Unearthed

by Ann B. Morris

  He’d made three calls to her cell phone since he’d left her that morning. Twice, he connected, but he hadn’t reached her the last time more than two hours ago. Not reaching her pissed him off, but he supposed she was someplace where calls would be an inconvenience, like at the beauty parlor.

  Again, he unclipped the phone from his belt and punched in her number, cursing under his breath when she still didn’t answer. He ended the call and tried her home phone, but he got the answering machine, the same as when he’d called earlier. He left a short message that he’d be at the condo soon and hung up, turning up the curses a notch before he reclipped the phone.

  Another quick glance at the dashboard dragged his spirits lower. The drive would take another hour before he reached Alex’s condo. He drew in an impatient breath and let it out noisily. He felt like he’d been on the road for days, instead of forty-five minutes.

  He made a conscious effort to calm down by deliberately slowing his breathing. His agitation over not reaching Alex was unwarranted. The odds of anything happening when outside was as bright as daylight were little or none. Still, he didn’t like even those odds. The thought anything might come even remotely close to harming her bothered him. Commitment or not, she was his responsibility as long as they remained together. He fully intended to remain with her as long as possible.

  He switched the radio station from easy listening to one that played hard rock. Hard rock was his favorite station whenever he was in the truck. That easy listening stuff took over his airwaves since Alex became a frequent passenger.

  Biting back a curse, he turned back the radio dial to easy listening. The soft music made him feel like Alex was close by, and he needed that extra bit of reassurance just now. He didn’t feel any calmer though, so he let the bit-back curse fly and entered a tug of war with his conscience over whether or not he was justified in breaking the speed limit by ten, twenty, or even thirty miles. His stomach churned and his insides ached as though bits of glass gouged them.

  He rolled down the window and let the wind take away his breath. But the action did nothing to alleviate his tension. Angry with himself, he made up his mind to resume the devil-may-care attitude he’d enjoyed before Alexandra Kingsley came into his life, and he’d begin right this minute.

  Hah. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t go five minutes without thinking of her. If he couldn’t bear to be apart for less than a day, how would he last for a lifetime?

  The question needled him the rest of the way to Alex’s house. When he pulled into a parking place close to her car, he forgot all the worry she’d caused him or the anger he’d felt when he couldn’t reach her. Now, all he could think about was spending a little worry-free, between-the-sheets time together. He was already mentally undressing her when he slipped the key in the lock and opened the front door.

  The smell of food was the first thing his senses detected, followed quickly by the sound of running water. He stopped to listen for a second, letting the soothing refrains of a love song from Alex’s favorite radio station wash over him as he imagined the feel of her mouth yielding under his. “I’m back, babe,” he called in a voice already thickening with desire. He planned to kiss her until whatever plans she had for tempting him with the heavenly smells from the kitchen were literally put on a back burner. He was just about to rush into the kitchen, prepared to take her on the kitchen table when the door swung open.

  A six-foot plus linebacker-type rushed forward—one hand holding a spoon, and the other sliding quickly down the side of his red sauce-splattered apron. “You must be Beck.” The stranger extended his now-presentable hand.

  Beck stopped short, looking left to right over the stranger’s shoulder, expecting to see Alex any second. When she didn’t appear, the vision of her pinned under him on the kitchen table disappeared as quickly as a desert mirage. “Who the hell are you?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Where’s Alex?” Beck demanded on the heels of his previous, still-unanswered question. Alex’s whereabouts was a hell of lot more important than the identity of some guy who was way too familiar with her kitchen. “Her car’s out front,” Beck pointed out, just in case this guy had a trick up his sleeve to pull the wool over his eyes.

  “She’s upstairs lying down. I’m Jeremy Franklin, an old friend presently living in Arkansas.”

  So, this guy was who Alex was going out of town to work with. Reluctantly, he took Jeremy’s hand, gave it a quick, brisk shake, and started for the stairs.

  Jeremy grabbed him by the sleeve. “Come in the kitchen and give me a hand for a few minutes. Alex needs a little more time alone. She’s only been home a few minutes.”

  Beck brushed the hand from his arm and again pivoted toward the stairs. “Like hell she needs to be alone.” Restrained again, this time with a little more force, Beck clenched his fist, ready to deliver a punch. He didn’t give a shit who this guy was—he would see Alex.

  Jeremy laughed. “Alex warned me about your quick temper and not-so-delicate language. She made me promise not to let them turn me off.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “Come with me while I stir the gravy. She wasn’t expecting you this early. She’s had a rough day on top of an unexpected phone call that really upset her.”

  Beck shook free of Jeremy’s grip and locked his fingers around the other guy’s wrist. “All the more reason she needs me.” He glowered at his adversary. “I wouldn’t try holding me back again,” he warned, his voice low in his throat.

  Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. “Do you care for Alex at all, or is she just a roll in the hay? Because if you’re only out for what you can get from her, you’ll have to fight me to get to those stairs, buddy. I may not talk as tough as you, but believe me, where Alex is concerned, I’m tougher than Patton.”

  The unexpected rejoinder momentarily stopped Beck short, but when he recovered, his first inclination was to let his anger loose and sock the son of a bitch in the jaw. Somehow, he reined in his anger when the better part of his conscience reared its level head and reminded him Alex was his first concern. If this Jeremy person believed she needed rest, maybe, just maybe, he should take the well-intentioned advice and give her some privacy for a little while. He loosened his grip on Jeremy’s wrist. “Sorry. I’m just anxious to see Alex. I’ve been worried about her all day, and when I couldn’t reach her earlier—”

  Jeremy clapped Beck on the shoulder. “No need to explain. Come have a cup of coffee while I finish dinner. I put on a fresh pot just before Alex went upstairs. She said you’d probably need some when you got here.”

  Somewhat calmer than a few minutes earlier, Beck followed Jeremy into the kitchen.

  He waved the spoon in the direction of the kitchen table. “Go on. Take a load off while I put the finishing touches to the sauce.” He reached into a cabinet and took down two mugs. “How do you take it? I’m betting straight up.”

  Beck grinned. “You got it. Strong and black.” He curled his fingers around the mug Jeremy handed him, keeping his sight trained on the other man as he turned back to the counter for the other mug.

  They fell silent, Jeremy busy at the stove, Beck at the table mutely studying the plain white ceramic mug in his hand. When Jeremy began whistling to a tune on the radio, seemingly indifferent to Beck’s presence, Beck could no longer contain his curiosity. “When I left this morning, Alex didn’t mention your visit.”

  “I was supposed to fly in early tomorrow morning for the funeral. I came earlier to surprise her. I had the sauce on the stove for an hour by the time she got home.”

  Beck pulled in a quick breath. “You got here before she did?”

  “Yep. In case you’re wondering, I didn’t break in. Alex and I have been exchanging keys forever.”

  That little announcement took some of the wind from Beck’s sails, but he’d be damned if he’d let on that it did. “The woman who died, she was a friend of yours, too?”

  “Ah.” Jeremy sighed. “Evelyn French was more than just a friend to Alex
and me. Not only was she our mentor in graduate school, but hers was the shoulder we leaned on whenever we were afraid of losing the battle with our demons.”

  Beck’s fingers gripped the mug. “I don’t understand.”

  “Evelyn French was a recovering alcoholic. She’d been clean twenty years by the time Alex and I met her. We were both drinking too much, even in graduate school, and I was battling drugs, besides. Evelyn was our rock. She picked us up more times than I can remember, dusted us off, and pointed us once again to the path of our future. Alex was closer to her than I was. I knew she’d be taking her death hard. I wanted to be here in case she needed me.”

  Something akin to jealousy crawled under Beck’s skin, even though he fought the unpleasant emotion. That he could resent someone going out of their way to help Alex made him feel lousy. But the truth was, he wanted her to need only him, and that situation obviously wasn’t the case. Despite the tangle of emotions knotting inside him, he had to know. “How long have you and Alex been friends?”

  Jeremy replaced the lid on the pot of bubbling sauce just as the buzzer went off on the stove. He reached for the colander on the counter, set it in the sink, and grabbed two thick pot holders. He waited until the steam from the pasta being cautiously emptied into the colander had all but vanished before he answered. “Since our junior year in college.”

  Beck couldn’t have kept from asking the inevitable next question any more than he could have kept himself from taking the next breath. “Were you and Alex…were the two of you….”

  Jeremy turned toward him, a wide grin across his face. “I wondered how long you would take to ask that question. You waited about thirty seconds longer than I figured.” He plopped down in the chair across from Beck and studied him for a few moments. “Alex and I were never lovers, if that’s what’s bothering you. We were too close for that. Having sex would have been almost incestuous, like sleeping with my sister. Although many nights we fell asleep in each other’s arms.”

  Jeremy paused and briefly closed his eyes before he continued. “We had some rough times over the years. We had broken hearts and broken dreams. Most of the time all we had was each other to hold on to.” He stared at Beck for a moment then let his face relax into a loose smile.

  “We didn’t have too much time to talk after Alex got home. But she did tell me you know about her drinking problem. She told me what you did with the wine you bought. Your action touched her deeply. But it wasn’t necessary, you know. Part of recovery is learning to live in the real world.” He took in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “In the real world, people drink—and do drugs.”

  In the real world, people fall in love. Was that happening to him? Was that why, despite the fact he could really like this guy, he squirmed with jealousy because Jeremy acted as Alex’s protector instead of him?

  The floor above them creaked, and they both looked up to the ceiling. A wave of impatience, mixed with the envy that had never left him, washed over Beck, and he had to exercise unprecedented self-control not to dash out of the room and up the stairs.

  “Give her just a few more minutes,” Jeremy said.

  Beck leaned closer. “This phone call that upset her—is it something I should know about before I see her?”

  “Only that the call was from her ex. I’m going out on a limb here, assuming you know about Bill. I know you and Alex have only recently started seeing each other, but it isn’t like her to hide important details.”

  “I know she has an ex, but she never really spoke about him.”

  “Probably because he’s not worth the effort,” Jeremy said. “Once a sack of shit, always a sack of shit, in my opinion.” He hauled his bulk out of the chair and headed back toward the stove.

  So, her ex had treated her badly. How badly? One part of him didn’t want to know she had ever been hurt, but another part wanted to know so that if he ever came face to face with the son of a bitch he’d be ready to rearrange his nose.

  Jeremy took two spoons from the kitchen drawer, dipped one in the sauce, and handed it to Beck then did the same for himself. They each tasted the sample of Jeremy’s culinary endeavor.

  Beck gave it a thumbs-up. “Great stuff. Where’d you learn to cook?”

  “In the apartment Alex and I shared during grad school.”

  Beck recalled the superhuman effort he’d recently exerted with regard to Jeremy and his relationship to Alex and kept his mouth closed. Even if he’d been handed a line about how close the two of them were, the fact was none of his business. He had no claim on Alex. In their no-commitment relationship, neither party had any claim on the other’s past or future. Theirs was an in-the-present promise only.

  Jeremy sat opposite Beck at the table. “We’d have friends over most Saturday nights for supper and group studying. Alex and I alternated the cooking duties each week. Meatballs and spaghetti soon became everyone’s favorite. Eventually, a friendly rivalry developed between us. Each week our friends would rank that week’s sauce against the previous week’s.”

  Beck remembered his deduction about Alex’s cooking talents from the way she decorated her kitchen. “Who turned out to be the winner?”

  Jeremy shrugged. “We’re still doing battle over that one. We’ll let you be the judge. Next time we’re all together, we’ll have Alex do the honors. Of course, if we wait too long, you’ll have to test those results in Arkansas.”

  Beck’s stomach plummeted. Seeing Jeremy in the flesh put Alex’s planned trip to Arkansas in a whole new light. “Has she had any word on a replacement yet?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “Not that I know of. But even if she can’t make it to Arkansas this summer, there's always next year. We should be ready to start our business by then.”

  “Business?”

  “She probably hasn’t had time to mention the plans we’ve had since graduate school. We would have implemented them sooner, if it weren’t for—”

  Beck waited. When nothing more was forthcoming, he came right out and asked directly, “If it weren’t for what?”

  “Man, this circumstance is hard to talk about. Whenever I think of what Alex has yet to face, I can only imagine the pain she has already suffered all these years, just standing by waiting for word that her child is.…”

  The air left Beck’s lungs in a painful rush. “Child? I thought her child was dead.”

  “I’m sorry, fella. Sometimes, my mouth overrides my brain. I shouldn’t have said anything about that.” He rose quickly from the table. “Will you promise me you won’t breathe a word of what I’ve let slip until Alex is ready to tell you herself? Please? For her sake?”

  Beck closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated on clearing his mind and controlling his breathing. His head ached as though someone had just landed a punch and he was reeling. But he was steady enough to know what he had to do. He pushed back from the table and stood.

  “You have my word. I wouldn’t deliberately hurt Alex for all the money in the world. But I’m going up to see her now.” He started for the door, stopped after a couple of steps, turned and threw Jeremy a defiant look. “Do I have to deck you first?”

  “Nobody will get decked, at least not until I’ve had supper,” Alex said from the doorway.

  Jeremy looked at his watch. “You haven’t been resting very long. I hope we didn’t disturb you.”

  Shaking her head, Alex stepped into the kitchen.

  Beck came forward to meet her, opening his arms as he approached. When she settled herself against him, the gesture seemed the most natural thing in the world. The kiss that followed felt natural, too, and long overdue. They needed to make up for the long day apart.

  Across the room, Jeremy cleared his throat. “Excuse me for interrupting, folks, but sauce clings much better to spaghetti when the pasta’s warm.”

  Beck didn’t want to stop, but he did, not only out of courtesy to Alex’s friend, but also because he’d already become much too aroused. Slowly, he unwound his arms.
He winked. “Jeremy said I have to judge the meatball contest between you two, and you wouldn’t want to have an unfair advantage when I taste yours, would you?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” She moved to take a seat at the kitchen table.

  Jeremy took down plates from the cabinet while Beck did as Jeremy asked and filled their glasses with iced tea from the pitcher on the table.

  Scraps of the bombshell Jeremy dropped just a few minutes earlier crept into Beck’s thoughts, but he forced them aside. Alex looked tired and somewhat distracted, but other than that, she seemed fine.

  That she had secrets he didn’t know about still nagged at him, but her enthusiasm, as she shared with them the excitement her discovery generated, was contagious. What she unearthed made a huge impact in both the archaeological and Native American communities. She seemed genuinely amazed by all the attention she received that day, and he became as wrapped up in her outpourings as she and Jeremy were. His chest swelled with pride as he listened.

  They would be alone all night, he told himself reassuringly whenever his thoughts strayed from the topic at hand to the jealousy that pricked him. Anything she wanted him to know, she could tell him then.

  The three talked through dinner and the kitchen clean-up. After their second cup of coffee, Jeremy slapped both palms on the table and pushed himself from his chair. “Both of you have had one hell of day, and I’ve been up since before dawn. I say we call it a night and meet in the morning for breakfast. I’ll do the honors.”

  Jeremy was obviously aware of the heated looks he and Alex had exchanged the past half-hour. The guy had class, Beck admitted to himself.

  “I’ll be up a little later, after I catch a few minutes of the news,” Jeremy called up after Alex and Beck as they climbed the stairs.