Heart Of Gold (8 page)

Distance
was going to be critical, she decided. She was going to stay on top of that
mountain, do her job with lightning-fast efficiency, and avoid the man like he
was contagious.

That was
just the way it would have to be.

Setting
her shoulders, she went back upstairs and left word for Grace that the dig was
a go. Then she called the Swift household. By the time she put the phone down,
Buddy and his daughter were prepared to meet her at Farrell's house by the end
of the week. Jo-Jo, Buddy's better half, would be staying in Cambridge for the
summer to finish her current book.

Carter
smiled as she thought about her friend and colleague. She'd met Buddy on the
historical lecture circuit and they'd bonded immediately. He was an expert on
early North American military conflict and an excellent archaeologist. Theirs
had always been a relationship based on respect and friendship, and she liked
his wife tremendously. Jo-Jo, who was a professor of chemistry, understood the
closeness between the two historians and was happy to have Carter in their
lives.

The
Swifts, who had been married for almost twenty years, seemed like an unusual
pair. With a crop of wiry red hair on his head, Buddy was built like a string
bean and had boundless energy whereas Jo-Jo was a petite, quietly intense
woman. Their daughter, Louella, who refused to answer to anything but Ellie,
was halfway between the extremes of her parents. She had her father's height
and her mother's formidable intelligence, and could be by turns gregarious and
focused. They were a wonderful family and a lot of fun to work with.

Snapping
out of her reverie, she got up from her desk with purpose. There was packing to
do, she had to go to her university office and get some of her tools, and she
needed to think about provisions.

Carter
was about to go downstairs when she turned and looked back at her room.
Everything was the same as it had been when she'd woken up that morning. Her
clothes were still in the drawers and hanging in the closet, her papers were
filed next to her desk, her books were where she had left them.

But
somehow, it was all different. It was as if everything in the room had been
moved one inch in another direction.

Carter
thought of Nick Farrell standing by her desk, his wide shoulders taking up so
much space, those pale eyes watching her. Her memory of him was so clear, it
was as if a hologram of him remained after he'd left.

Why the
vividness?

She
wasn't sure, but she didn't want to dwell on that.

And why
did she feel so exposed with him in her study?

Of the
answers that came to mind, one bothered her most.

In the
year since she'd moved into the farmhouse, he was the first man she'd invited
into her home.

Carter
groaned.

Why did
she have to pick him? Why couldn't it have been someone more run of the mill?
An exterminator. A plumber.

An
extraterrestrial, for Chrissakes.

On
Tuesday, Carter pulled up in front of the Farrell mansion feeling conflicted.
She'd spent the previous two nights staring into the darkness and seeing Nick
Farrell's face. The lack of sleep and a curious, aching frustration were both
making her cranky.

It wasn't
the usual way she kicked off a dig. Most of the time, she'd be so excited to
get started she could barely stand it.

Stepping
from the Jeep, Carter wondered whether she had to check in with someone before
she headed up the trail. She was anxious to establish camp and knew from
experience that lugging her supplies and equipment was going to take most of
the day. Doing a meet-and-greet with the Farrell household would only slow her
down.

Liar.

She knew
the real reason she was so eager to get going, and it didn't have anything to
do with tents or shovels. She had a strong desire to avoid Nick Farrell. Their
two previous encounters had established a disturbing trend. Each time, he got
further under her skin and her unwanted attraction to him seemed to be getting
stronger. One more meeting and she could end up doing something really
ludicrous. Like kissing the man.

Just
then, Cort leapt out of the front door. Even though his jagged black hair was
standing at stiff attention, he was wearing a fresh pair of khaki shorts and a
white polo shirt. The look was a cross between post-modern Goth and the British
Sloane Ranger set. His smile was all-American track star.

The kid
was going to be a lady-killer just like his uncle, she decided, waving at him.

“I
saw you drive up and told Uncle Nick you're here. He's on the phone, as usual,
and is gonna be for a while. Hey, you need some help with all that?”

Carter
laughed as she opened the rear. “Does a drowning man need a life
jacket?”

“You
know what you want?”

“A
gondola?”

“I'll
be right back.”

With a
practiced hand, she began unloading, stacking duffle bags and crates on top of
each other. As the pile grew beside the car, it looked more overwhelming than
it had when it was still packed inside.

Minutes
later, she heard a roar and saw Cort racing over on a four-wheeler.

“That's
the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” she exclaimed, seeing the task
become exponentially more manageable and the chances of not tangling with the
elder Farrell improve. Hopefully, they could get her stuff out of the man's
front yard before he ended his call.

“There's
an access road that hooks into the back trail,” Cort explained.
“I can get pretty close to the site and carry the stuff the rest of the
way.”

"You
are heaven sent!”

As Carter
turned back to the car, she caught a glowing smile on the teenager's face. It
was sweet of him to be so helpful, she thought.

Using bungee cords, they
secured a load on the back rack of the four-wheeler and Cort ran it up the
mountain, dropped it off, and returned. In just over an hour; the car was empty
and Carter was further along than she'd expected to be by the middle of
the day. Nick hadn't shown his face either and she felt as though a small
victory was in reach when the last load was anchored on the machine. Quickly,
she changed into hiking boots, twisted her hair into a ball, and tugged a
baseball hat over it. Then, she strapped on a full pack that weighed
sixty pounds.

“That's
real heavy,” Cort commented with awe. “Shouldn't we take it up on the
four-wheeler?”

“I'm
fine. Hauling this on a separate trip would be a waste of gas.”

"Are
you sure I can't—”

The
kitchen's screen door clapped shut and both of them turned to see Nick come
out of the mansion. Carter smothered a curse. She'd been so close.

“That's
quite a load you've been moving,” he drawled.

She
watched as a laconic smile lifted his lips and had to tell herself not to look
away quickly. He was even more attractive than she remembered,
unfortunately. Dressed in tennis whites with a bag  of rackets slung over his
shoulder, he looked tan and virile. His arms were imposingly strong and so were
the muscles in his legs. She was a little surprised at how athletic he seemed
to be.

She
wondered what he looked like in swimming trunks and then wanted to kick
herself.

To her
chagrin, Nick didn't stop until he was standing two feet from her. She tried to
inch away but found the Jeep's rear bumper pressed up against the back of her
legs. With him so close, she could smell that tangy aftershave, and she noticed
he was freshly shaved.

“Do
you always bring this much stuff?” he asked with a teasing light in his
eye. “Looks like enough for an army. You planning on invading Canada in your spare time?”

She
fought the urge to smile back at him. “It's my standard gear and supplies,
and there'll be more when the rest of my team arrive.”

“More?
Hard to imagine.”

“I'm
very thorough.”

“Or
a consummate over packer.”

Cort came
to her defense with a defiant tone. “She's a professional. She needs these
things.”

Nick
checked his watch, growing grave when he looked at his nephew. “Are you
heading up the mountain again?”

“She
needs me.”

“Then
I think you better go inside first.”

“But
I—”

An arched
eyebrow cut the kid off. Something serious passed between the two.

“Meet
you up there?” Cort finally grumbled to her.

After she
nodded, he ran into the house and Nick let out a frustrated breath. “I
swear that kid would fight with me over which way is up.”

Carter
wasn't sure he wanted a response from her. He appeared preoccupied with private
thoughts, but then he looked over at her and she felt compelled to respond.

“He's
at a difficult age,” she offered gingerly, unsure of what his reaction
would be to any comment she made. “Is he any better with his
parents?”

“No.”
Pain flared in Nick's eyes only to be covered quickly with a cool mask.
Catching a glimpse of the emotion, Carter stared at him curiously. She was
trying to figure out a way to ask him more about Cort but then the kid
reappeared.

Striding
across the lawn with his head set at a high angle, he ignored his uncle.
“I'll run up the last load if you're sure you'd rather walk with the
pack.”

“Thanks.
I'll be fine on the trail.”

“See
you there.”

* * *

When
Carter turned back to Nick, his face was totally unreadable and, as interested
as she was, she didn't pursue the conversation about his nephew.

“You
won't see me for the next few days,” she said. “I'll be setting up
camp, doing some surveying, and staking out the site. After my team arrives,
and we've done some real work, I'll come back down to report.”

His
expression lost its tension and he smiled at her. “On the contrary, I
think we'll be seeing plenty of each other.”

“Oh
no, we won't.” Carter shook her head vigorously. “I'm not going to
waste time coming down the mountain just to tell you where I pitched my tent
and what I'm having for dinner.”

His
dimple got bigger. “You forget, I know my way up the trail very well. I
also have a vast curiosity about the eating habits of archaeologists. No
telling how many times I'll feel compelled to come up for a visit.”

“I
don't think that's a good idea.”

“Why?”

She
racked her brain for a response that wouldn't reveal anything. “I'm a
professional and my work isn't a spectator sport.”

“I'll
be the judge of that.” His eyes passed over the backpack. “By the
way, are you still insisting on sleeping in the woods? We have plenty of space
down here, not to mention running water.”

Nick
laughed at her shake of the head.

“If
I didn't know better,” he murmured, “I'd say you want to avoid
me.”

His eyes
became hooded and a speculative, stunning light seeped out from under the lids.

Dragging
herself from the sensual pull, she said quickly, “I'm used to working
without interference.”

“Anyone
ever tell you you're too independent?”

“All
the time.” She turned to go.

“I'll
see you later today.”

“Do
whatever you want,” she muttered.

“All
the time, Carter Wessex. I do that always.”

When
Carter reached the clearing that faced the lake, she was glad she'd made the
climb. The effort of hoofing it up the mountain with a heavy weight strapped on
her back had released some of her frustrations. She leaned against a rock and
took a moment to catch her breath. Getting pushed to the physical limit had a
way of prioritizing things. She'd been so distracted by the necessity of
drawing air into her lungs, she'd almost forgotten about him.

As she
scanned the lake, taking in its gleaming reflection of the sky and sun, she was
surprised to find herself once more on Farrell’s mountain. She'd been so sure,
as she'd pulled away from the mansion days ago, that her first visit was going
to be her last.

With a
final, deep inhale, she headed through the trees to search for Cort and found
him halfway between the big view and the circle of rocks. He was coming from
the opposite direction, duffle bags hanging off him like he was a bellman's
trolley. By the size of the mound that was already on the ground, she could
tell he'd made a lot of trips from wherever the four-wheeler had been parked.

“I'm
almost finished.” He dropped his load. “I think this'll be the best
place for you to camp. There's a stream down to the right and you're close to
the site, but I can move these anywhere you like.”

Carter
inspected the flat stretch of ground nestled in a protected glen of pines.

“You
picked the perfect place.”

Cort's
eyes lit up with pride. “I'll be right back.”

While the
sounds of him walking through the woods diminished, Carter peeled off her pack
and surveyed the area. She was eager to get at the dig site but she knew she'd
appreciate having an established camp when night fell. By the time Cort came
back with the last bundles, she'd set up her tent and was gathering rocks to
make a secure fire pit. Even though she'd brought a butane-fueled hotplate and
a portable grill, the fire would be a welcome balm against cool evenings.

Together,
she and Cort strung up two dark-green tarps, one to serve as the mess tent and
the other to cover the office area. Under each, they erected folding tables and
chairs and then consolidated the food hampers and her equipment appropriately.
The rest of the afternoon was spent unpacking and getting things ready for the
digging to start. As they worked, Cort was fascinated by the variety of
shovels, brushes, and lab like vials she'd brought up to the mountain.