A Midsummer Night's Romp by Katie MacAlister Page B

then I won’t. And I won’t be able to explain myself. And Roger will kick me off the dig site. I really don’t want that.” My words trailed off in a manner that reeked of pathos, but evidently, there was enough truth to sway her.
    â€œIndeed, that would be a shame, if for no other reason than Cressida likes you, and will look forward to seeing your book.”
    Guilt zapped me like a red-hot poker, but I summoned a smile. “Thanks, Salma. I appreciate your support. I should get going. Er . . . will you be all right on your own? Can I get you anything?”
    Salma gave me a calm, gentle smile. “My dear, I have been on my own since my dearest Gerald died seven years ago. I assure you that I will be just fine alone for a few hours. I have brought several books to read.”
    â€œYou’re not one of the volunteers? I assumed you were.”
    â€œI won’t be doing any of the digging, no. I have offered to help clean the finds, though. I think it will be very rewarding to take a dirty piece of pottery and clean it up so one can admire it.”
    â€œVery rewarding,” I agreed, feeling a sense of reliefthat she wasn’t going to be participating in the hard work. “And wise to stay out of the hot sun while doing manual labor. Not that you couldn’t if you wanted to . . . oh dear. I put my foot in my mouth again.”
    She gave a little laugh. “Not at all, although I do appreciate your concern. Cressida and Gunner take very good care of me, you know.”
    â€œI’m sure they do. I’ll see you later, then.”
    She waved me off, and I toddled away to go meet with Paul, my mind torn between chastising myself for misleading such a nice lady and thoughts about what I needed to do next.
    It hadn’t taken much to maneuver myself into sitting next to him during a crew meeting the day before, and a few innocent questions about archaeology that were guaranteed to pump his ego had done the trick—he had gone from polite to mildly flirtatious in just half an hour. I rubbed my ear, thinking of how he’d whispered answers to my leading questions, his breath hot and unpleasant.
    â€œSo everyone is allowed to do this field walking?” I had asked him midway through the meeting, and he’d leaned into me to answer.
    â€œIf they know what to look for, yes. Do you know what to look for, Lori?”
    â€œDepends what you’re talking about,” I had answered lightly, making myself sick with a false show of archness.
    â€œI will be happy to tutor you later, my dear. In
all
things that interest you,” he had breathed into my ear, leaving me even now with a massive desire to bathe my head in antiseptic.
    â€œYou’re doing this for a good cause,” I told myself, and, accordingly, slapped a smile on my face when I stopped outside the last RV in the row. Given the heat that was starting to ramp up, I couldn’t help but begrateful for the shade that the expandable awning cast down over a small card table and a couple of chairs. The latter were occupied by Paul and Fidencia, both of whom were poring over several sheets of paper bearing black-and-white blotches.
    It wasn’t what they were doing that had me raising my eyebrows, but how closely Paul was lurking over the young woman’s shoulder. I had a momentary pang of sympathy for her—the poor girl probably had no idea what she was letting herself in for—but the idea of what he could do reinforced my resolution to end his tomcat ways once and for all.
    â€œAh, there you are.” Paul smiled and hastily moved away from the woman. “Fidencia and I were just going over some of the magnetic imaging results.”
    â€œI can see that. Hi, Fidencia. Nice to see you again.”
    â€œYes.” Her tone was as terse as her manner toward me. She flipped back her long, glossy black hair. “Roger told us we must answer any questions you have