Alcoholics Anonymous. Recovering alcoholic. He made the correction, but it still didn’t make him feel any better. She must have been a serious drinker. Had to be to go to those meetings. His old man wouldn’t be caught dead at one. But then, that’s what made such a difference between the two. She decided to quit and made it happen. She’d come out a winner. His old man hadn’t even tried. That’s why he was a loser.
He’d always wondered what went on at those AA meetings. Now, he would find out. He’d been prepared for her to hit the roof when he told her she wasn’t going alone and that the most she’d allow was for him to wait outside in the car.
Instead, she looked at him and shrugged. “It’s fine with me if you don’t mind sitting with the company I keep.”
He figured she was being sarcastic, a defense mechanism to hide what was going on inside. Even a jackass like himself knew admitting to a weakness and then inviting him to witness it firsthand had to be hard. He hopped out of bed and pulled on his jeans. In the hall, he started for the stairs but stopped instead outside the door across from his, a hand on the doorknob.
“Beck?”
Her voice was so faint he wasn’t at all sure he’d heard it.
“Beck, is that you?”
He eased open the door slightly. “Sorry if I woke you. I was checking on things.” Lie. But she didn’t have to know that.
She lifted herself to a sitting position, her upper body backlit by the narrow band of moonlight that filtered through the partially open blinds. “I was awake. I think I heard something.”
He rested a hand on the door frame. “Everything’s fine. I haven’t been asleep yet so I would have heard anything out of the ordinary. You’re just jumpy. You’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.”
“Are you having trouble sleeping in a strange bed?”
Ha. Empty bed was more like it. “Must be. I’m on my way downstairs to watch the tube for a while. I’ll keep it low so I don’t disturb you.” His eyes had adjusted to the dim light, and he could see twin strips of dark from her shoulders to what must be the rise of her breasts. What lay between the fabric outlines could only be soft, creamy flesh. Was she freckled there, too?
“Beck?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I want to thank you for all you’ve done. Especially for what you did the other night, although it really wasn’t necessary.”
He stuck his head farther into the room. “What was that?”
“Throwing away the wine.”
“I didn’t need the wine. Anyway, that issue is over. Go to sleep. You needn’t worry about anything. I’m here if you need me.”
“Still sticking like glue,” she whispered on a chuckle, settling under the covers.
He could hear her voice already thickening with sleep. “You betcha,” he whispered as he closed the door softly behind him. Downstairs, he again checked the windows and the alarm system. Anything to kill a few more minutes. Television no longer interested him. He climbed the stairs and unable to resist, he stopped outside her bedroom door, but this time, he kept his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
He put an ear close to the door. No sounds came from the other side. His hands itched to touch the knob, to give it a turn, and to ease himself inside the room. He quashed the urge, crossed the hall, and entered the room that was his for the night. Three more weeks. He still had three long weeks before he’d either make love to her or not.
Three more weeks.
Then he’d find out if he was a winner or a loser.
Chapter Ten
The next morning, after a breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon which she’d prepared while Beck followed her around the kitchen doing cleanup, Alex retired to the den to organize her notes from the past week. The task took her less than half an hour since she kept things organized as she went along. When the organization was finished, she spent the rest of the morning on researching the legendary Native American couple. Once, when Beck came in, she looked up briefly but went quickly back to her notes, only to discover she’d lost her focus.
She had a hard time concentrating with him sitting in the chair she would always think of as his from now on, his fingers thumbing through her latest issue of an archaeology magazine.
From time to time, he looked up and watched her for a while.
She pretended not to notice, when what she wanted to do was run to him, jump into his lap, and finish what they’d started the night before. Go figure. Everything she had blocked out for the past five years returned in just one, short week. Feelings, desires, and fears all bundled into one stomach-knotting, heart-pounding sensation. All of them deep and powerful.
All of them centered on this big, beautiful, brown-eyed almost-stranger she expected to exit her life as quickly as he entered, once the strange sense of responsibility he felt had finally been satisfied.
Her eyes needed a rest, but she didn’t dare look up without a conscious plan to focus them someplace other than where she’d like them to be. She reached for the calendar on her desk and removed the pages of dates already passed. Like a clap of thunder, she was suddenly struck by the realization that less than three weeks remained to the last day of the month.
When that day arrived, so many things would change. So many decisions would have to be made. So much of the past would have to be examined.
“Any new developments?” Beck asked from across the room.
His question broke into her thoughts. “A few, and thankfully all of them shoring up my original premise. Jeremy will love it, not to mention the descendants of the tribe and the Bureau of Indian Affairs who’ll add them to their other documentation.” She stood and stretched then walked around the desk.
Beck set aside the magazine, stood, and started across the room.
He looked like he belonged here, and she couldn’t imagine a time when he hadn’t been.
They both reached the front of the desk at the same moment.
Beck frowned. “Who’s Jeremy?”
“A friend and colleague. The one I was supposed to spend the summer with.”
“How well do you know him?”
Eyes wide, she jerked back her head. “Very well. Why?”
“Just curious.” He picked up the photo of her and her parents from the desk but put it down a second later without having looked closely. “Do you usually spend that much time with someone you work with?”
The biting edge to his words was impossible to ignore. “Not as much as I’d like. Especially where Jeremy’s concerned. He’s special.”
A deep frown creased Beck’s brow. “How so?”
“How so, what?”
“You said he was special.”
“Oh.” She remembered a memo she needed to make for future reference, walked back behind the desk, and scribbled a quick reminder on a pad. Without looking up, she said, “Jeremy’s a brilliant forensic anthropologist. One of the best in the country. He’s also one of the best, if not the best, scholar of Southeastern Native American culture. That’s why I can’t wait to share what I’ve discovered so far. I really should have called him already.”
“What time is that meeting today?”
His gruff tone was reminiscent of the confrontational stance he had taken on their first encounter. She bit back an equally gruff answer and forced herself to keep an even voice. “Two o’clock. We’ve plenty of time. Are you sure you still want to go?”
“I don’t recall ever saying I wanted to. Just that I would,” he snapped.
Something was irritating him. She was sure she knew what it was. “You know,” she said, “that prowler my neighbor saw might have had nothing to do with all the other things that have happened. I received a copy of the police report and doubt this incident is connected.”
“Maybe.” He shifted from one leg to the other.
“You seem restless. Probably from baby-sitting me. You should go out for a while by yourself. I promise I won’t run off.”
He looked at her, shook hi
s head a couple of times, picked up another magazine, and returned to the chair. “You want lunch before or after the meeting?”
While he sounded less irritable, he still sounded far from happy. He clearly wouldn’t change his mind about leaving her. As the old saying went, if she couldn’t beat him, she may as well join him. “After is good for me. How about you?”
“After is good for me, too.” He hiked up the magazine to cover the bottom part of his face and lowered his head.
She got the message. End of conversation. After a trip to the kitchen for a glass of water, Alex returned to the desk to continue her work. Beck kept up the silent treatment until they were in the truck two hours later and pulled off the main highway onto a narrow road.
“How long do these meetings last?” he asked.
“Usually a couple of hours,” Alex replied as she turned into the parking lot of the church where the weekly meetings were held. A dozen cars were already parked on either side of the simple but well-maintained white brick building. “But no one’s forced to stay. Some people stay just a few minutes and others stay longer, depending on their circumstances. Open meetings are meant to be relaxed and less focused than closed ones.”
Beck turned to face her. “Open meetings?”
“On the second Saturday of every month, we have a meeting open to the general public. That’s when friends, family, or people thinking about kicking the habit come to get a lay of the land, so to speak. On the other Saturdays, only those still addicted and those recovering are allowed.” She studied his reaction to her explanation. He seemed interested. “Of course, anonymity is always expected from everyone regardless of the type of meeting, since the privacy of the individual is sacred.”
They exited the car together, and once they were inside, she saw a few of her closer acquaintances, waved, then took Beck’s hand and brought him over to the group. After the introductions were completed, she went to get coffee for them both.
When she returned, Beck was deep in conversation with a man she knew was also in the construction business, so she handed Beck the coffee, gave him an approving smile, and left to find another group with which to spend a few minutes.
An hour later, they pulled up to the restaurant for lunch when Beck’s cell phone rang.
He eased the truck into an open parking space with one hand and with the other unclipped the phone from his belt. After he cut the engine, he answered the call and fell silent.
The voice on the other end came through loud but indistinct.
Beck darted a glance at Alex.
She looked away. She couldn’t make out a word that was said, but without a doubt a woman was on the other end of the line. A woman who didn’t sound too happy.
Beck pressed his mouth as close to the phone as possible, his gaze fastened on his side window. “Let me call you later.”
Alex alternated between getting out of the car and giving him privacy, or staying and pretending to be unconcerned with the conversation. She looked sideways at Beck, one hand already on the door handle. “I’ll meet you inside,” she mouthed, in an attempt to appear politely uninterested.
Beck nodded, averting his gaze.
A swell of satisfaction filled her chest at his discomfort, although a twinge of guilt quickly replaced the satisfied feeling. He had a right to privacy.
Lowering the phone, he covered the mouthpiece with his free hand. “I won’t be long.”
“Take your time.” She opened the door, slid off the seat, and lowered herself to the ground. The door wasn’t yet closed and the phone not yet back to Beck’s ear when the garbled chatter from the other end of the line resumed.
“I know today is Saturday,” he interrupted. “I’ve been busy…”
The rest of what he said was lost as she stepped away from the truck and hurried toward the entrance to the restaurant. Who Beck was talking to was none of her business. He no doubt had a woman in his life. And he’d probably left her stranded while he convinced himself he had an obligation to see to poor Alex’s safety.
She didn’t need a caretaker, damn it. She could take care of herself. And as soon as they returned home, she’d put an end to this charade and send him back to the pack of females that were probably part of his harem. She’d gotten along just fine before she met Becker St. Romaine, and she’d get along just as well when he was gone.
****
Beck stepped inside the restaurant and found Alex waiting near the hostess’s podium.
As soon as Alex saw him, she smiled and nodded to the hostess who promptly directed them to a booth near the back of the room. The best place to be seated, since the back of the restaurant was much quieter and the air less heavy with the smell of food.
“Sorry about that,” Beck opened the menu the hostess left.
“About what?”
He cocked his head in the direction of the window behind them. “The phone call. Just someone I forgot to contact.”
“No problem,” she assured him.
Beck ignored her curt response and scanned the menu without interest. What he ate wasn’t important. Any old steak would do. He’d choose one when the waitress came for their order. He closed the menu and laid it on the table. While they drove, he’d done some deep thinking, and he wanted to get Alex’s feelings on his conclusion without scaring the hell out of her. “I think”—he hurried on before he changed his mind—“since we don’t have Ned to worry about, maybe we should let the police know about your car and the prowler.”
She looked away from the menu and stared in silence for a few moments. “I know. I was thinking the very same thing.” She snapped the menu closed and laid it on the table.
“Since each of the incidents is isolated and in different states, do you really think the police will give them any real credence?”
“You’ve got a point.”
The waitress came by just then to take their drink orders. Alex ordered ice tea, and he did the same.
“Wouldn’t you prefer a glass of wine, or maybe a beer?” Alex said quickly before the waitress left.
Would he ever. But he felt awkward ordering alcohol knowing her problem. “Tea will be fine,” he said.
Alex waited until the waitress was several tables away before she spoke. “I really would prefer you have whatever refreshment you want. I’ve gone beyond being tempted by someone enjoying a drink.”
He was certain she had, but suddenly not having a glass of wine or a bottle of beer wasn’t so much of a sacrifice. Not when he was with her. She went to his head like the finest bourbon. Damned if he didn’t wish the feeling weren’t so. He still wanted her and still planned to have her. But he also still planned not to let himself get too close emotionally.
The waitress arrived with their teas.
They added sugar and lemon in silence.
Alex stirred her tea. “I’ve probably kept you from your usual Saturday routine. If I did inform the police of the other incidents, they might spend a little time on patrol tonight if you have some place to go.”
So, that was it. Female instinct probably told her he was speaking to a woman on the phone. Covering her hand on the table, he gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m not leaving, so let’s not spend good conversation time on something that’s a lost cause. I have no place to go tonight except where you go. Case closed.”
He kept his hand pressed to hers. “Now, tomorrow is something else. Unless you have a special reason for staying here, maybe we could leave late morning or early afternoon. I have a few things to attend to back home. Of course, first I need to find a safe place to stash you for a couple of hours while I’m gone.”
She let out a sound between a whistle and a hiss. “Now, that suggestion is darn ridiculous. Let’s be rational about this. If we look at everything that’s happened, I’ve never been in any real danger. Even that car problem caused me nothing more than a giant inconvenience.”
He leaned forward. “What about the prowler at the cabin and the one here at your home? D
on’t tell me you haven’t taken them seriously. I had to stay with you the other night, remember? If I hadn’t, you’d have been in as big a mess as you were the night before when you never slept.”
She clamped her lips together and stared at him in silence.
The waitress arrived and set a basket of hot rolls on the table.
They both drew in a deep whiff of the luscious aroma and made a grab for a roll at the same time. The laugh they shared was the first either had in a long time. After he’d practically drowned a roll in butter, Beck laid his knife on the plate and set down the roll beside it. “I have to do something tomorrow that can’t wait. Family business.” He picked up the roll and was about to take a bite when she lowered her gaze.
“I’m sure it can’t.”
“So help me, I’m telling the truth. But even if I wasn’t, I would still be here. You may not think all of this is serious, but I sure as hell do. And until this puzzle is solved…”
“I know. You’re sticking to me like glue.”
“Like very strong glue.”
“Where do you propose I stay while you take care of family business?”
A few seconds passed.
“I have an idea. If you agree, that is.”
She raised her head and met his gaze. “So, all of a sudden I have a say in all of this?”
He shook his head. “Don’t be smart. My grandmother lives not far from where I’m going. You’ll like her. The two of you should get along great. Vinegar and salt.”
She lifted a brow. “Oh. Which of us is which?”
“Haven’t decided. Might not even make a difference. You could probably trade off very easily.”
She spread butter on her roll. “I suppose I should be insulted. I would be if I hadn’t heard your fondness for your grandmother in your voice when you mentioned her.”
“True grit was coined for her, I’m sure.”
“I suppose that makes me gritty, too.”
He waved to the waitress who was already heading his way. “Babe, I’m too hungry now to keep up this tiresome conversation, so I say we order, eat, and get the hell out of here.” She never gave him any more back talk for the rest of their stay. When the meal was over and they headed to the truck, he turned to her. “What’s next? A movie or a quiet evening at home?”
Unearthed Page 12