Excavated (5 page)

“I
have been perfectly nice,” he replied, knowing as he said the words that they
were a lie. He was smart and driven and occasionally obsessed.

He
was very rarely nice.

“You
haven’t been nice at all," she argued. "And, if you expect me to not
snap your head off all the time, you’re going to have to reciprocate.”

“I
haven’t once snapped your head off.” For some insane reason, he was enjoying
the almost whimsical give-and-take of the argument. It had been a really long
time since he’d enjoyed banter for the sake of banter.

“You’ve
been cold and condescending, which anyone will tell you is worse than snapping
one’s head off.”

He
knew her words were true, but he wasn’t about to acknowledge it. “I would like
to see some evidence of this coldness and condescension you purport.”

Her
lips twitched helplessly as she tried to suppress a smile, her humor obviously
tickled by his dry, lofty response.

Unlike
the previous night, she lost the battle. Her face broke into a glowing smile,
and she turned her head to hide it behind the hair slipping out of her clip.

“Damn
it, Philip,” she gritted out, her voice shaking with what sounded like
laughter. “You’re just impossible.”

Philip
was mesmerized—by the soft warmth in her face, by the laughter in her voice,
and by the cleverness and wit that were utterly irrepressible in her.

He
took a step closer and, without thinking, brought a hand up to brush the hair
out of her face so he could see more of her expression. “That claim is too
abstract to be verified and can thus be immediately dismissed,” he murmured,
something coiling tightly inside him.

Laughter
rippled out of her, clear evidence that he'd scored a victory. “Damn you, Philip,”
she said at last.

She
hadn’t pulled away, even though he hadn’t lowered his hand. Her eyes slowly
transformed from amusement to something hotter as she gazed up at him.

Acting
only on instinct, he leaned down and brushed her lips with his.

He
heard her quick intake of breath. Then he felt one of her hands flatten against
his chest.

But
she wasn’t pushing him away, and her lips softened against his as he brushed
them again.

The
kiss deepened so quickly Philip had no idea how it happened. Pleasure and need
uncoiled inside him, and he took her head in both of his hands. One of Lucy’s
arms wrapped around his neck, and he could feel all of her soft warmth against
his body.

She
opened for him, and then their tongues tangled together. The whole world pulsed
with pleasure, with hunger, as he gave himself over to the kiss.

He
heard her moan softly against his mouth, and his body tightened in response.

He
wanted her. He couldn’t remember wanting anything more.

Then
suddenly she pulled away from him, one hand going up to cover her mouth.

Philip
stood stiffly and blinked, muddle-headed and halfway aroused. He’d clearly lost
his mind for a few minutes, and he wasn’t sure how to get it back

She
stared at him in silence for a long moment, something almost aching in her eyes,
despite her panting breaths and her deeply flushed cheeks. Then she said in a
hoarse whisper, “Damn you, Philip.”

It
wasn’t laughter in her voice now. He wasn’t sure
what
it was.

He
didn’t have time to find out before she turned around and walked into her room
of the trailer, closing the door behind her.

“So…”

Lucy
blinked at Dana. “So what?”

“So
are you going to tell me about that hot archaeologist or not?”

Lucy
actually felt her cheeks flushing a little—which was absolutely ridiculous—but
she couldn't help but laugh at her assistant's wry impudence. “There’s nothing
to tell.”

“Don’t
give me that. You knew him before. I know that much. And I’m definitely sensing
some chemistry.”

Lucy
pulled on the jacket to her vintage suit. It was a dusty lavender color with a
pencil skirt and a fur collar. It was feminine and flattering and entirely
impractical, which was the point, of course. “If by chemistry you mean I’d be
happy to claw his eyes out most of time, then guilty.”

“Did
you go out with him before?”

“No.
I knew him when I was in college. We were sort of friends for a while, and then
we were nothing. That was it.”

“Are
you sure?” Dana asked, bringing over a choker of braided pearls she’d picked
out for Lucy to wear for the shoot that evening. “Because it seems very
sparkish between the two of you.”

“It
is not sparkish,” Lucy insisted. “I don’t even like him, and he was mostly a
jerk back then. I was a teenager, and he was in his twenties. There was
definitely nothing romantic between us.”

She
checked out her appearance in the mirror and then put her pearl drop earrings
on. As she thought about her foolish feelings for Philip in the past, she felt
all of the old hurt and humiliation simmering back up.

“What
did he do to make you hate him so much?” Dana obviously noticed something in
the way Lucy was glaring into the small mirror.

Lucy
shook her head. “It’s a long time ago.”

“It
still seems to bother you. Did he break your heart or something?”

He
had. She’d thought she was in love with him. For a while, she hadn’t thought
there was any sort of hope, but gradually they’d gotten closer. He’d seem to
open up with her.

She’d
let herself dream. Even after the kiss and his immediate, urgent attempts to
make it clear it was an accidental aberration, she thought she would have
gotten over it if they could have remained friends. Whether or not he wanted a romantic
relationship with her, she’d still thought she genuinely meant something to
him.

But
he’d dropped her. He’d gotten a new girlfriend, and he’d forgotten she even
existed.

One
day they were friends. Then he’d kissed her.

And
the next day she was nothing to him.

“I
was stupid,” she admitted. “I thought I meant something to him. Not
romantically—but just...just as a person.”

Dana’s
expression had changed. The teasing faded, and her eyes reflected sympathy and
deep understanding. “And you didn't mean anything to him?”

She
shook her head with a long sigh. “I was a girl. I was stupid.”

“I
can’t imagine you ever being stupid.”

Lucy
laughed for real—the bitterness fading into the background of her mind where it
belonged. “I was a model of stupidity. Believe me. But at least I learned my
lessons young.”

“What
lessons?”

Lucy
bit her lip. She’d learned not to be led around by her feelings, not to trust
that—just because a man acted like he cared for her—he actually did. She’d
learned that it was better to hold back her heart until she knew for sure it
was safe.

After
one failed marriage and three failed engagements, she was still convinced those
lessons were valid.

It
sounded too bitter, though, and she didn’t want Dana to think she was like
that. So she grinned brightly and said, “I learned that just because a man
gazes soulfully at you, just because he kisses you, doesn’t mean he actually
wants to hang out with you.”

Dana
laughed, as she was supposed to, and Lucy was relieved that the subject had
dropped.

It
would have been nice to laugh it off for real—the memory of being rejected by Philip.

She
couldn’t. She didn’t think about it much anymore but, when she did, it still
hurt.

***

Philip should have just
gone to bed, but he didn’t.

No
matter how uncomfortable the couch in the office of his trailer was, it at least
provided a place to sleep, and he was tired after a couple of long days and
sleepless night.

But
tonight was the first time Lucy and her crew would be shooting, and he was
naturally curious. He wanted to know how they were going to portray his island
and his dig.

So
he sat outside his office with his laptop on his lap, as if he was in the habit
of working outside.

He
did have some work to do. He hadn't checked his email yesterday or today, and
he hated to think how it might be piling up.

He
might as well clear out his inbox this evening, since he wasn’t going to get
any sleep.

He
blinked when Lucy came out of the other room of the trailer, dressed in a
ridiculous fur-trimmed skirt suit that cinched at the waist and showed off the
lush curve of her ass. She had on another pair of four-inch heels like she’d
been wearing when she arrived on the island, and her hair was styled around her
face in a tumble of soft waves.

The
look she slanted him when she noticed him sitting close by, however, was
anything but soft.

The
camera man, Sawyer, came loping over, and Philip listened as they briefly
discussed where to start—on the east side or the west side of the standing
stones.

From
what Lucy had told him earlier that day, it would take dozens of hours of
shooting to edit down to her ninety-minute episode.

He
watched as Lucy walked over toward the ring of Erland’s impressive standing
stones. She walked easily, despite her heels, and she didn't give him a second
glance.

He
couldn't help but think about what she’d been like before—small and bright and
quicksilver, like a glint of light, transforming any room she walked into with
her wit and glowing smile.

He'd
wanted that in his life far more than he ever should have.

He
shook the thoughts away.

He
was used to controlling himself better than this. The reappearance of one
random woman from his past wasn't going to change that. Not even the way his
body still reacted to the memory of their kiss the night before.

He
watched from a distance as they set up the shoot and Lucy narrated a segment,
showing off the spooky shadows of the stones in the half-light of the summer
evening. He couldn't hear what she was saying from this distance, but he didn't
need to. He could interpret her gestures and the way she walked slowly from
stone to stone.

His
fond memories faded to resentment as he watched. This site was rich with
history, these powerful remnants left as silent witnesses to the lives of so
many people who had lived so long ago.

And
Lucy was turning it into a ghost story.

After
a while, she stopped doing her narration, and she instead walked with Sawyer
around the stones, pointing out various vantages to film.

Philip
eventually went back to his email, since there wasn't much to see.

He
glanced up regularly, though, to see if anything had changed.

He
actually stood up, more than an hour later, when he looked up to see Lucy
talking and gesturing urgently.

He
walked slowly toward them, curious about what had so distracted her.

As
he approached, he heard her say, “There it is again. Did you get it?”

“What
is it?” Dana asked. “It sounds like someone is wailing. No wonder they think
ancient warriors haunt this site.”

“Shh,”
Lucy ordered, waving her hand at the others. “Just listen so we can find where
it’s coming from.”

Philip
was pretty sure he knew the source of the sound that had gotten them so excited—and
it wasn’t a manufactured practical joke like the other night—but he didn’t say
anything as he walked closer, smiling in private amusement when they started to
hurry around the henge, stopping here and there to identify the direction of
the high-pitched howling.

He’d
heard it many times before, although it only happened when the wind was blowing
in a particular direction.

They’d
started walking again—Philip following from a distance—when Lucy glanced back
and saw him.

“Philip,”
she said, gesturing toward him, “Make yourself useful. What is that mournful
sound?”

“The
ghosts of lost warriors, bemoaning the loss of their lives and their home.”

Lucy
completely ignored his sarcasm. “I assume it’s from the wind, but I can’t find
what’s causing it.”

She
looked so genuinely interested and excited—even without the prospect of a
paranormal cause—that Philip nodded toward the barrow. “It is the wind. It’s
over there.”

“Show
me.” She gestured toward Sawyer to keep filming as she started walking in the
direction Philip had indicated.

He
put his hand on her back as they walked. He told himself it was just to get her
going in the right direction, but he felt a weird possessive urge as he did so.

He
dropped his hand when he recognized it.

They
walked to the east entrance of the barrow. It was dark inside, so Lucy took a
flashlight from Dana and shined it into the darkness of the tomb.

“We
don’t have to go too far in,” Philip told her.

She
sucked in an indignant breath at the implications. “I’m not scared. You have no
idea how many ancient tombs I've entered.”

To
prove her point, she started to walk in, but she missed a step as the ground
descended slightly.

Philip
reached out instinctively to stabilize her, and he tried to ignore the fact
that one his hands ended up on her very fine ass.

Only
a few steps in, he showed her the narrow opening between the stones where the
wind whistled when it blew in a particular direction.

She
was fascinated by it, and she made sure Sawyer filmed it from various
perspectives.

Then
she did a short segment where she explained with a vivid smile how this might
explain a lot of the legends of haunting that had built up around the site.

Despite
himself, Philip was impressed. Not just with how charming and articulate she
was, but also with how she wasn't trying to make something supernatural out of
a very natural occurrence.

It
wasn't what he’d expected from her show.

She
thanked him afterwards in a tone that made it clear he was dismissed.

It
was late, and he really should get a couple of hours of sleep—since he had to
get up early the following day—so he didn't object to her obvious attempt to
get rid of him.

He
only stopped when he heard her say, as he was walking away, “Sawyer, just make
sure we edit out the part where he was groping my ass.”

***

Several hours later, Lucy
returned to the trailer, pleased with a good night of filming.

She
was exhausted, but she’d have a chance to sleep some this morning before
Michael McPherson arrived in the afternoon for an on-camera interview on Orkney
lore.

She
let out a long breath, starting to relax, as she walked into her bedroom.
Arthur ran in too and immediately curled up on his blanket, evidently exhausted
from the long day.

Lucy
jerked to a stop with a choked sound of surprise when she saw someone was
already in the room.

It
was Philip, she recognized immediately. His golden-brown head was unmistakable,
even though his back was to her, kneeling down on the floor looking in one of
the built-in drawers under the bed.

His
back was very fine—with broad shoulders and smooth lines tapering down to his
waist. She could see it very clearly, since he wasn't wearing a shirt.

He
stood up abruptly and turned around when he heard her.

He
had a shirt in his hand.

“Sorry.
I hadn't taken enough clothes out before you arrived.”

She
blinked at the sight of his bare chest. As she’d noticed the other night, it
was a gorgeous chest. Masculine, with firm abs and pleasing musculature but
nothing bulky or ungainly.

“It’s
fine,” she managed to say. “I guess you’re getting up as I’m going to bed.”

“Yeah.
We start early.”

“I
know.”

They
stared at each other for a minute. Their brief encounter that night hadn't been
awkward, since Sawyer and Dana had been in attendance and the topic had been
professional.

But
now Lucy couldn't help but think about kissing him the night before. It hadn't
even gone very far—just a little tongue—but it had still managed to take her
breath away.

“Did
you get the filming done you were hoping?” he asked, his voice sounding
slightly hoarse, which surprised her, since he was usually so controlled.