My Three Wives update

Nadine ended up doing nothing. Lara made it to the hut that would be her home for the next month unmolested. Unfortunately.

Going inside, Lara quickly saw that the homestead was to her spartan liking—a point in Nate’s favor, if he had handled readying it for her—and she changed clothes to a blue tanktop and set of khaki shorts that made her feel like she was taking a corset off. Then she rode out again with Nadine to find the third point of the triangle. Alec MacArthur, the government archaeologist in charge of the dig site.

Nate was the digger, she was the money, but Alec was the actual academic, respected enough in government circles for the Indians to liaise with him. Despite his ineffectual-seeming job title, he was by no means as fussy as most intellectuals Lara knew. In fact, he reminded Lara of a handsome headmaster from her youth, the kind schoolgirls might nurse an illicit crush on, with his silvery hair, mannish moustache, and three-piece suit on a broad, barrel-chested frame. 

Alec sat at a card table underneath a vast umbrella, playing solitaire in the shade. He did not look up when the jeep pulled up in another swirling of disturbed sand. He did not even rise when Lara walked over to him and sat herself in another threadbare canvas seat at the table.

“Playing a tough opponent?” she asked of his card game in a light tone of voice.

Alec frittered away a few moments on lifting his head, recognizing her, and tamping down what little frizz had made its way into his otherwise carefully parted hair. “Ms. Croft, how are you? How was the flight?”

“High-spirited,” Lara quipped.

“The drive over?”

Lara once more thought of Nadine and her ignored overture. “Uneventful.”

“And how’s everyone at home?”

“They send their regards.”

“Good, good.” Alec flipped over a card, finishing the game, and then shuffled all the cards into a single deck. “I’m sure you’re as eager to hear of our progress as I am to tell you. We’ve made great strides since last we were in contact.”

“Let’s hear it,” Lara said, though a pang of disquiet disturbed her digestion of her last meal. She’d had enough dig sites turn into war zones to know that archaeological finds offered as many risks as they did rewards.

“We’ve found evidence of human inhabitation.” Alec’s expression seemed to glow; his words most certainly did. “Finger bones, eating utensils. We’re quite close. Today, tomorrow… it’s hard to wait!”

Lara nodded. “Which way?”

Alec pointed and Lara went to the tent he’d indicated, finding the discoveries easily inside it. Two pieces of bone in a glass case, both tagged, the writing in Alec’s scrawled hand. Lara bent over to read all the details, wondering if he had used the C14 radiocarbon test to date them, or chemically treated them for preservation when they were moved to a different environment.

“Y’know, it seems rude to bring up the shorts, but at the moment, how can I not?”

The words were spoken lightly, with a lazy but unobjectionable insolence that many women might find charming. Lara’s first reaction was to whirl on the male intrusion. And it had to be male. No woman could couple such arrogance with such a sumptuous appreciation of her body.

Lara coolly straightened, then—deliberately casual—turned to face him. Seeing Nate Drake in the flesh, Lara’s first impression was that of an American cowboy whose stance and tight-fitting chinos emphasized the musculature of his thighs and the slimness of his hips.

“That is to say, you wear the hell out of those shorts. But I’ve got to say, you aren’t doing anything wrong with that tank top either.” Nate spoke with open admiration, but his eyes weren’t lecherous—they were sharp and assessing. As jovial as he sounded, Nate was sizing her up.

Lara took him in just as frankly. He was a handsome man, certainly. Aware of it. Intellectual and witty, but with a disdain for the preening—Lara wondered if he got along well with Alec. In good shape, obviously. Strong legs, strong arms, a relatively broad chest on a runner’s body. Stubble glazed his square jaw: he was used to roughing it and wore it well, unlike Alec who looked like he’d just been to a barber’s shop. Awkward, somehow, this far from home. Not like Nate, who looked as natural as a wolf in the woods.

“Should I lean over so you can look down my top or have I shown you enough to meet with your approval?” Lara asked challengingly, crossing her arms under her chest, knowing that made her bust more prominent.

Nate was taken aback, but he didn’t take the bait. Apparently he decided this was enough sparring for a first meeting, so instead of another flirtatious comment, he extended his hand. “Nathan Drake.”

Lara shook it, aware but giving no indication of the electric effect his touch had on her. “Lara.”

Upon hearing her name, he grinned, with a dash of eroticism. Her reputation proceeded her. Lara was sure many in his line of work would dearly love to bed the famous Lady Croft. She just had to ascertain which would be more enjoyable: allowing him to succeed or simply watching him try.

“I had a cat named Lara once.”

“Did she purr?”

“All day and all night.”

“I only do that if I’m petted right.”

Nate stepped closer to her. She was very aware of how close his groin was to her own. “What do you do if you’re petted wrong?” he asked, leaning even closer, the outline of his cock grazing against her shorts. As light as the contact was, it felt like a claim of ownership.

Crazy, this is crazy—I never let a man touch me this way, not without toying with him much more than this. Lara sidestepped, circling around him, evading without altogether retreating. 

His body still called to her. Lara stood rigidly erect, feeling like she was being matched against both him and her own flesh.

“Finding out things like that—isn’t that the definition of getting to know someone better?”

“You’d like me to get to know you better?” Nate asked incredulously. “How much do you need to know?”

“I’d like to get to know you at all.”

“Haven’t you heard of me?”

“Legends,” Lara retorted. “I’d like to know what’s real.”

“You’re real enough for me.”

“Careful, Mr. Drake. The cats out here aren’t tamed.”

“I think they could be,” Nate replied with a devastating grin.

“I’d’ve thought you’d be too busy to break one in,” Lara said testily, now hugging herself a bit defensively. 

“I could make time.” Nate’s soft laugh sent interesting feelings down her spine. “Are you afraid of me?”

Lara scoffed, all the more so because she was. Afraid that one touch, one kiss, would rob her of her self-respect. She redoubled her commitment to making him earn her, if she decided to let him. “Hardly. I’m this dig’s major backer. I could have you thrown out of camp with a word.”

Nate tossed his shaggy head about. “Why? Don’t you want to get your money’s worth?”

“Absolutely. Which is why there’s no time like the present to go after what interests me. Excuse me.” She turned to the table. Her hands shook as she picked up the finger bone of whatever Dravidian tribesman they’d dug up.

Then she felt Nate’s lips brush against the back of her neck. Lara froze. He’d actually stolen a kiss from her! The cheeky bugger! Lara turned, but in the time it had taken her to process what had happened, he’d stepped away.

The tent was empty except for her.