by J. R. Ward
There was a long pause and then, abruptly, Carter’s expression changed from hurt to angry. She shot to her feet. “We’re going back. Right now. Before I do something else I’ll regret.”
“Else?”
“Sleeping with you was clearly a mistake. I don’t want to compound the error by trying to drown you.” With a violent movement, she wrapped a towel around herself.
“You know, I never pictured you as the hysterical type.”
She turned on him, emphasizing her words with clipped consonants. “This is not hysterical. This is pissed off. There’s a big difference.”
Nick watched her march down into the cabin and then cursed in frustration. The words that had come out of his mouth, the tone he’d used, everything about the fight was familiar to him. It was what he had done countless times before. The behavior felt oddly safe.
That was when something occurred to him. He knew what was coming next. Following one of these scenes, there was always relief. A sweet rush would course through his blood as he realized he was untouched, unhampered. Free.
Desperately, he waited for the salvation to come.
Minutes passed.
He took a deep breath, eager for the release.
It was ten minutes later that Nick wrenched a hand through his hair. His chest was still tight, his muscles rigid, his heart in a knot.
“Dammit,” he said roughly, feeling cheated. He wasn’t supposed to feel worse.
Then again, Carter never had fit into his pattern.
Getting up, he went over to the door she’d slammed shut. He was surprised at what he was prepared to do. Was he actually going to try to apologize? Yes, he was.
Nick hesitated. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say. He knew only that he felt far, far worse after pushing her away, not better.
When the cabin door opened abruptly, he reached out for her.
“Carter, I’m sorry.”
“Oh no, you don’t.” With an angry shove, she pushed him away. “Let me teach you the difference between pissed off and hysterical. The whole contrite thing works with hysterical. It doesn’t do jack for someone who’s pissed off. So you can take your apologies and go practice them in the mirror. No doubt, you’ll need them for the next skirt who’s dumb enough to fall into bed with you.”
“Will you let me explain?” There was a pleading tone in his voice that he’d never heard before.
“There’s nothing to explain. I saw what happened to Candace.”
“You’re not like her.”
“That’s not true. I was surprised when you pushed me away, too.” She went to the helm. “Now, get the anchor out of the damn water and let’s end this charade right now.”
Nick stared at her for a long time, and she looked him right in the eye, all coldness and defiance.
“What are you waiting for?” she demanded. “If you think I’m going to let you walk all over me, you’re out of your mind.”
“Look, I’m not good at this—”
“Obviously. But I don’t give a rat’s ass. I want to go home. Now.”
Their eyes met.
He’d blown it. Big-time.
“If you’re waiting for me to come around,” she said in a brusque voice, “I might as well start swimming. Because you’ll be in this bay ’til hell freezes over waiting for me to give you another shot.”
“Fine.” He turned away, scowling. “Start the engine.”
“With pleasure.”
11
CARTER WALKED up the mountain alone after shooting down Nick’s offer to escort her up the trail. She couldn’t wait to be by herself. The trip back from the bay had been one long, tense silence, punctuated by her terse commands from the helm and his tight responses. The whole time, she could feel his eyes on her, boring into her.
Considering the state she was in, she thought she’d done a bang-up job keeping her composure on the damn boat. Now that she was alone, though, she felt like collapsing. Her pride gone, her anger dissipated, all she felt was a sick ache. The fact that she should have known better was just one more shadow in the nightmare.
When she’d woken from her blissful doze and rolled over in his lap, she’d expected to see the joy and happiness she was feeling in his face. Instead, he’d been looking at her with a cold detachment. It had been a shock, to say the least, and then he’d followed it up by speaking to her in that condescending way. She cringed as she remembered what he’d said.
After making love to her like no one else had or probably could, he’d promptly reverted to type. He was a pursuer, she thought. And men who liked to chase things didn’t find much amusement in keeping them. It was exactly what she had feared.
If only she’d listened to her instincts.
When Carter reached the summit clearing, she looked out over the lake and tried to pull herself together. She was bitterly sorry she’d let things go so far with him and felt like throwing her head back and screaming.
Instead of indulging the impulse, she looked toward the sunset, taking in the magnificent peaches and pinks that stretched across the horizon. It was what her grandmother would have called a lovers’ sky. One so special, it had to be shared.
Be honest, Carter said to herself. What had she expected would happen when they made love? That he was going to miraculously change and become a sensitive, accessible, warm-and-fuzzy kind of guy? That Candace’s fate wouldn’t fall on her head? That they’d embark on a long, mutually satisfying relationship?
That she would be the exception?
Well, yes. And the other half of the problem was that she hadn’t been thinking much at all. When he’d kissed her, she’d been lost to him. It was that simple.
Lovers’ sky, my ass, she thought, turning away.
“Where’s the printout of my daily log?” Carter asked the next day. She was talking to herself as she rooted around Papercut Central, weeding through loose-leaf binders, notepads, and files.
“It’s right there, isn’t it?” Ellie said, coming to help.
“It should be. I thought I put it here yesterday before I left.”
“Could it be in your tent?”
Buddy poked his head inside. He hadn’t shaved or brushed his hair yet, and his glasses were slightly off-center, but he was looking perfectly happy as he sipped his coffee. “You lose something?”
“I can’t find the site records, either,” Carter murmured.
Frowning, Buddy put his mug down. “They’ve got to be here somewhere. When we finished removing the second skeleton yesterday morning, I spent two hours writing it all up. I was sitting right here.”
He looked through the piles of paper on the table and, when he came up empty-handed, they searched the whole camp.
When that yielded nothing, Buddy scratched his head. “Maybe someone was up here yesterday while we were gone.”
“How long were you guys away?” Carter asked.
“We went to town. Did some shopping. Got the car back. Probably two, three hours.”
“But how would anyone get up here?” Ellie interjected. “Ivan the Terrible knows where everyone is.”
Her father shrugged. “There’s the access road that Cort uses for the four-wheeler. It comes up the other side of the mountain. It’s a lot less direct, but no one down at the mansion would know. Except what the hell would someone want with those records? They’re hardly light reading. Who would care?”
“Conrad Lyst cares,” Carter said softly. Buddy’s eyes shifted to hers.
“Who’s Conrad Lyst?” Ellie asked. “Is he a thief?”
“A loser, to put it in your terms,” her father replied. “And a rotten archaeologist. He could dig up a landfill and not find any garbage. But he’s not going to traipse all the way into the Adirondacks just to take a tutorial on digging strategy. Right, Carter?”
When she didn’t answer, two heads snapped in her direction.
Buddy looked back at his daughter. “Hey, do you mind going to the site and getting—”
> “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Not at all.”
“Look, you should just say so,” Ellie told him agreeably. “I’m going to wash up at the river.”
After the girl left, Buddy frowned. “What haven’t you been telling me?”
“He was up here before,” Carter answered, feeling badly she hadn’t told him sooner. “The day you and Ellie went to drop off your car in town.”
“Good Lord. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’ve been meaning to.”
“And it just didn’t come up?”
“It was no big deal.” Her eyes darted away from the concern on his face. “He just played bull in the ring and pawed the ground a little.” She could tell by his worried expression that Buddy didn’t buy the lie.
“I wish you’d said something to me earlier. You tell Farrell?”
“No. I didn’t think it was necessary.”
“But now we’ve got papers missing. Farrell should know.”
“No, he shouldn’t.” Carter’s voice wavered at the mention of Nick, but she pressed on. “I’ve got the documents backed up on my hard drive, and I used my laptop this morning so I know it’s still around. The missing printouts don’t materially affect the dig.”
“But this is serious. If Lyst came back and took the logs—”
“He’d have no idea what to do with them. That man’s analytical skills are as sharp as bread dough, and besides, the finds are all still here and it’s not like he can barge in and start digging.”
Buddy frowned, pensively. “If he can’t do anything with the logs, why would he want them?”
“Most likely, he wants to know if we’ve found the gold, and he probably kept them to send a message. He’s the type who’d do it just to rattle our cage and make sure we knew he’d been here.”
Her friend took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “You know, it’s not just that I don’t respect the man. There’s something wrong with him.”
You got that right, she thought.
He looked over in the direction of the stream. “I think I’m going to stick closer to Ellie from now on.”
Carter watched him leave in a hurry and wished there was something reassuring she could say. Buddy had always watched over her, and she could tell he was worried not only about Ellie but about her as well.
She turned back to the piles of papers and files and started straightening them. When she heard footsteps on the ground, she said, “Buddy, I should call the Hall Foundation and give Grace an update. She’ll be thrilled about the skeletons.”
“You can use the phone down at the house,” Nick said in a level voice.
Carter swallowed a gasp and stiffened. She refused to turn around and continued to fiddle with the papers. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” His tone was low and quiet, as if he didn’t want to startle her.
“Why?” Her hands were shaking as she picked up a file and pretended to sort through it. She wanted desperately for him to go away. She needed space to lick her wounds, not more injuries to fix.
“We need to talk.”
She threw the folder down and glared at him. “I’m done talking. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”
“Can’t you just listen to me?” She saw a flash of frustration cross his face.
Shaking her head, she didn’t bother to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “I already listened to you yesterday. You were pretty damn eloquent with the put-downs and, because my short-term memory’s working just fine, I remember every word you said. I don’t need to hear it again, thank you very much.”
“Oh for Chrissakes, Carter, will you give me a break?”
“Now you’re the victim?” She laughed harshly. “You know, it’s rare to be so deluded and not be on medication.”
Nick pushed a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to argue with you. I came up here to apologize and to see if we can start over.”
“I’m not interested in starting over. One trip through the grinder with you has been enough. Besides, I know how you can’t abide hysterical girlfriends, and we wouldn’t want to upset you again, would we?”
She turned and started out blindly for the site but he caught up with her, taking her arm in a strong grip.
“Let go of me,” she whispered urgently. “Please, just let me go.”
His response was equally intense. “I can’t do that. I was up all last night, thinking of you, regretting what I said.”
With an achingly slow movement, he brought his hand up to her face and stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. She slapped his touch away.
“No!” she cried out, wrenching away. “I will not let you do this to me.”
She took a few halting steps backward.
“Carter, please.”
She shook her head fiercely. “I’m going to get to work now. Because the faster I’m through, the faster I can be free of you.”
His eyes were unwavering on hers, the pale irises a vivid contrast to their black centers. There was a long, taut silence.
“Tonight, you will come down for dinner.” His voice was low and steady. Commanding.
“No.”
“Yes, you will. To report on the dig.”
His abrupt change of direction surprised her. “No.”
“I have a right to know how it’s going.”
“Then Buddy can—”
“Go to hell. I want you.”
Carter threw a curse at him. He didn’t flinch, just kept looking at her with single-minded determination.
He took his sunglasses out of the pocket of his Windbreaker and slid them on. “As you recall in the grant, you have an obligation to report to me when I wish. So I wish for a report. Tonight. At seven.”
“You are a bastard.”
“I know.”
With those tight words, he disappeared down the trail.
In the wake of his departure, Carter realized she was shaking from head to foot. She sat down at the picnic table and put her head in her hands.
The last thing she wanted to do was be alone with Nick and try to talk about her work. But what choice did she have? She wasn’t going to risk losing the dig and she knew he was fully capable of following through on his threat to throw them off his property.
She was tempted to walk away from the project. Sorely tempted.
But then Buddy and Ellie came back from the river, full of talk about their work and what they’d found so far. As she watched her friends’ excitement and enthusiasm, envying their carefree happiness, she didn’t want to let them down.
She also didn’t want to explain why she needed to leave.
Seeing that she had no choice, Carter resolved to go down a little early and call Grace. She needed to report to the Hall Foundation, but more than that, she was desperate for moral support.
Much later, as the sun was setting, Carter put new copies of the logs in her backpack and walked down the mountain with a heavy heart and a defiant attitude. She’d taken part of the afternoon off and wandered the trails for a couple of hours. She’d used the time to armor herself for the evening.
When she arrived lakeside, she saw the mansion glowing in the gathering darkness. Her feet slowed as she approached the front door. When she finally raised the door knocker and let it fall, she was thinking about the first day she’d come to Nick’s house. It felt like years ago.
She was surprised when he opened the door. He had a glass of scotch in one hand and a portable phone up to his ear. As he motioned her to come in, a flash of heat surged in his face, only to be buried behind his reserve.
“Right,” he said to whomever was on the line. He closed the door behind her. “Listen, you need to adjust the analysis to include debt service payments of up to $60 million a year, and you’re wrong on the depreciation figures…”
He nodded for her to follow him. As they walked through the house to his study, his deep voice strung words
together that made no sense to her whatsoever. It was a foreign language, full of numbers and percentage points.
“Listen, I’ve got to go. Call Ronning. Tell him the boat’s sunk and you guys had better come back with something better. And get Ben involved. He’s the best damn corporate lawyer in the city.” He hung up the phone. “You’re early.”
“I need to make a call before I talk to you,” she told him stiffly.
“Be my guest.” Nick held the phone out.
Approaching him cautiously, she took it while being careful not to have their hands touch.
“You want some privacy?”
“Yes.”
He gave her a long look and then shut the door behind himself.
Dialing a familiar number, Carter quickly updated Grace on the dig and the complications that had unexpectedly come into her life. Her friend’s encouragement made her feel stronger and she was grateful for the boost. She hoped it would make the meeting with Nick easier to get through.
When she hung up the phone, she realized she’d taken a seat in his chair and was staring out over piles of documents. Idly, she looked over the fax machine, two other phones, and a laptop.
Procrastinating, she peered over at a stack of papers, seeing where he’d put notes down in the margins. The handwriting was bold and decisive, his comments direct. She thumbed through a couple of pages and kept seeing the name CommTrans. Something triggered in her memory but she couldn’t quite recall where she’d heard the name before.
Enough, she thought, getting to her feet. She was just prolonging the inevitable.
Leaving her backpack and her notes behind, she went looking for him. When she got close to the kitchen, she caught a whiff of something that smelled like roasted turkey. Her stomach grumbled with approval.
As she opened the butler’s door a crack, she saw Nick standing over the stove. He had a carving knife and fork in his hands.
“You eat yet?” he asked over his shoulder.
Carter was amazed he’d heard her. “No, but—”
“It’s Gertie’s night off. The plates are to the right of me. I think she left a salad in the refrigerator.”
“I didn’t come here to have dinner with you.”