“Perhaps you could ask Amara.”
Horrified, she looked up at his face. He would abandon her at a time like this?
He laughed at her.
Her desperation for him amused him, she realized. It wasn’t smart to give him so much power, but tonight she didn’t have the strength for anything else. “All right, I admit I want you to stay, not Amara. Not anyone else. Are you happy now? I need you. ... But even you have to admit it would be incredibly foolish to have sex in this state of mind.”
His eyes widened. “Who said anything about having sex?”
“You’ve hinted around about it a thousand times.”
“I suppose I have, but it never felt like we were discussing it ... until now.”
Ugh, she’d misinterpreted things after all. Extricating herself from his arms, she covered her eyes. “Oh, of course you’re not serious about it. What a fool I’m making of myself.”
He hesitated, and she grew more embarrassed by the second. Finally, he said, “I would protest that I’m serious, but if it comes to proving it, well, you’re painting us into a corner.”
She uncovered her eyes to look at him.
He stood grinning at her by the end of her bed in his boxers – looking delectable, frankly. He was a guy in his twenties, and she wasn’t completely past her prime. So, yes, he would be open to the idea of sex.
Instant heat converged between her thighs. It would be very easy to push him down on the bed and climb on top of him. Physically, she was ready. Mentally, she was a mess.
She pressed her fingertips into her forehead. “That damned purple beer.”
His expression sobered. “Winnie, I’m here now as your friend, even if you don’t seem to know it.”
She chose her words carefully, wary of saying something else stupid. “I appreciate it.”
“My pleasure. Now, did I see a cot in your closet when we were checking for monsters?” He opened the door then dragged out a foldable steel-framed bed, already made up with sheets.
She plopped down on her own bed, frustrated. “You’re a true gentleman. I wish I could tell you everything I’m thinking right now, but I can’t.”
Without looking at her, he set up the cot. “Thank goodness for your discretion.”
She leaned back on her elbows and sighed. She had to think about something else. “Did you learn anything online about the tremor?
“No. That is, there haven’t been any significant tremors in the area.” He got a pillow and blanket from the closet and tossed them on the cot. “A meteor fell nearby, in Bellona, but it wasn’t big enough to cause a tremor.”
“In Bellona?” A connection clicked in her brain. She sprang back up into a sitting position. “Bellona is the goddess of war, isn’t she?”
“Yes.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Narrowing his eyes, he sat down on the cot. “Interestingly, at her temple in Ostia, she seems to have been worshiped as Magna Mater – the Great Mother.”
Excitement shot through her. “Holy cow. Bellona is our goddess. She’s sending us signs.”
He laughed. “You know another thing not good to do on hallucinogens? Theorize.”
“Oh.” So, he thought her revelation was a pink elephant conjured up by purple beer. When she reconsidered it, her shoulders sagged. She lay back down. “I guess you’re right.”
“Would it bother you if I looked at your father’s journal for a while?”
“What? Oh.” Strangely, in her state of mind, she didn’t have it in her to be angry at her father. “Go ahead.”
He took the book from where it still lay on the bed and settled back in the cot, opening to the first page.
While he examined the journal, her thoughts drifted back to her reaction to it the night before. Tonight, she felt distant from those emotions, as if the experience had happened to someone else.
She swung around toward the foot of the bed and lay on her stomach, watching him page through the book. “How naïve I was, spending two decades wishing my father had the chance to finish his work.”
“He didn’t have to finish it. You’re finishing it for him.”
“Chaz, he was a treasure-hunter.”
He looked up at her. “But he raised a classicist. Indirectly, your work is his legacy. Of course, you get credit for the hard part.”
She laughed. “Then he was fortunate to have me for a daughter.”
“Yes, he was.” His gaze rested on hers, serious, full of meaning.
“Kiss me,” she heard herself say before the words even formed in her brain.
He stared at her for a long moment, then smiled faintly and looked back down at the journal. “Tomorrow.”
She searched his averted face, trying to decide whether to feel rejected or relieved. “Promise?” she asked, her voice coming out weak, cracking with yearning.
“Yes.” He didn’t look at her. “Just make sure you don’t get drugged again, because I won’t accept that excuse a second time.”
A wave of overwhelming feeling for him made her lightheaded. He was funny and smart and shared so many common interests with her – not a minor thing, considering how weird her interests were. She adored him.
Sighing, she rolled back to the head of the bed and got under the covers. “It’s going to be a long night.”
“Yes, it is.”
And it was. Whenever she shut her eyes, colors swirled behind her lids. That freaked her out, and several times she couldn’t resist asking him if he was still awake. A few words from him calmed her each time, but she still didn’t feel sleepy.
Eventually, she heard him breathing steadily and didn’t want to disturb him anymore. She noticed she’d left the bathroom light on, but she didn’t want to go in there, and the thin stream of light coming into the bedroom lent her some security. She stared at the ceiling, overly aware of Chaz’s presence, fantasizing about him getting into her bed during the night. If he did, she would be all over him.
But he didn’t.
At last, she got so tired that she closed her eyes, despite the circus of colorful patterns playing on her retinas. If she kept herself calm, the moving shapes weren’t scary. In fact, once she got used to them, watching them actually felt peaceful.
She dozed off-and-on until at some point she heard Chaz get up and go into the bathroom.
Instantly alert again, she sat up in bed. Since he was awake anyway, she decided to take the opportunity to stretch her legs. Getting out of bed, she peeked out the French doors to look for signs of dawn.
A faint violet glow in the eastern sky filled her with a sense of relief. Opening the doors, she stepped out on the balcony and breathed in the cool air, tinged with traces of spring blossoms. The experience filled her with euphoria.
“Winnie?” He joined her outside.
“Morning’s almost here ... finally.”
He moved up to the railing, gazing out at the sky. “Look – our goddess.”
She stepped up beside him and followed his line of vision to the horizon, where a bright celestial body stood out by itself. “You think our temple is dedicated to Venus?”
“Not necessarily, but in some ways, it doesn’t matter. We may call the morning star Venus, but she’s not the only goddess it’s been associated with. The Greeks tied the planet to Aphrodite. The Sumerians saw their goddess Inanna in it, and the Egyptians connected it with Isis.”
“I can see why ancient people viewed a planet that hangs so close to the sun as an important one. Besides the sun and moon, it’s the most brilliant light in the sky.” She stared at it a moment longer. “What a relief to see an omen that night is over.”
“She’s smiling on us.”
She stole a look at his profile, and a charge of happiness shot through her. Maybe the drug still hadn’t completely worn off, but instead of her usual shame and worry about her attraction to him, she felt content. Choosing her words cautiously, she said, “It does feel like it. I must still be under the influence.”
�
��Not much, if at all, at this point. Do you still see colors when you close your eyes?”
She tested it and shook her head, grinning. “What a relief.”
“Good. I should go then.” He turned toward the doors. “When we see each other later, you’ll have no doubts left about being clear-headed.”
Her smile vanished. Part of her couldn’t stand for the wild night to end, couldn’t stand to let him go.
Following him inside, she watched with an ache inside her while he folded the blanket he’d used. What if, once alone in his room, when he had time to think, he came to his senses and didn’t want anything else to do with her? Maybe that would be the best thing for both of them, but she hated the thought of it.
He headed for the door, looking back at her. “Between the collapse and the hallucinations, we haven’t even had a chance to think about the forged letters. At least, I haven’t. Have you?”
The reminder gave her a shock. She had totally forgotten about them – forgotten that she suspected him, that she hadn’t been able to come up with any other feasible suspect.
But if he’d done it, why would he bring it up now instead of avoiding the subject?
She shook her head.
“We’ll talk at breakfast.” He gave her a peck of a kiss, right on the lips, and crossed the hall before she could respond one way or another.
Her lips tingled. She put her hand up to her mouth. Was that the kiss he’d promised her? She hoped not, even though it might be best if it were.
From her doorway, she watched him close his door behind him.
At once, she missed him. In a few days, they would be home again, and they’d go back to their normal routines. The romance of Italy would drift into the past. For all she knew, she might not even see him again until the fall semester. There might well never be another night when the stars aligned perfectly for them to give into the attraction between them – whatever that attraction was worth.
Would she actually end up regretting that she hadn’t slept with her teaching assistant in this heady setting?
Who was she kidding? She already did.
DICIASSETTE
WINNIE COULD HAVE gone back to sleep for an hour, but obsessive thoughts about everything that had happened lately – and what might happen next – kept her awake.
Despite the lack of rest, when the alarm went off, she felt alert and invigorated. The fact that she felt so good confirmed for her that she’d been under the influence of something besides alcohol. If alcohol alone had messed her up like that, she would have felt awful now.
As she got out of bed, her phone buzzed with an e-mail. She snatched it up, hoping to hear from Chaz. The sender turned out to be Dunk. Unusual. She opened up the message and saw that it addressed the whole team.
“Dom requests that we all meet over breakfast in the dining room at 7:30,” it read. “Regular cast members must attend, and I’d like to see everyone there. Don’t be late. (Jack, this means you.)”
Uh oh. Obviously, the meeting had to do with the collapse. She hoped Domenico didn’t want to end the excavation early. Though “The Dig” must have had a contract with him, such a shrewd businessman would have included a clause that allowed him to kick them off his property under certain circumstances or “acts of God.”
What about acts of goddesses, though?
Silly thought. Shaking her head to herself, she closed the e-mail and stripped off her nightclothes. A little more than half-an-hour to get ready. She had to hurry.
In the bathroom, Madonna di Oropa had her eyes shut again, but Winnie didn’t quite feel comfortable with her. Before she got into the shower, she turned the statuette to face the wall.
Between concerns about the excavation being called off and replaying recent events in her mind, she barely paid attention to her routine. One tantalizing image kept popping up to blot out the others: Chaz in his boxers in her room.
What was she going to do? The intensity of her attraction to him seemed to be increasing exponentially. He didn’t act as though he’d forged the letters, but whether he had or not, she had to start staying away from him or ...
Or what? As long as she was in a position of authority over him, she couldn’t justify getting involved. Was she willing to sacrifice her job at Growden to be with a guy a decade younger than her? He couldn’t be serious enough about her to warrant such a drastic move. Even if he did want a serious relationship, was there any way it could work? And what if he had forged the letters? How would she deal with that?
She had a lot to think about.
As distracted as she was, she got dressed quickly, anxious to find out what Domenico had to say. When she entered the dining room, only Dunk and Amara had arrived. They both sat at the table, staring into space as they ate pastries and drank coffee.
“Buon giorno,” Amara said absently. “Isn’t Chaz up yet?”
Winnie froze for an instant. Of course Amara figured they were sleeping together, but her tone didn’t sound judgmental. Whatever. She forced herself to continue to the sideboard. “I’m not sure.”
The man in question showed up a minute later, showered and fresh-faced. As soon as he walked in, he looked at her and grinned. His expression was warm and conspiratorial.
I guess he hasn’t completely come to his senses yet, she thought, happy in spite of herself. She smiled back and let her gaze hover on him, too pleased to worry about her feelings for him showing. She did, however, try not to stare while he got his food and then sat down beside her.
Jack showed up next – on time, albeit looking harried.
After him, Domenico and Enza entered, both of their faces somber.
Of the main cast, only Farber and Father Giampiero were late. Had they overslept – or not been invited? She couldn’t remember seeing their names on Dunk’s e-mail.
On his way to the sideboard, Domenico nodded to the rest of the group. “Good morning, everyone.” His tone was brusque.
A web of tension tightened around the room. Winnie tried to think of a casual comment to lighten the mood, but her mind failed her.
Dunk fidgeted in his chair, watching the Rentinos while they got their food.
Enza noticed his agitation and tried to smile at him, but her taut facial muscles formed more of a grimace.
He didn’t even return that.
Once the pair sat down, Domenico cleared his throat. “Everyone important is here. I won’t keep you on pins, as you English say, but get directly to the point. As you no doubt realize, after last night’s collapse, the temple must be closed down.”
“No!” Dunk jumped up, his napkin falling to the floor. “Please, Dom. My structural engineer is out there now reconstructing the bracing. He’ll have the wall stable again by the time we get out to the field.”
The Italian met his gaze squarely. “Your engineer never had the wall stable in the first place. I have just been out to the site and have spoken with him. I am not convinced he can ensure that no one will be injured. Safety comes first on my property.”
“Agreed,” Jack said. “Sit down, Dunk.”
His colleague resisted, then sank back down in his seat and stared at his plate. His big eyes reflected either anger or fear – maybe a mixture of both.
Enza turned to him with her trademarked pout. “I have debated with Papa all morning. I am afraid he is firm in his decision.”
Considering they still had a fantastic site to excavate without the temple, Winnie thought the princess and the TV presenter were playing the victim card a bit too freely. Trying to keep her tone neutral, she said, “There’s plenty of work to do in the other two trenches.”
“Right.” Jack bobbed a teabag in his cup. “I’ll assign more of the team to the lodging. The purgatorium is too small for additional people to work simultaneously, but during Winnie and Chaz’s lunch break, we can bring in paid laborers to speed progress.”
Dunk’s gaze shot to him. “But the temple is the central focus of the site.”
“How
do you reckon?” Jack removed the teabag and dumped a teaspoon of sugar in his cup. “The building has obviously been robbed out. We haven’t even been able to identify the deity that was worshiped there.”
“But the temple is the focus of the curse tablet,” Dunk said. “In the viewers’ eyes, that’s the big story here.”
“Absurd. If that’s all the viewers want to hear about, tell them the curse got us, and we had to stop digging in the temple. Perfect.”
Dunk shook his head. “It’s not enough. We’re running out of time, and we need something really big -- something with pizzazz, as the Italians say.”
“We don’t say pizzazz,” Enza said, looking sad about it.”
Domenico stood up. “I am sure you will find something satisfactory. Now, if you will, excuse me.” Taking his cup with him, he started toward the exit.
Embarrassed by Dunk’s behavior, Winnie called after him, “Domenico!”
He paused in the doorway and looked at her warily.
She gave him a tentative smile. “Thank you for allowing us to continue the excavation. This site is incomparable. For me, it is a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
A smile spread across his face. He nodded to her, then left the room.
Relieved that he’d accepted her thanks, she let out a long sigh. When she glanced at Chaz, though, he looked annoyed. Surely, he didn’t agree with Dunk. Or was it Enza who had his empathy?
As they walked outside, the others were preoccupied, so she pulled Chaz aside to try to gain insight. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head and wouldn’t meet her eye.
“You don’t think the temple is the only worthy trench here?”
“No.” He met her gaze, his mouth wry. “You know, if you’re so concerned about age differences, Rentino is fifteen years older than you.”
Her jaw dropped. He was jealous of her exchange with Domenico?
He promptly climbed in the car with the others, so she didn’t have time to respond, even if she’d known how.
The Five-Day Dig Page 17