Birthright

question.”
    “It was always tough to slide something by you.” He pushed his plate aside, reached over and took her hand. His fingers tightened when she tried to jerk it free. “Don’t be so damn prickly. Christ, Dunbrook, I’ve had my hands on every inch of your body and you get jumpy because I’ve got your fingers.”
    “I’m not jumpy, and they’re my fingers.”
    “You think you stopped mattering to me because you cut me loose?”
    “I didn’t cut you loose,” she said furiously. “You—”
    “Let’s just save that for another day.”
    “You know one of the things about you that pissed me off?”
    “I’ve got a list of them on a data bank.”
    “The way you interrupt me whenever you know I’m right.”
    “I’ll add that one. It occurs to me that we got to be a lot of things to each other, but we never got to be friends. I’d like to take a shot at it, that’s all.”
    If he’d told her he’d decided to ditch science and sell Avon products door-to-door, she’d have been no more surprised. “You want us to be friends?”
    “I’m offering to be your friend, you blockhead. I want to help you find out what happened.”
    “Calling me a blockhead isn’t very friendly.”
    “It’s friendlier than the alternate word that came to mind.”
    “Okay, points for you. There’s a lot of garbage between us, Jake.”
    “Maybe we’ll sift through it one of these days. But for now we’ve got two priorities.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. He couldn’t help himself. “The dig, and your puzzle. We’ve got no choice but to work with each other on the first. Why not do the same on the second?”
    “We’ll fight.”
    “We’ll fight anyway.”
    “True, very true.” That didn’t bother her nearly as much as the urge she was resisting to curl her fingers into his. “I appreciate it, Jake. I really do. Now let go of my hand. I’m starting to feel goofy.”
    He released her, dug out his wallet. “We can go back to your room. I’ll give you a foot rub.”
    “Those days are over, Jake.”
    “Too bad. I always liked your feet.”
    He paid the check, and kept his hands in his pockets as they walked outside.
    She blinked, in some surprise, against the strength of the sun. It seemed they’d been inside that bar for hours.But there was plenty of daylight left, she calculated. Enough to drive to the site and take a look, if she could drum up the energy.
    She pulled out her sunglasses, then pursed her lips when Jake yanked a sheet of paper from under his windshield.
    “ ‘Go back to Baltimore or you’ll pay,’ ” Jake read. He balled up the note, tossed it into the car. “I think I’ll run out and check on Digger.”
    “We’ll go out and check on Digger.”
    “Fine.” He climbed in, waited for her to slide into the seat beside him. “Heard you playing for a while last night,” he commented. “I’m right next door. Walls are thin.”
    “Then I’ll try to keep it down when I have Austin and Jimmy over for a party.”
    “See how considerate you are now that we’re friends?”
    Even as she laughed, he leaned over, pressed his lips to hers.
    She had an instant of pure shock. How could all that heat still be there? How could it? And cutting through the shock was a quick primal urge to move in, wrap around him and burn alive.
    Before she could, he was easing back, turning the key in the ignition. “Seat belt,” he said casually.
    She set her teeth, more furious with herself than with him. She yanked the seat belt in place as he backed up. “Keep your hands and your mouth to yourself, Graystone, or this friendship isn’t going to last very long.”
    “I still like the taste of you.” He made the turn out of the lot. “Hard to figure why after . . . Wait, wait, wait.” He tapped a hand on the wheel. “Speaking of taste. Suzanne Cullen. Suzanne’s Kitchen?”
    “Huh?”
    “I knew it was familiar. Christ, Cal. Suzanne’s Kitchen.”
    “Cookies? Those amazing chocolate chip cookies?”
    “Macadamia nut brownies.” He made a low sound of pleasure. “Quiet—I’m having a moment.”
    “Suzanne Cullen is Suzanne’s Kitchen.”
    “Great story. You know, baking in her little house in thecountry. Entering her pies and cakes in county fairs. Starting a little business, then boom, a national treasure.”
    “Suzanne’s Kitchen,” Callie repeated. “Son of a bitch.”
    “Could explain your genetic obsession with sugar.”
    “Very funny.” But the tickle