Carolina Heat (31 page)

Mark inclined his head. “Thank you for asking, Mr. Beaufort. Most people hear the words research project and run the other way. It’s purely a pleasure to be able to talk about my work.” Mark laid the book back in the display case so he could punctuate his words with his hands. “It’s a study of generational military lineage. I’ll begin with the Confederate soldiers listed in this book and use them as a stepping-off point. I plan to trace back to see if the same family lines fought in the Revolutionary War or the War of 1812, and of course come forward and do the same with World War I and II, Vietnam and Korea. My premise has its base in anthropology.”

Annabelle was charmed by how easy it was for him to switch into lecture mode, his voice rising and falling into almost musical cadences.

“Do the patriarchs instill a sense of leadership, or a sense of duty to the country, or is it they simply see no alternative? And how does it break down between enlisted and officers? The United States is so young, historically speaking, which means compared to the rest of the world, we have a staggering amount of written history. Diaries, letters, even wills can give voice to these soldiers who’ve been gone for decades.”

Rex wiped his hand across his forehead. “Hoo boy, that was one hell of an answer!” He nudged Annabelle with his elbow. “Is he always so much? That man of yours gets on a tear, doesn’t he?”

“It’s how he got me on our first date. He just kept going; wore me down until I didn’t know how it happened but there we were.” She grabbed Mark’s hand and squeezed.

“I can send you a copy of the finished product once it’s ready for publication.” Mark snapped his fingers as he pulled the book back out of the case. “Maybe you could even exhibit it here at the school, in homage to where the research began.”

“Well now, it’s a mighty generous offer. Think I’ll wait for the movie, if you know what I mean.” Rex closed the display case and pocketed the key. “Take care of this book. Jillian swears up and down you’re good for it. Remember, it’s my ass on the line if anything happens.”

“It won’t be surrounded by a thousand armed cadets, but it will be safe, I give you my word.” Mark shook hands with the older man. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a moment and wrap it up for protection.”

“Perfect! Take as much time as you need. Look around at the rest of the exhibit if you want. But I’ll excuse myself. My boat, not to mention the rest of my passengers, is waiting. Dering, Miss Carlyle, a pleasure.”

Once they were alone in the hallway, Annabelle swept off an imaginary hat and executed a deep bow.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m taking off my cap to you. The cover story you spun was pure gold. It was like watching theatre. I was petrified for a moment, but you came through. And it was surprisingly fun to stand back and watch.”

“Well, that means a lot coming from a seasoned master of the trade. Have to admit, the idea isn’t completely without merit. The more I think about it, the thesis is something I could actually sink my teeth into. After all, everyone should have a hobby.”

Annabelle shook her head. “Only you would look forward to digging your nose into moldy books in your spare time. I once dated a man who enjoyed birding. Talk about three hours of my life I’ll never get back. But I think this might be even more boring.”

“Philistine. With that kind of an attitude, I’m not sure you should be allowed to touch this book.”

She traced the outline of the title with her finger. “
Sons of the Confederate Nation, a Legacy of Sacrifice
. Has a ring to it, I suppose. Probably tugged at the heartstrings of those loyal to the cause.”

“The good news is, judging from a quick glance, it’s not damaged. Over a century old and showing it, but still in decent shape. We should be able to handle it, read it. We’ll need to be careful, but I’d say we’re in more danger of it than the book is from us. Paper cuts can be nasty.”

“Probably the real reason behind the push for a paperless society,” Annabelle agreed. She quickly wrapped the book in plastic and a large envelope and snuggled it into her bag.

“Let’s get out of here before one of these strapping young military types catches your eye.” Mark pulled her through the library.

“Don’t worry. My head’s been turned quite enough this trip. My hands, so to speak, are already full.”

“Nice to hear.” They got into the car and Mark drove them back through the main gate.

Annabelle stretched her arms over her head, luxuriating in all the fun the convertible offered. “I’m really going to miss this car. I’ve lived my life out of rental cars, but this one definitely stands out. How soon do you have to return it?”

“Depends on how long I can convince you to stay.”

She was confused. “What do you mean? I’m just asking if you rented it for a few days or the whole week.”

“Like you, I travel a lot. Don’t bother to keep a car in town. I like zipping around in this baby as much as you do. With his current project, I don’t plan to leave the country for a while. I’ve been thinking about buying a car.”

She spread her fingers wide to catch more of the rushing wind. He wasn’t making any sense. His reluctance to give a straight answer mystified her. “Mark, what does this have to do with me? If you want to buy a car, go ahead.”

“If you stay, we could both drive it.” He flashed a casual grin before turning his attention back to the road.

Annabelle lowered her arms all the way and gripped the edge of the seat tightly. The need to hang on to something was suddenly powerful. “Let me be sure I’ve got this straight. You’re asking me to stay in Charleston?”

He raised his voice over the rushing wind. “That’s right. How about it?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

She couldn’t look at him. And Annabelle didn’t know if she wanted it to be a cruel joke or the absolutely crazy ravings of a lunatic. Because the idea was, well….nuts. “You’re kidding. You don’t expect me to believe you really mean it? Jonathan set you up to ask me as a joke, right?”

With a muttered oath he jerked the car onto the shoulder. Tires kicked up a swirl of gravel as he stopped the car.

“What the hell are you doing? I don’t think swerving across two lanes of traffic and stopping so hard my teeth hurt constitutes safe driving.”

“I can’t drive and have this conversation with you.” Mark whipped off his seatbelt. “Annabelle, I’m not asking you to necessarily stay in Charleston. I’m asking if you’ll stay with
me
.”

She concentrated on digging her fingers into the upholstery. She needed the physical sensation to focus. It was all her brain could process without flying into a million pieces. The man was certifiable. Annabelle tried for a calm, reasoned tone. “Mark, you can’t mean what you just said. Take a step back and look at the big picture. I’ve only been here a week. Sure, it’s been fun, but…”

“I’m not an idiot,” he countered swiftly. “I can read a calendar. And yes, I’m aware if you plundered the entire self-help section at Barnes & Noble, every single book would recommend a getting-to-know-you period of far more than a week before diving into a committed relationship.”

“Exactly.” A wave of relief washed over her. It was enough to loosen her grip slightly. Reason was getting through to him. This whole weird conversation would be over soon, and they could get back to normal. “Life-altering decisions can’t be made after a week. It’s absurd to think otherwise.”

He shook his head in disagreement. “Nope, not absurd. A week, a month, six months—it’s completely arbitrary how long it takes people to learn about each other. Heck, some people can’t do it after a year. There are African cultures which betroth infants to each other. In India you have a centuries old tradition of arranged marriages where the bride and groom never meet before the big day. Makes our week together look pretty good, doesn’t it? Maybe a little out of the box, but not completely unheard of.”

The absurdity of his claims teased a bit of temper out of her. “You need to slow down. I’m not going to base my relationship on pygmy customs.”

Mark waved a hand in the air. “That was off the top of my head. Initial salvo, nothing more. I can do research once I get home, come up with more specific anthropological examples of swift courtship. You know, if it would make you feel better.”

”No, I really don’t think it would. Despite what you may believe, a good dose of research doesn’t solve everything.” This conversation had spun back out of control. The situation was surreal. On assignment, tracking a crazed murderer, her brother narrowly escaping death while she deftly fends off a passionate lover. Her life had become the plot for a movie-of-the-week. “We aren’t impetuous teenagers, punch-drunk with infatuation. We’re adults, who know all our actions have long-reaching repercussions.”

On a half-laugh, Mark tugged at his hair with one hand. “God, Annabelle, you make it sound like I’m proposing an incursion into enemy territory.”

She was tempted to point out that asking a Yankee to move into South Carolina would be viewed by many as exactly that; a hostile infiltration. “You caught me off guard. You can’t complain about my choice of words when it’s by sheer force of will I can form complete sentences.”

“No, I’m the one who screwed up. I’ve bungled the entire business from the start. But hopefully it isn’t too late to rectify the situation and do it properly.” Mark got out of the car.

“Now what are you doing?” Her heart slammed in triple time against her chest.

“I realize I did this backwards. Can’t expect you to make a decision without all the facts to work with, can I?” he muttered almost to himself. Mark opened her door and gently pulled her legs out so she faced him. He knelt in front of her, hands clasped around both of hers, and took a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was low and sure.

“Annabelle, you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. We’ve run a gamut of emotions and experiences in a week that most people don’t go through after years together. You’re intriguing, compassionate, dedicated, feisty, and sexy as hell. I admit we’ve barely scratched the surface of what we know about each other, but I know enough to be one hundred percent certain I want to be with you. All I ask is that you give us a chance.”

Annabelle exhaled the breath she’d held through his entire speech. She knew she’d be playing back his words for the rest of her life. It was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard, and couldn’t quite believe it was really directed at her. Things like this happened to other people, not to a globe-trotting reporter on the brink of burnout. This was the
moment
. Not a typical hearts and flowers filled moment, but nothing about Mark was ordinary.

Her response was slow but deliberate. “Suddenly you don’t sound so crazy.”

The solemn earnestness of his gaze broke into a more light-hearted twinkle. “Crazy about you? Definitely. Otherwise, completely sane. In fact, I’ve never felt more clear, more strong about a decision in my entire life. I’m telling you, this can work.”

Maybe… But as seduced by the moment as Annabelle was, reality still hammered at her with potential problems. “Even if we toss all logic aside for the moment, think about the practicality, the logistics,” she countered.

“What, the fact we live hundreds of miles apart? Why should it be a problem?”

“Well, the New York subway system is big, but it doesn’t go out of New York, for starters. That’s quite a commute you’re suggesting.”

Mark shrugged. “Don’t get hung up on small details. NYU and Columbia have been trying to hire me for the past year. For that matter, so have Brown, Northwestern and Stanford. I don’t care where we end up. We can work everything out. All that matters now is for you to tell me you feel the same way.”

“Small details?” The urge to move, to pace,
do
something to let out the nervous energy thrummed within her. She felt hemmed in, trapped both by Mark’s body blocking her exit from the car and the weight of what he asked. It was all too much.

Annabelle shoved her knees at his chest, toppled him backwards and jumped out of the car. It was only a few strides till she was stopped by the underbrush. She changed directions and began to pace the length of the car.

“Small details?” she hurled at him again. “It’s because you say things like that I have to believe you’re crazy. There’s no other explanation!” She stopped in front of where he lay sprawled on the ground. “What we’re facing can only be classified as
gigantic
obstacles. We both have jobs, lives, responsibilities which are completely different.”

“Nope. Not so different.”

If nothing else, his unfailing optimism was completely different from her steeped-in-reality approach to life. “Come on, Mark—be serious for a minute. This won’t work. And you’re wasting our time with this discussion.”

He surged to his feet. “Oh, I’m serious. If you’d stop flying off the handle and examine what I’ve said, you’d see it for yourself. Here I am, baring my soul and all you can do is pick a fight? What are you scared of, Annabelle?”

Everything. Of it not working. Of getting hurt. Of hurting this amazingly wonderful man who’d opened her heart.