Guarding the Treasure (7 page)

Sophie relished in the quietness of the university campus. Summer classes didn't start for another two weeks, and her plan not to teach set her mind at ease, allowing an unusual calmness to settle in. She opened the door to her office, first glancing at the marks on her calendar. It had been three weeks since she had sent an e-mail in response to Professor Smith's post. Why hadn't he responded? She really wanted to dig into the diary but needed help reading it accurately.
Maybe I should try to contact someone else
, she thought, pushing the button to boot up her computer. Then Kevin's words filled her mind. “I have a friend in New York that would be happy to interpret the diary, and besides, she owes me one.” She leaned back in her chair remembering how he had bent down, getting much too close for an answer. And that sultry look of his—it alone brought a smile as well as the thought of their time together after dinner a few weeks ago. He'd jumped out of the car, ran to open the door for her, and then just stood looking at her with those expectant eyes, the same look she'd gotten from Jeffrey most Friday nights. She shouldn't have laughed. It had been obvious from the puzzled look on his face that it threw him, and she even wondered if she'd hurt his feelings. But hat thought had been dismissed after he asked if she was in the mood to research some of the entries in the diary.

Sophie's attention was brought back to her work by a message in her inbox. It was a response from Professor Smith. She nervously clicked to open it.

“Ms. Hanes, I would be delighted to look at the diary in your possession. It sounds like a perfect document for my research. I would like to get started as quickly as possible. Please follow the instructions below as to how we will communicate. Also, you had made a comment about visiting our lovely Ireland in the near future. If your plans come to fruition, please allow me to be your host. It would bring me great delight to visit with a young professor from America. Your stay would be one to remember, Sincerely, Professor Kian Smith.”

Sophie touched her cheeks. Her face flushed at such a wonderful invitation, not to mention the fact that the professor was going to do the work she had requested.

“It looks like I won't need your services after all Mr. Gates,” she said, rereading the e-mail. She would begin to fax pages to the professor as soon as she got home.

“I think I'll call Kevin and give him the good news.” Too late, her phone rang in mid-thought. She checked the number—K. Gates. Sophie smiled as she pushed talk. “Hey, I was just thinking of calling you.”

“Great minds think alike!” His voice was laced with a light laugh. “Sophie, the reason I'm calling is I talked to my friend in New York, and she's agreed to read and rewrite the diary for you. Are you interested?”

“That's so funny, I just received word that Professor Smith is anxious to start going through the diary himself, and Kevin—get this—he's offered to be my host if I decide to visit the country this summer. Isn't that amazing?” The line fell oddly silent. She looked to see that they were still connected. “Kevin, are you still on the line?”

Red flags were flying everywhere in Kevin's mind. There were things about his last trip to Ireland he had not told Sophie about. He hadn't told anyone except for a very few close associates why he'd traveled there and what his assignment had really been. “Yeah, I'm still here. Hey, do you have plans for dinner tonight?” he asked, sounding more serious than he'd wanted.

She sensed an immediate mood change, but why? “No, no plans. Would you like to come over? It's not Friday, and Jeffrey won't be at my door,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Good, I'll see you around six then?”

Her eyes tapered in question. “Yes, six is fine.”

“Okay. See you a little later.”

She lowered the phone from her ear.
Strange, I'm sure he'll tell me what's up this evening
, she thought, her mind still pondering his abrupt reaction.

 

Kevin pulled into Sophie's drive, taking note of the area as he walked to the front door. He noticed that Jeffrey, the friendly neighbor, had pulled into his driveway just ahead of him and was leaning against his car, watching his every move. Kevin gave a wave as he walked up the steps. He made a fist and pounded hard on the front door.

“Hey,” he yelled loudly, turning slightly to see the effect on the faithful neighbor. “I know you're in there, so you better open up,” he smirked, trying not to blow his cover.

Sophie swung the door open, already laughing at the sound of his voice. “Kevin, that's not very nice,” she whispered, giving Jeffrey a neighborly wave. “He's a good guy—he watches out for me,” she said, holding the door for him.

Kevin looked at her, a grin still on his face. He knew what Jeffrey wanted, and if he had any brains in his head, he would have taken a few different tactics to get it. But the guy was too late now, Kevin thought, giving Jeffrey one last look as he closed the door. He wasn't giving any guy a chance to get too close to this girl. He was going to do everything he knew how to win this beautiful college professor.

“What's in your hand?” Sophie asked, still laughing at the way he had messed with Jeffrey.

“I decided we'd celebrate your diary tonight.” He pulled out a bottle of chilled white wine from the brown bag.

“Mr. Gates, I thought you didn't drink!” She laughed, taking the bottle to the kitchen.

He followed close behind, admiring the view. “Usually I don't, but this is a special occasion, and besides, I needed it to finish an undercover news article about local businesses carding for controlled substances. I paid for it myself, so I thought I'd keep it.”

Her laugh still lingered from his antics with Jeffrey, and now this. “So how did our fair city do in complying with the law?” she asked, popping the cork and pouring a small amount into two coffee cups.

“Tune in at ten, my dear, for the answer to that cliff-hanging question,” he said over the rim of his cup. He rarely talked about work and wanted to keep it that way. The fewer people knew, the safer they would be—at least that's what he'd been taught and what he'd practiced for the last several years. And why talk business when he could admire how snuggly Sophie's skirt fit over her body, and how completely gorgeous she was, top to bottom? He took another drink, swallowing slowly. His eyes, as well as his thoughts, continued to travel as she moved around the kitchen. Her eyes seemed darker tonight, and the way her hair brushed her cheeks gave a shy seductive look to her face.

She gets better every time I see her
, he thought, wishing his hands were holding her close and his lips were pressed hard onto hers.

“You look amazing,” he said with a whisper.

“What did you say?”

He cleared his throat. He needed to go in a different direction, fast. “I was thinking we could read, or at least attempt to read, from the diary tonight,” he said, tipping his cup back to get the last drop of wine.

“What about dinner? It's ready unless you'd like to eat later.”

“No, now is great,” he said, taking the mitts from her. He lifted the dish from the oven and placed it on a waiting cooling rack.

“So what can you tell me about this Professor Smith?” he asked, tossing the mitts on the counter. Kevin wanted information about this Smith guy and the trip that surrounded the diary. He wanted to know everything about her pending vacation.

Be casual
, he directed himself,
and don't be too obvious in the way you get information from her
. The last thing he wanted was for Sophie to think he didn't trust her to handle her own plans or that she was a poor judge of character in being flattered by the invitation of some unknown professor. He just wanted to do some checking, ease his mind, and make sure this would be a safe thing for her. He waited for some kind of response, but he just looked at him with those I'm not telling you anything right now eyes. He smiled. In time, Kev, in time, he told himself.

 

“Dinner was wonderful, Sophie,” Kevin said, his arm brushing hers as he sat down beside her on the floor.

“Thank you, and thanks for the wine.” She held the bottle up, exposing the bottom. “Look, we've almost finished it.”

He smiled as he took the bottle from her hand. He, too, held up the tinted glass, a surprised look settling on his face.

“You know, for two people who don't drink, it certainly didn't take us long to finish it,” he joked, lightly shaking the contents back and forth. “But hey, it cost less than forty bucks,” he said, trading the bottle for her hands. He bent, lightly kissing her fingertips. “Whoa,” he said, feeling his head spin. He lifted his face to meet Sophie's. His eyebrows rose. “My thoughts are a little muddled right now,” he said, trying to blink his confusion away. “But Sophie, all I've been able to think about this evening is that I'm so glad to be with you. A week in New York was too long to be away.” Without another word, he leaned in and kissed her exposed neck, allowing his lips to travel, his hands following right behind to her shoulders.

“I felt a little lonely this past week, too,” she said, trying to decide if she wanted to move from his embrace.

He pressed his lips to hers, trying to make the kiss last. She pulled away with no explanation, offering only a shy smile.

“Kevin, let's look at the next entry in the diary. I marked it,” she said, reaching for the book. “Here it is. The entry we talked about the last time you were here.”

“Right now?” he asked, feeling the sting of second place to a book. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to remember what they had read last. He couldn't concentrate. His mind was swimming with aroused emotion and cheap wine, the combination of which was doing things to his entire body, things that had nothing to do with books, professors, or trips. He wanted to touch this woman, to continue where they'd left off just seconds ago. Why couldn't she see what he was feeling when he looked at her? Why did she always conveniently change the subject or worse yet, move away? The woman drove him crazy.

Sophie pointed to the middle of page twenty-nine. “Can you make any sense of it?” she asked as she pushed the diary into his hands.

Kevin pulled away and slumped into the couch, the diary planted in his right hand. Sophie waited a minute before joining him. He propped the book up against his knees and began to focus in on a few key words.

“This looks like the final line of someone who's dying. I only recognize a few of the words, but it says that she enjoyed her life, her regrets were few, and she will love her children to her death. There are a few more sentences, but I don't recognize the words, Sophie. Sorry.”

Kevin turned the page, and then flipped back again to page twenty-nine, his brow furrowed. “This is interesting,” he said, putting the diary on the coffee table and sitting up to get a better look. “See this?” He pointed to an entry on the next page. “The handwriting is different on page thirty than it is on page twenty-nine.”

Sophie examined the writing. “You're right, but how can that be?”

“That's simple. The owner of the diary died, and someone found it and started using it, but the bigger question is who?” He tapped his fingers on the table. “It could be someone in the family, or perhaps after the person died, it was given away and a stranger used it. We'll be able to find out as we read the entries that start on page thirty.”

Kevin felt Sophie's eyes on him, not the diary. He turned his head. Her eyes held an element of surprise—or disbelief. He wasn't sure, nor did it matter. At that moment, she was thinking about him, he could tell.

“You're beautiful, Sophie.” The declaration came unexpectedly from his lips, without thought, without intent, simply natural. Kevin leaned toward her, wrapping her hair in his hand, slowly pulling her close to him. His lips touched hers. Sophie's lips were sweet and warm, just as they had been a few minutes earlier. He watched her close her eyes to enjoy what had been on his mind all evening. But—

There she was, pulling away from him again, cutting their embrace shorter than he would have liked.

“What's the matter?”

Her cheeks reddened. “I didn't mean for that to happen, Kevin, I mean, leading you on like that. Something just came over me.”

“And that's a bad thing? Honest to God, Sophie, I don't get you.”

“You amaze me,” she said. “The way you think, the way you know things, and…”

“I'm sitting with one of the most intelligent, beautiful women I know, and you think
I'm
something special? Come on, Sophie, you're the one with the school title, the one with an antique diary, and you're the one planning a trip to Ireland, which I think I should be going on with you.”

“What? Are you crazy?” she said, standing and moving decisively away from him. “I told you Professor Smith offered be my host and show me around. I don't need you with me, and I've already faxed several pages of the diary to him so you don't have to trouble your friend in New York about reading it for me.”

“Speaking of,” he purposely ignored her last comment, “would you mind if I made a copy of it for myself?” He asked, meeting her unspoken challenge.

The two stood in silence. Kevin gave a short agitated sigh then turned and picked up the diary again, examining page thirty-two. And with that, the tension between them vanished.

“This is not good.” His eyes widened as his thoughts raced back to three years ago when he was on assignment in Ireland. He could make out the beginning but couldn't understand all of the words that followed.

“What Kevin? What's not good?” Sophie asked, inching closer to see what he was reading.

“The second person writing in the diary isn't a stranger. The second writer is the daughter of the woman who died. Her life has taken a painful turn, Sophie. My guess is that it's one that's going to change her life forever.”