things were found.”
Cort
rolled his eyes. “It's a wonder you ever find anything with all that
recording.”
“Cross-checking
is important and so is having a minute attention to detail.”
“I'll
bet being compulsive helps, too.”
Carter
smiled.
After
lunch, they prepared a spot outside the circle of boulders where dirt would be
passed through screens to make sure even the smallest finds would be retained.
Then they took a break and did some exploring around the mountain.
It was
late in the afternoon when they returned to camp. Cort's eyes were looking off
into the distance when he said good-bye. “So, I guess I'll see you
tomorrow?”
“Sure.
Thanks again for all your hard work.”
With an
awkward wave, the kid disappeared into the woods. She was hoping that the day
spent at work with her had discouraged his crush. After laboring in the dirt,
she felt sweaty and disheveled and trusted that her current condition wasn't
the stuff to attract the opposite sex.
Especially
not sixteen-year-old boys who probably believed magazine models looked like
they did without the benefit of airbrushing.
Carter
picked up her site map and a pad and went back to the rock that she'd
started the day sitting on. She was ready to spend the next hour or so working
on dig strategy.
Should
they do a few test pits or just start the excavation? The site was insular
enough—
Nick had
invited his woman up.
Carter
looked around, as if she'd been struck by a spitball.
Frowning,
she went back to the map.
The site
was insular enough, sufficiently compact, and had had at least one artifact
retrieved, Winship's real cross. Test pits were probably not necessary to—
She was
jealous.
“I
am not!” The sound of her indignant voice startled a nearby chipmunk who
squeaked and scurried under a log.
She put
her head in her hands. She and Nick Farrell had nothing in common. She didn't
even like him. He was arrogant, sarcastic—
He was a
terrific kisser.
“Oh,
for heaven's sake,” she muttered.
Even when
things had been unbearably bad after her mother's death, even in those bleak
moments when her world was spinning and shifting on its axis, even then, she'd
been able to find some relief in her work. Certainly enough for her to get by.
But now, as she looked down at the map with its static grids and alphanumeric
coding, she couldn't see farther than the surface of the paper.
“Dammit.”
With her
head full of images of Nick Farrell, she wanted to run but had nowhere to go.
And she found it hard to believe she could feel so suffocated in the great
outdoors.
Carter
left her perch and returned to camp. The change in scenery didn't help, so she
dropped the map, as well as any thought of getting some work done, and took a
walk over to the brook. When she got there, she crouched down and dropped a
hand into the water. It went numb under the cold rush.
Exactly
what she was looking for.
Stripping
off her clothes, she stepped into the river. The cold took her breath away even
though the water only came up to her thighs. Reaching down, she cupped her
hands and carried the chill to her body, desperate to cleanse herself of her
thoughts and the heat they generated. As the water streamed down her body in
icy paths, she enjoyed the stinging sensation that lingered. Even if her teeth
chattered, at least she wasn't thinking about Nick Farrell for the moment.
* * *
Through
the trees, Nick watched her with complete absorption. The only thing that kept
him from going over to her was his iron will.
Which was
feeling less ironlike with each passing minute.
He'd come
up the mountain to talk about their kiss and had waited until Cort had returned
home so they'd be alone. He'd intended to have a straight-out conversation about
what had happened the night before and was determined to put the event in its
proper context. In the intervening hours since he'd felt her against him, he'd
managed to convince himself that it had been nothing more than
Cort
rolled his eyes. “It's a wonder you ever find anything with all that
recording.”
“Cross-checking
is important and so is having a minute attention to detail.”
“I'll
bet being compulsive helps, too.”
Carter
smiled.
After
lunch, they prepared a spot outside the circle of boulders where dirt would be
passed through screens to make sure even the smallest finds would be retained.
Then they took a break and did some exploring around the mountain.
It was
late in the afternoon when they returned to camp. Cort's eyes were looking off
into the distance when he said good-bye. “So, I guess I'll see you
tomorrow?”
“Sure.
Thanks again for all your hard work.”
With an
awkward wave, the kid disappeared into the woods. She was hoping that the day
spent at work with her had discouraged his crush. After laboring in the dirt,
she felt sweaty and disheveled and trusted that her current condition wasn't
the stuff to attract the opposite sex.
Especially
not sixteen-year-old boys who probably believed magazine models looked like
they did without the benefit of airbrushing.
Carter
picked up her site map and a pad and went back to the rock that she'd
started the day sitting on. She was ready to spend the next hour or so working
on dig strategy.
Should
they do a few test pits or just start the excavation? The site was insular
enough—
Nick had
invited his woman up.
Carter
looked around, as if she'd been struck by a spitball.
Frowning,
she went back to the map.
The site
was insular enough, sufficiently compact, and had had at least one artifact
retrieved, Winship's real cross. Test pits were probably not necessary to—
She was
jealous.
“I
am not!” The sound of her indignant voice startled a nearby chipmunk who
squeaked and scurried under a log.
She put
her head in her hands. She and Nick Farrell had nothing in common. She didn't
even like him. He was arrogant, sarcastic—
He was a
terrific kisser.
“Oh,
for heaven's sake,” she muttered.
Even when
things had been unbearably bad after her mother's death, even in those bleak
moments when her world was spinning and shifting on its axis, even then, she'd
been able to find some relief in her work. Certainly enough for her to get by.
But now, as she looked down at the map with its static grids and alphanumeric
coding, she couldn't see farther than the surface of the paper.
“Dammit.”
With her
head full of images of Nick Farrell, she wanted to run but had nowhere to go.
And she found it hard to believe she could feel so suffocated in the great
outdoors.
Carter
left her perch and returned to camp. The change in scenery didn't help, so she
dropped the map, as well as any thought of getting some work done, and took a
walk over to the brook. When she got there, she crouched down and dropped a
hand into the water. It went numb under the cold rush.
Exactly
what she was looking for.
Stripping
off her clothes, she stepped into the river. The cold took her breath away even
though the water only came up to her thighs. Reaching down, she cupped her
hands and carried the chill to her body, desperate to cleanse herself of her
thoughts and the heat they generated. As the water streamed down her body in
icy paths, she enjoyed the stinging sensation that lingered. Even if her teeth
chattered, at least she wasn't thinking about Nick Farrell for the moment.
* * *
Through
the trees, Nick watched her with complete absorption. The only thing that kept
him from going over to her was his iron will.
Which was
feeling less ironlike with each passing minute.
He'd come
up the mountain to talk about their kiss and had waited until Cort had returned
home so they'd be alone. He'd intended to have a straight-out conversation about
what had happened the night before and was determined to put the event in its
proper context. In the intervening hours since he'd felt her against him, he'd
managed to convince himself that it had been nothing more than
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