Excavated (2 page)

“What
is?”

“
Girl
Meets Ghost
. She’s a riot!”

Another
of them, a tiny brunette named Kayla, added, “She managed to get a tour into
areas of the Great Pyramid that almost no one ever sees, but she’s crawling
through the passages in a tight skirt and Manolo Blahniks.”

Philip
sighed, preparing himself for two weeks of frustration. “So is the popularity
from mocking her or ogling her?”

“No,
no. Neither. Well, maybe ogling her a little. She’s definitely hot. But she’s
really smart,” Kurt explained.

“It’s
not just a mindless ghost hunting show like I thought,” Kayla added. “She goes
into a lot of history and culture, and it’s more about the hunt than about any
made-up paranormal crap. She definitely knows what she’s doing. And she’s got
this hilarious little dog. You should have seen him attacking shadows in the
Tower of London. I was rolling. I can’t believe we didn’t know about this
before. I’m going to watch it all the time now.”

Philip
shook his head and was tempted to tell them to get back to work, but that was
just because he was grumpy. They were allowed a dinner break. He stepped out of
the trailer again, heading back toward the ferry. He could see from a distance that
the nitwit appeared to be filming.

Lucy
Nelson was the nitwit’s name. She was little and blonde and dressed in the most
idiotic outfit for a dig. He could see even from the distance.

He
strode over, taking off the hat he wore and rubbing his head. The sun didn’t
set in the Orkney Islands in July, so he wore a hat almost constantly. There
were a few hours of dim light in the middle of the night, but otherwise it was
light all day long.

When
he reached the dock, the shooting had stopped, and the nitwit was bending over,
feeding something to a fluffy dog.

She
did have a luscious ass, he couldn’t help but notice, no matter how ludicrous
her skirt and heels.

Philip’s
career was all-consuming to him, and he’d pretty much given up on relationships.
He’d been married twice, but both of them were humiliating failures. He was
still interested in sex—very interested in sex—but fourteen or sixteen hours a
day working in his office during the school year and trips to field sites at
every single break didn't lend itself to a long-term relationship. And he’d
concluded it just wasn’t worth the disaster that a romantic relationship would
inevitably become.

He
wasn’t opposed to the occasional one-night stand, but he’d given up on those a
couple of years ago after a woman simply wouldn’t leave him alone afterwards.
He’d had to call in university security, which had been rather embarrassing.

Since
then, he’d just gone without sex. There were simpler ways to take care of his
physical urges. Some people weren’t cut out for romantic attachments. He’d
always been one of those people.

He
had nothing against women. He’d known many intelligent and impressive women.
He’d known women who could blow him out of the water intellectually.

He
did, however, have something against empty-headed bimbos who leveraged their
bodies and the superstitions of the ignorant to gain money and temporary fame.

Lucy
Nelson, as far as he was concerned, was one of those women.

***

Lucy stood up from
giving Arthur a treat for performing well during filming with the unquestionable
feeling of being watched.

She
understood why when she saw the archaeologist standing off to one side from the
dock, watching her.

She
couldn’t see him very well because he was standing with his back to the
lowering sun, but he wore khaki pants, hiking boots, and a beige Oxford shirt
with the sleeves rolled up. His hat wasn’t really an
Indiana Jones
fedora, but it had a wide brim like the kind worn by every other archaeologist
she’d ever met.

He
was definitely an archaeologist, and something about his stance made her think
he wasn’t all that happy to see her.

She
was used to annoyance and frustration at her presence, particularly from
academics who weren’t familiar with her show and assumed the worst. She put on
her best smile and walked over to him.

“Hi,”
she began, “I’m Lucy Nels—
Philip
?” She froze, her hand
half-outstretched, when she got close enough to see his face.

Even
with the hat covering his short, golden-brown hair, there was no mistaking his
patrician features and too-intelligent blue eyes. Even after so many years, she
would have recognized him anywhere.

“Lucy?
Lucy Moore?” he asked, studying her face in astonishment. At least he was no
more prepared for this encounter than she was.

“I
haven’t been Lucy Moore in years.” She managed to recover enough to not act
like a complete fool, even though her heart was beating wildly and she felt
like she was seventeen again.

“You’re
married?” He’d shaken her hand, saving her from lowering it and feeling even
more awkward.

“I
was married for about five minutes. But that was when my show really started
taking off, so I kept the name Nelson professionally.” She was pleased that she
sounded pleasant and neutral.

She
didn’t feel neutral at all.

He
looked older now—he
was
older—with character or too much sun etching
little lines beside his mouth and eyes. He was still tall and lean with broad
shoulders and strength in his posture, but it felt somehow like he took up more
space than he used to.

He
didn’t look different enough. Seeing him now dredged up all of her old hurt,
disappointment, betrayal, and resentment. Her breathing quickened as she tried
to swallow over it. Tried not to remember how he’d crushed her when she’d been
seventeen.

“I’ve
lost track of almost everyone from back home,” he said. He sounded perfectly
courteous, but he wasn’t really smiling. He looked watchful more than anything
else. “It appears you’ve made a success of your show. Congratulations.”

The
way he said the word “show” made it clear he didn’t approve. It wasn’t a
completely unusual reaction, but her shoulders stiffened just the same. “Thank
you. So you went into archaeology? If you’d ever crossed my mind, I would have
assumed you’d still be working in politics with your mom.”

During
her freshman year in college, she’d interned on a political campaign for Philip’s
mother, who was running for Congress. Lucy had been excited about the opportunity
because it gave her hands-on experience in a political campaign, which had been
her career path back then. She’d been double-majoring in Marketing and
Political Science and thought she’d end up as some sort of hotshot political
operative in D.C.

An
additional perk of the internship had been the chance to work with Philip.

He’d
recently graduated from college and was working on his mother’s campaign
full-time, instead of going to graduate school in history, which she’d learned
he’d originally wanted to do. He was smart and sexy and fascinating and six
years older than her.

She’d
skipped a grade in elementary school, so she was just seventeen for most of her
freshman year in college. She could hardly be blamed for falling for him.

At
least, that was what she tried to tell herself now.

“She
was disappointed,” he said. “But it got to where I didn’t really have a choice.”

She
was dying to ask him why he’d changed his mind—since he’d told her more than
once back then that he felt he really needed to work with his mom, despite his
personal preferences—but she bit her tongue over the question. She shouldn’t
care about how Philip had spent his life. He’d made it clear ages ago that they
would never even be friends.

“And,
yeah,” Philip continued. “I went into archaeology.”

“You’re
the field supervisor here?”

“I
am.”

“Well,
okay. I guess you’ll be showing me around then. This is my cameraman, Sawyer,
and my assistant, Dana.”

Dana
and Sawyer were shooting Lucy curious glances, obviously dying to ask what her
surprising connection and history was with the archaeologist.

Philip
shook hands with both of them, his greeting as polite and as cool as his
greeting to her. Then he picked up a couple of their bags without asking and
told them he’d show them where they’d be staying.

Lucy
assumed they’d be staying in one of the trailers, since they were the only form
of habitation on the island.

“We’re
rather low-tech here,” Philip said, looking at her over his shoulder, as if
he’d read her mind. “I hope you won’t mind.” His voice made it sound like he
expected her to mind.

“We’ve
slept in tents in the Amazon rainforest. A trailer will be fine. You have
electricity, I assume?”

“We
have a generator. And satellite internet. But that’s the extent of our
luxuries.” He’d reached the door to one of the trailers and set down the bags
he carried. As he waited for Dana and Sawyer to catch up, his eyes scanned her
from windblown hair to very high heels.

She
waited for him to comment on how inappropriate her outfit was for an
archaeological dig. She’d heard it dozens of times before. He didn’t, however.

“We
have a room in here we use for our infrequent guests,” he explained. “Would you
and Dana like to take it, or would you rather have your own room?”

Lucy
quickly decided that—even though it might be more proper for her to share with
Dana—Dana and Sawyer would be highly annoyed if she didn’t give them the room
together. So she said, “They’ll be happy to stay here.”

Philip
nodded. “Then your room is in the other trailer.”

They
showed the sleeping arrangements to Dana and Sawyer, which was evidently more
than acceptable. It appeared to Lucy that most of the students bunked down in
the room next door in the same trailer. She wondered if they took turns in the
private room when there weren’t guests or if there was some sort of ranking
system.

When
they’d sorted out the luggage and equipment, Philip picked up Lucy’s bag and
carried it over to the next trailer. He showed her into a small, neat room with
a single bed with drawers underneath and small table with a lamp and alarm
clock on it.

“Whose
room is this?” she asked.

“Mine.”

“Oh.”
Her eyes widened. He didn’t appear resentful about her displacing him, but he
obviously would prefer to not have her here at all. She hated the idea of
kicking him out of his room and being beholden to him. “I can sleep somewhere
else. I don’t have to—“

“There’s
nowhere else.”

“Where
will you sleep?”

“In
the office. Next door.”

She
swallowed. “I can sleep in the office.”

“Don’t
be ridiculous, Lucy.”

Something
about his voice brought back memories. He’d used that same tone with her when
she first started on his mom’s campaign, before he’d gotten to know her—half
impatient and half patronizing.

She
hadn’t appreciated it then, and she definitely didn’t appreciate it now. She
tightened her lips and told herself no good would come of snapping at him.
“Thank you,” she gritted out.

He
completely ignored her thanks. “There’s food, if you're hungry. The kitchen is
in the other trailer. Just help yourself. We get started early in the morning.
Around five.”

“That’s
fine. We might look around some tonight.”

“You
can. Just don’t disturb any of the dig sites. I can’t stress that enough.”

She
wanted to roll her eyes but managed to convey her annoyance without the
adolescent gesture. “I’ve been to numerous digs before, you know. I know how to
behave.”

“Do
you?” Again, his eyes scanned her body, leaving her feeling
uncharacteristically self-conscious. “It doesn’t get dark here in July, you
know. You’re going to have trouble pretending to see ghosts and monsters behind
every shadow.”

Her
shoulders stiffened. “I never pretend to see ghosts and monsters.”

“So
you really see them?”

“Many
times we leave a location with absolutely no evidence of paranormal activity.
But sometimes things occur that have no explanation. There’s more to this world
than science can explain.”

“There’s
nothing here to find except through hard, tedious excavation.” For the first
time, his blue eyes flashed something like anger rather than the cold apathy
he’d conveyed to her before.

“Then
I won’t find anything.” Her heart was beating faster now, and she’d clenched
her hands at her sides. She wondered if he’d get angry.

She
almost wanted him too. Anything was better than this cool, reserved stranger.

But
he suppressed whatever impulse he’d been feeling and took a step back. “I hope
you won’t feel you’ve wasted your time here.”

She
wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that—whether it was an insult or an attempt
to be civil. She stared after him as he walked away, his strong strides and
lean body masculine and powerful.