Except that she was afraid to. It was one thing to decide on a fling with a celebrity that was guaranteed to end inside of a week. It was quite another thing to become involved with a real man—one who wanted a real relationship.
Because look what happened when she allowed that. Disaster. Or desertion. Or both.
She made a little sound halfway between a hiccup and a sob.
“Cate?” Hiccup. Sniffle. “Honey, what is it?” Deep breath. Wail. “Aw, come here.” Daniel gathered her into his arms and she caved into his hard chest and let the dam break.
The ugly truth was that she was “—just a coward—” she said incoherently into his T-shirt, and the whole damn conversation about “—groupies or stalkers or whatever—” was just an excuse because she was afraid, “—afraid, Daniel—” to get into relationships because the guy always said she wasn’t good enough and they “—always leave and I just know—” he’d leave, too, and if she gave her heart again she just “—couldn’t stand it!”
“Shhh,” he soothed, stroking her back while she cried and let the horrible, immature, embarrassing truth spill out of her.
God, it felt good to get it all out there at last. What she needed was a shot of courage, and maybe she could find it right here in his arms. After all, he hadn’t asked for her whole life, had he? He’d just asked for a chance. And if people like the mysterious Mrs. Baldwin were the exception rather than the rule, then maybe she could get past the whole dating-a-celebrity thing and the he’s-going-to-dump-me thing and actually have something real.
Look on the bright side. Maybe the next book will tank and he’ll go back to being a normal, everyday archaeologist.
She took a long, shaky breath and straightened her spine. He loosened his hold enough to slide his hands down her arms, and gripped her fingers. She’d always loved his hands. After these few days together, she could count the reasons why.
“Okay?” he asked, his sober gaze on hers.
She nodded.
“You’re not going to dump me on my head and take a bus to the airport?”
“No. But I sure wish we’d hear from Mr. Moreno’s mother.”
As if in answer, they heard the sound of a couple of vehicles pulling into the driveway below, and in a moment, Mr. Moreno knocked on the door of their room. When Cate opened it, he presented her with the neat stack of clothes.
“The berry stain on the white blouse will take a little more time,” he said apologetically. “Perhaps as late as this afternoon.”
“That’s okay.” She dug a card out of her bag and gave it to him. “Just send it to that address. I can live without it for the rest of the week.”
Amid a flurry of packing, apologies, credit-card receipts and a box lunch for the road courtesy of Dahlia Moreno, they got under way at last. Cate had never been so grateful for the push of the wind in her face and the vibration of an engine under her feet as Daniel gunned the Camaro up the ramp and onto the highway.
“Next time,” she said to Daniel, “I get to pick the hotel.”
He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean there’s going to be a next time? Other than the anonymous chain hotel with key cards for tonight, that is?”
She laid her hand on his knee and he covered it with his free one. “I think so. I don’t think I’m going to run away this time, Daniel.”
He squeezed her hand so hard her fingers were crushed together. Then he seemed to realize what he was doing and loosened his grip. “I’m glad. Even with the stalkers and fans and Jah-Redd?”
“I won’t lie to you—I’m not comfortable with any of them. But I am interested in you and what you are deep inside. The external stuff will come and go, but if you’re serious about something happening between us, that’s less important than the connection we make. Just between us two.”
“What about you?” he asked. “Any rabid ex-boy-friends or psycho department heads to tell me about?”
She laughed and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “As a matter of fact…” It only took about ten miles to tell the sad story of Charles and his past and future wife, and then give brief sketches of Byron and Robert. “My love life hasn’t been nearly as interesting as yours,” she confessed finally. “Though considering recent events, maybe that’s not a bad thing.”
“Believe me, recent events don’t have anything to do with my love life.”
“What makes you say that?”
“For one thing, no one I ever dated knew a button from a seam, much less how to detach a sleeve.”
“I don’t think you need to know how to sew to snip threads.”
“And I’m not in the habit of leaving messages with roses, so it’s not like that was intended to say anything specifically about a relationship.”
Cate disagreed, but she let it pass.
“Besides, who knew I was here? Nobody except Stacy Mills, and she wasn’t at the hotel.”
“Do we know that for sure?”
He glanced at her. “Cate, give the poor girl a break. She’s been working her butt off on this book tour. She doesn’t have time to check in to romantic hideaways to climb over roofs and snip clothes apart.”
She had to admit that was probably true.
“We should talk about the future,” she said as they passed long fields full of mature artichokes and rows of young green strawberries. “If not now, then sometime.”
“You’re going to pin me down when the only thing I know for sure about my life is that it’s scheduled through Thursday?”
“That is such a guy thing to say. What’s wrong with wanting to look at the future?”
Planning comforted her. She was the kind who began packing her suitcase two weeks before she left on a trip. This was why she always arrived with everything she needed and never forgot anything. She always researched a destination, finding out where the hotels were, what kind of transportation there was and all the things there were to do. And once she knew that, she planned out her days and made reservations well in advance.
Julia Covington called her a control freak. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. She was simply a practical person who liked to be prepared.
“Nothing at all. There was a time when those words coming out of a woman’s mouth would have made me stop at the nearest gas station and then take off when she was in the restroom.”
“And now?” Cate knew the answer but she still wanted to hear it again. As if every time he said it, it became a little more real.
“I was the one who brought it up. I meant it then and I mean it now. It’s almost the end of the school year. Once you get your exam results in and your paperwork wrapped up, maybe you’d give some thought to coming to Turkey with me. They’re doing some really interesting work at a site there, and you might get some data about your feminine cults.”
Turkey? He was going all the way to Turkey? Goodness, she was going to have to start researching the archaeological work currently going on over there as soon as she got home.
“How long will you be there?” she asked.
“Just a month. We could cut it to three weeks if you were there, though, and do a bit of tripping if you wanted. It’ll be too hot to stay in the Aegean, but we could go up into the mountains in Greece. Delphi is spectacular in the summer.”
“I’ve never been to Delphi. Maybe I’ll find an oracle and she’ll do a better job at telling me about your future than you do.”
He made a self-deprecating face. “I thought I was doing well to know what the next couple of months hold.”
She patted his knee. “You are. But I’m the kind of person who likes to plan. Maybe it’s that need to be in the driver’s seat—you know, thinking I have control of my time, at least.”
“Just don’t forget to plan for a little spontaneity.”
She had to laugh. With Daniel, that wasn’t going to be a problem.
16
AT THE HUGE HOTEL IN OAKLAND, Daniel carried their bags down the long hallway and waited while
Cate opened the door of their room. All the way up the coast from the Egret Inn, he’d kept one eye on the traffic behind them, in case he could single out any one vehicle that seemed to be following. But there’d been nothing. No familiar faces at the gas station in San Jose and none in the hotel lobby.
As far as he could figure, there was nothing preventing them from making love immediately and ordering room service afterward.
Cate opened the curtains and took in the view of the bay, with the Golden Gate Bridge stitching two points of land together in the distance. “Look at that.” She pointed to the side. “There’s an outdoor art fair in the parking lot next door. Since we skipped Monterey, maybe I can get something for Anne there.”
Nothing except a woman’s need to shop, which overrode all other biological imperatives.
At least she was efficient. After fifteen minutes of browsing in the white canvas stalls and chatting with the artists, Cate had narrowed her list down to a necklace made from glass beads that looked like spun-sugar candy and a watercolor of the Golden Gate.
“Decisions, decisions,” she mused. “If I get her the necklace, then at least I can enjoy it, too, when she wears it to work.”
Daniel knew when his opinion wasn’t necessary, so he kept his mouth shut and his mind on the picture of Cate doing something frivolous and—to her—fun. This wasn’t Dr. Wells, the driven academic. Or Cate the athletic rock climber and bird chaser. This was just Cate in her simplest form, buying a gift for a friend.
Maybe, if these growing emotions inside him had their way, this would be the Cate he’d see most often on a daily basis. The loving person made happy when she was able to delight someone else.
The way she delighted him when they were skin to skin, or he was buried so deeply in her body he could no longer imagine what it would be like with another woman. She was no longer the angry academic with the fanged bunny slippers. She was a woman who knew what she wanted—and even better, wanted it with him.
“I’m starving,” Cate announced when they got back to their room.
“I have an idea.” He found the room-service card. “Let’s get naked and eat dinner in bed.” He’d never eaten a steak dinner in bed in his life, but if a person was going to do it, then a chain hotel was the place.
And Cate didn’t even hesitate. By the time room service got there with the trolley, she’d stripped and jumped under the sheets. Fortunately the kitchen whipped up a fine steak, and sharing every other bite with Cate while sneaking choice bits of salad away from her was kind of fun.
“If we get steak juice on these sheets, you’re sleeping on the wet spot.” Cate pointed a julienned strip of red pepper at him and then ate it.
“If we do that, we’re calling housekeeping. And you get to explain what the stain is.”
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d goofed around with someone like a couple of kids with their parents out of town for the weekend. He wasn’t a serious kind of guy. Why, then, had his relationships lacked laughter and this companionable sparkle? With Dulcie Cavanaugh in particular the sex had been driven, reverent, almost, though she was a cheery person in other facets of her life. He’d cared about her, cared a lot, and it hadn’t bothered him until now, when he could contrast her dark linen sheets and shuttered windows with this bright room and the cutlery and napkins scattered within reach.
With Cate, he could be himself. She knew his mistakes and his memories. She knew the public guy and the private one. And maybe that was part of it. The boy who read comic books about a superhero’s adventures had become the man who traveled the world in his own. But deep inside there was still that boy who loved to laugh and make jokes, and dream about what lay over that horizon.
Cate didn’t laugh at that boy, because inside her was a girl who did the same thing, who loved birds for their ability to fly away and see what was out there, yet had her feet firmly planted on the ground.
“We should go to Turkey together.” He leaned back against the pillows and watched her polish off some dessert that involved a lot of raspberry sauce.
“And this is apropos of what?” she said around her spoon.
“Apropos of the two of us always wanting to know what’s over the horizon. We both have this thing about being tied to the earth—even though we spend our lives digging in it.”
Cate put the spoon down and began to collect all their dishes and stack them on the tray. “Is this a gentle way of leading up to the ‘I don’t want to be tied down’ speech?”
He stared at her. “Not at all. I was just thinking about you and your cliffs and birds and me always wanting to be in the field. Which led me to thinking about Turkey. No puns or implications meant.”
“You don’t want to be in the field all the time, though, do you?” She carried the tray out and deposited it in the hallway, then climbed back under the sheets with him. “Because while I like an annual expedition as much as the next person, I’m kind of a homebody. Papers have to be written sometime.”
“I know they do. Well, let’s compromise, then. Two expeditions a year. And maybe one less paper.”
“Deal.” She snuggled down next to him, and he slid lower on the pillows so he could put an arm around her. “It seems funny to be talking like this when a week ago I’d just seen your name in the conference flyer. And that woman, Morgan Shaw, came into my office with that carved box.”
“A lot of things can change in a week.” A spurt of adrenaline shot through his gut, as though he were a diver on a cliff, looking down into the deep blue water. Then he leaped. “A guy could fall in love, for instance.”
She went absolutely still against his side. “Could he?”
What did this mean? Didn’t she feel the same? Had he taken the leap, only to discover the tide had gone out and there was really nothing to land on but rocks?
“Maybe,” he said, preparing to backpedal.
“There’s one more thing we need to add to the deal.”
To avoid the rocks, he was pretty much ready to agree to anything. “What’s that?”
“This whole celebrity angle.”
“I know it bugs you.”
She propped herself up on one elbow. “It’s not that it bugs me. It throws the wrong kind of light on the discipline, Daniel. As in, a massive klieg light.”
“We can use some light. And you know that public acceptance of my work brings in more funding.”
“But Daniel, you don’t have to do these appearances with starlets to get public acceptance or funding. You don’t have to make yourself look like a glory-hound to get respect.”
Her breathing was fast and those telltale streaks of color had appeared on her cheekbones. Fight or flight. Well, after the big meal they’d just consumed, he didn’t want to do either one. Instead, he pulled her down beside him, where she lay stiffly, unwilling to soften.
“Cate, tell me what’s really behind this. I agree I can probably lose the starlets. I’d rather have you at my side. But there’s something else that’s eating you. How about you tell me what it is?”
She was silent for a moment, and then with a sigh her body began to relax.
“Fear, I guess. You wouldn’t believe how stuffy they are at Vandenberg. I guess I’m afraid that if our names are linked in the press, the dean will trot out his morality lecture and I won’t get what I’ve been working toward all these years.”
“What’s that? Tenure?”
“Yes.”
“Do you really want tenure under conditions like that? Where you can’t maintain a personal life?”
“There’s a difference between having a personal life and having one splashed all over the tabloids. And believe me, lots of the faculty read them, though they’d die before they said so.”
“I can’t believe it.” He gave her a little squeeze. “A bunch of scientists? What happened to reliable data and reputable sources?”
“I know.” Her voice was muffled between the pillow and his shoulder. “You should have heard me bad-mo
uthing you over the Newsweek article, and that’s not even sold on the same shelf. Now I’m going to have to take it all back and admit that—”
“What?”
“—that I’ve fallen for you after all.”
17
CATE HAD LEARNED THE HARD WAY that, sometimes, the consequences of saying the words were harder to live with than actually having the relationship. With Charles, the words had been the catalyst that had triggered his flight to Chicago and back to his wife. In one way that was a good thing. Maybe she’d done him a favor. In another way, it was totally humiliating to realize that he’d rather have a woman he’d left once already than have her.
Most of the time, Cate preferred to think it was the first option.
As for Byron and Robert, she’d taken them seriously at the time, but she could see now they were more like practice climbs—the walls you scaled when you were getting ready for the real thing. She hadn’t gotten very far, but at least she’d honed her skills before Daniel had come along.
And in a funny way, she supposed she could be grateful for that, too.
Their conversation the night before had cleared the air between her and Daniel, and the California weather seemed to reflect it. After breakfast in the restaurant off the hotel’s lobby, they took the shuttle downtown to Jack London Square. The place was alive with groups of people strolling in the sun, sleek sailboats scudding by on the bay, and gulls wheeling and calling to each other as the ferries plied the waters beneath them.
She felt the way a cat must feel after a full meal, lying in the sun and blinking with contentment. Even her skin felt smoother, her muscles silkier, as though sex had performed some kind of magic on her. Or maybe it was more than sex. More than learning the heights to which pleasure could take her. Maybe it was simply being in love.
Could that be possible? Could she really have fallen in love with Daniel in such a short time? Because she’d never believed in love at first sight. In her rational way, she’d always believed that friendship deepened into love, the way it had with her parents. Infatuation, yes. Lust, of course. Those were the work of a couple of seconds. But real love?
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