She took the sweatshirt from him and their hands slid against one another. “Thank you.” She slipped the sweatshirt on. It was oversized, warm and soft, and it smelled like Griffin: seductive, like the forest that surrounded them.
“I think Lillian is bringing a few things for me to wear as well.”
He raised an eyebrow at her lower half that was still clad in her bikini bottoms. “I think I like you in my sweatshirt better.”
A grin pulled at her lips. “You’re a terrible flirt.”
“Not usually.” His smile widened and he tossed a cherry into his mouth. “But I can’t seem to keep my thoughts off of you.”
He called his friend Mac, who agreed to provide police support for the night.
Happiness fluttered in her chest like the newness of spring. She tried to focus on his name again to recheck her reading, but found herself too distracted. Maybe even trusting. She ran her hand alongside a large and detailed model of what looked like an ancient city.
“So, this is it?” she asked.
He handed her a glass of iced tea and offered her a cherry from the bowl.
“Yep, this is my first big discovery. Hopefully, anyway. My theory is that it was covered by a volcanic eruption that happened about halfway through the second millennium. If I’m right, we ought to find this in Crete. Right now we’re waiting for the final approval from the government in Greece to allow us to dig and explore.”
“Lots to that process, I guess?”
“Yes. They want to make sure we don’t remove anything that we find, they want all the artifacts to go to their museums. The college is trying to fund our trip, so we have to make sure they have the proper amount of money for the dig and so forth.”
“So, one day I’ll walk into a museum and I’ll see a big, black and white photo of you in front of your discovery. You’ll be wearing your Indiana Jones hat, of course.”
He laughed. “Something like that.”
She turned and found him closer than she anticipated. Attraction ignited between them like fireworks on Independence Day. She stepped to the side of the display. “Do you have an Indiana Jones hat?” she asked softly.
He pointed to the rack in the foyer where several wide brimmed hats hung in a row. Some were off white, some tan. “No fedoras. But they do the job.”
Silence hung between them, and his gaze swept over her face. She thought for a moment that he was going to kiss her again. But he cleared his throat and stepped away.
He talked about his ancient city, the years of effort he had put into trying to locate it, how much he loved Greece and Italy. His enthusiasm reminded her of the stacks of travel books she used to check out from the library and the hours she had spent poring through them, planning the faraway trips she’d thought she would have taken by now.
She longed for that life of adventure she hadn’t lived, the path she hadn’t taken. New cities, new countries, new ideas.
The coolness of the moon’s light shone into the room through a triangular window near the ceiling. The quiet, healing energy of the lake reached her. He took her iced tea glass and set it on the counter, then drew her into his arms. He pulled her into a kiss, opened his mouth over hers.
It was the first time in too long where she felt she could let go and let things happen. The first time in quite a while where she actually wanted to feel the emotions that coursed through her.
His tongue swept across hers and his hands slid under the sweatshirt, running over her back and hips. Her body was like a volcano, heat building and surging, fire rising. She moaned against his mouth and he pulled away. His gray eyes were fierce and dazzling. He tugged at the sweatshirt and she helped it over her head.
He brushed his hand over her hair. “You’ve been a complete surprise to me.” He smiled briefly and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was slow and long and deep. Her body fell against his, dizzy with need. She had forgotten what this was like, to be so attracted to someone. That it could feel so right, that the moment could carry her away.
A warning sounded from the back of her mind—he was off to Greece for his expedition soon and she would have to go home to take care of her father. She didn’t want this to be casual.
He paused, appeared to study her face. “Do you want to take some wine into the sunroom?”
She bit her lower lip. She’d never felt so drawn to someone before, so captivated. All the months of suffering and crying. The endless nights of feeling lost and alone. That all seemed to burn away in the moment with him.
“I have a new French red we can try.” The caress of his fingers was long and slow against her arm.
She drank in the heat and the fire that came with being so close to him. “Maybe later.”
“It’s just that you seem worried, and I don’t want you to feel conflicted or pressured. I’m a patient man, Barbara.”
“I can see that.” She ran her palms over his chest and along his narrow waist. A quiet voice within warned her that she wanted him too much, was beginning to care too deeply and that she was headed for yet more heartbreak. But the heat between them was burning out of control and she was so tired of playing it safe. She moved toward him until another objection stopped her.
“It’s just that I haven’t—not since before…he died.” Her breath came more easily after she said it, and she felt better for having told him.
“I haven’t either, not since before she died.” He brushed a few strands of hair from her face and exhaled deep and slow. Some tension, some reservation seemed to leave him as well.
He leaned toward her, hesitantly. She closed the distance by half and met him in a kiss. She relaxed into the goodness she had sensed about him from the beginning, not at all able to explain the peace that welled up inside of her. But she settled into it all the same, trusting the insights she had gathered thus far. And let go.
After a while, she said, “I’m so tired of being patient.”
His hand trailed along her cheek, her neck, his eyes steady on her. “You’re where you want to be?”
“I am exactly where I want to be,” she said.
He kissed her neck, his tongue teasing, his hands exploring. She let herself flow with every touch and each caress. Enjoying the sweet storm that gathered strength inside of her, making her feel alive once again.
He lifted her onto the counter and she gasped. He pulled the ties at the back of her bikini top, and her body shivered with anticipation.
“Beautiful,” he said and closed his mouth around her breast. The warmth of his breath made her ache to feel more of him.
His mouth worshipped her, and she ran her hands through his hair and over the iron-solid curves of his back. He moved over her, discovering her body inch by painfully slow inch, until her inexplicable feelings for him nearly swallowed her whole.
By the time he carried her to his bed, thousands of stars had scattered across the dark sky. Owls called across the forest. Bullfrogs and crickets were serenading in the thick black of the night.
Like cold smoke leaving the dying embers of an old fire, her memories of death and loneliness swirled into the shadows. The feel of his hands over her body brought her home, made her remember what it was like to be herself again, reminded her that she had survived.
She moved over his solid build, each shift of her weight leaving her swamped in sensation. His kisses were long and deep, and pleasure soared through her from soul to skin.
As if the last fiber of his restraint snapped, he flipped her onto her back, torturing her with raw pleasure. His eyes, sharp and focused, glowed in the dusty light. “Oh, Barbara,” he breathed.
She could no longer hear the forest outside, the room filled with their mingled cries. When he finally kissed her once again, the intimacy they shared caressed her heart.
14
“Tell me something about you.” His light gray eyes were clear and intense, studying her closely.
“What would you like to know?”
“Anything. I’
m an archaeologist. I like discoveries. Tell me what you like, besides boating and swimming.”
She traced the angle of his jaw with the tip of her finger, enjoying the prickle of his light beard. “I like the beach in autumn, the mountains in the summer, and pretty much anywhere in the spring. I love being near water and I’m always happiest when I’m outside.”
He kissed her lips, then her neck, rolling her onto her back. He shifted his weight until he rested comfortably on top of her. She wondered how long they could stay like this, adrift in their own world.
“Now you. Tell me what you like,” she said.
He exhaled deeply. “I’m happiest outdoors as well, especially when I’m on a dig. I love travel, waterfalls, and swimming in the ocean under a full moon.”
“Mmmm, swimming under a full moon. I wish I’d thought of that one.”
“Now, a tough question.” He narrowed his eyes at her with pretend seriousness. “Tell me your secret psychic superpower.”
She grinned. She didn't typically tell people about her gift outright, but she wanted to share it with him.
"Everyone has one,” he said. “For example, mine is finding things. I can find almost anything. Lost, buried, stolen, if I have enough clues to work with, I can usually find what I need.”
She thought of the key and the Star of David keychain her former husband had left behind, and wondered if Griffin could help her find what the key opened.
“Then being an archaeologist is a good fit for you.”
“It’s a well-suited career. Okay, your turn.”
“Well, this may sound rather strange, but if I really concentrate on it, I can describe people I’ve never met.”
His eyebrows climbed and he shifted his weight to the side of her. “This I have to see. Show me how that works.”
She tucked the navy blue sheet around her and leaned on one of her elbows. “I just need a first name and I can tell you all about that person.”
“How—?” He sat up slightly as well, obviously interested.
She explained her gift as she had to David. “I don’t get every detail I want, but most of the time I can get pretty useful information. My dad likes to joke that I never meet a stranger. It's all just about reading energy.”
She thought of David’s fake passport and driver’s license. “Except for my former husband. Strangely, I never could read him. Pop always said I’m too much like my mother, I like to see the best in people, so I overlook things. Important things like flaws, tendencies, motivations. People surprise the heck out of me if I don’t read them first. David was the only person I’d ever met that I couldn’t read at all.”
“Any idea why that was the case?”
“None,” she said. “I looked at his birth certificate to verify his name, tried reading his middle name—nothing. All I can figure is he must have had some kind of ability to shield himself. Just before he was shot, he told me he thought he knew why I couldn’t read him, and he was going to share that with me. But he never got the chance.”
“Another mystery,” he said. “So, if I give you a name you can tell me all about them?”
“Go ahead.”
“How about Luke?”
She meditated on the name until she had his vibe. “Alright, ah, well-educated. I get the sense he has two or maybe even three advanced degrees. He’s afraid y’all might not get to work together again. But he’s wrong about that. Y’all are definitely working together again.”
Griffin’s eyes stayed wide for a long moment. “That’s incredible.”
She smiled, proud. “Somehow it’s all tied to their name. My mother was Irish and she used to tell me this lore about how a leprechaun could steal your soul if he had your name. Or maybe it was your identity. No, it was soul. I think. It’s been a while since I heard the story.”
“And one Steve is different from another Steve?”
She nodded. “It is. I just have to know that it’s a real person I’m reading. Then when I’m intent upon reading that particular person, voila. The information is there. My dad used to feed me names when he worked police investigations years ago.”
“You helped him solve cases?”
“A few. I don’t often see if someone is guilty of something or not. But sometimes the information I got was useful for him.”
“Fascinating. For the record, you were incredibly accurate about Luke. He’s got two masters and a Ph.D. And he is terrified that I’m going to back out of this project in part because it’s taking him so long to get everything organized.”
She nodded, tried not think about how Griffin would move away soon.
“I stood him up twice before,” he said. “The first time I was supposed to go, my former wife and I were having some difficulty. I’d been traveling too much. She asked me to give up the digs and the project with Luke. I did, to try and work things out with her.” He shook his head. “But giving all that up didn’t help the marriage. So Luke and I rebuilt the project. Then she got sick the next time I was supposed to go. I stayed here to take care of her. By the time she passed and I thought I could work again, our permits had expired, and we were back to square one.”
Barbara thought of what Lillian had told her about how Loralee had cheated on Griffin when he traveled for work. When she got sick he took care of her until the very end. Goodness.
“Were you and your wife happy? Before she got sick?”
He looked beyond her as if he took the question seriously and needed to find just the right answer. “For a while. But I wasn’t happy without my work. Thought I could do it, but I couldn’t. I needed my archaeological work like I needed air. That meant traveling and being away from home for months at a time. We talked about it at length. She tried traveling with me and hated it. So, we tried it apart—she stayed home while I traveled. But my being away was hard on her. Ultimately I don’t think long distance relationships work.”
Barbara focused on Loralee’s name and repeated the first piece of information that popped into her head. “She lost herself.”
“That’s about right,” he said. “Loralee was a very pretty girl, and she relied on those looks too much, not enough on what she had inside.” He tapped his chest. “As a result, I don’t think she ever really figured out what she wanted. She liked the attention she got from men, she tended to follow that favor whenever it was presented. In a small town, a pretty girl has lots of options.”
“I’m sorry. Life is so hard sometimes.”
“Yeah. Well. I guess we’ve both learned that. Lillian tells me I’ve isolated myself, that I need to be more outgoing, more involved at the college and all of its social activities.”
Barbara smiled at Lillian’s suggestion. She had been told the same thing by family and friends, but she never followed their advice. “What do you think?”
“Eh, she’s probably right that I ought to get out more, but being an archeologist, traveling, it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. My idea of getting out will be traveling to Greece and working on the dig.” His voice faded and he rubbed his thumb along the edge of her bottom lip.
A breeze hummed through the trees, and a subtle scent of pine and camellias drifted into the room. She thought of the wish book she had put together, with all of the pictures of faraway locations she had collected over the years. Her travel bucket list. Greece was on the front cover, but now that location seemed further away than it ever had before.
Neither of them mentioned the elephant in the room—that he was leaving soon. And so was she.
“So, um. Did you read me?” he asked.
“I did.”
“And what did you find?”
She ran her fingernail down the center of his chest. “You’re a good person, Griffin.”
His expression softened.
She placed her hand over his heart. “You honor your commitments, you play by the golden rule, even when it doesn’t benefit you, you love your work so much that you would work day and night if you could get away with it,
you think that if you hadn't been traveling that you and your wife might have been happy.”
Griffin sat up and rubbed his hand across his forehead. “Wow. That was…crazy accurate.” He stared at her, his mouth slightly open. He turned toward the window for a long moment, as if too many thoughts tumbled through his mind. When he finally turned around, he said, “Come on. Let’s open that new bottle of red wine.”
He handed her a black robe that was laid across a chair and she slipped it on. Then he grabbed a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. On the front porch they found three bags with the items Lillian had promised: hot soup, homemade bread, pie and several outfits with the tags still attached.
When they brought everything into the kitchen, she asked, “Is it really true that you can find anything?”
“Just about anything.” He selected the wine from the wine rack, along with two long stemmed glasses. “Are you trying to find something?” He lowered the glasses to the counter slowly, as if he suddenly knew the answer to his question.
“David left behind a key. It might be a safe deposit box key, I’m not sure. It doesn’t belong to the bank we used.” She served two bowls of Lillian’s soup along with the warm bread. “I’m wondering if that key fits the place where he left the diamonds.”
His gray eyes lit up. He was ready to help, ready for a challenge, ready to uncover what had been hidden. “Tell me what you have so far.”
They sat at the breakfast table and she glanced at the uncovered window near the ceiling, bright stars covered the evening sky. As they ate she told him about the fake passports she’d found and how David had pushed for them to leave town.
When he asked to see the key, she dug into her purse and pulled the Star of David keychain from the zippered pocket. “Here it is.”
He turned the keychain over in his hand, examined both sides. “Everything people leave behind is a clue. Sometimes it’s intentional, other times not. So, let’s think about this. Did he leave a note with the key?”
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