continued down, the backs of his fingers brushing against the edge of her robe.
“Ash isn’t wrong. I’m dying to know what you’ve got on under this thing. Want to hear my guess?”
Avery swallowed. She did and she didn’t. She could take Asher flirting with her because she wasn’t attracted to him despite his charm and good looks.
But she didn’t think she could take Knox messing with her. Already she could feel the tide of blood rushing to the spot where his finger had brushed against her skin.
Somehow she found the strength to shake her head. Unfortunately, for some reason, the word, “Yes,” tumbled out of her parted lips at the same time.
Something mischievous flashed through his dark eyes, joining the dangerous grin that tugged at his wicked mouth.
“Well, judging by the rest of your clothes, something silky. Lots of lace. Probably in some soft color like pink or baby blue.”
Her voice was breathy, but not nearly as shaky as it could have been, when she responded, “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m wearing cotton shorts and a Texas International University tank top.”
His grin widened. “Now why would you think that would disappoint me? Actually, I like the idea of that a hell of a lot better than the lingerie.”
He leaned closer, his lips near enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. His scent welled up around her, a combination of musk and salt and man.
His low, quiet voice rumbled in her ear, “Gives me hope that deep down, beneath that perfectly polished surface you prefer to show the world, there’s a real woman.”
Breath caught in the back of her throat. Heat and longing flooded her system. Her fist tightened around the bottle in her hand, needing something to hold on to so that she wouldn’t reach for him.
And