Читать книгу One Night With The Texan - Lauren Canan - Страница 9

Three

Three months later

Tallie looked around her at the open farmland extending as far as her eyes could see. A river snaked through the golden, knee-high wheat, feeding huge trees that grew sporadically in giant clumps near its edge. An old trapper’s shack that a sneeze could probably blow down sat under the branches of a giant, towering oak. To the east were cliffs, their dark red composite a vivid contrast to the white-gold of the wheat. Dark impressions on the face of the cliffs gave indication of caves, which could have at one time been home to ancient people.

It had taken her an enormous effort to get the huge bulldozers and other machinery to shut down on this site. But she’d finally ascertained which man was the head of this operation and waved the court document under his nose. Now, with the motors of the huge machines turned off, only the sound of the wind blowing through the wheat and the occasional call of a bird remained.

Somehow in this mass of timber, cliffs and cultivated soil that went on for miles she was supposed to find confirmation that an ancient people had, at one time, existed. A tribe of Native Americans never referenced in any record book in history. Never mentioned by scholars or spoken of in the homes of the people. Except one: her paternal grandmother’s. The day before she’d died.

When a person so dear to her heart asked Tallie to find her people and, with trembling hands, opened her palm and dropped a tiny token into hers, Tallie had no other option but to promise she would do as asked. A sense of calm had overtaken her ipokini and, with a smile, she’d handed Tallie one other item: a doeskin about two feet square, rolled and tied with a braid of leather.

On the inside of the doeskin was a crude, hand-drawn map. One large area, marked in faded red powder, must relate to what her grandmother had asked her to find. It encompassed an area from a river on the west where the water washed the roots of a massive oak tree to just beyond cliffs to the east. At various points inside the red circle were rudimentary images similar to those found in caves. A horse. A deer. A warrior with a lance. A teepee village. At the top, a cryptic design indicated mountains. Across the bottom the word Oshahunntee. The tribe of no existence. Like many of the words taught by her grandmother, it was also unknown to all but a few.

Her ipokini was not a wealthy woman. Her gold was encased in a heart as big as Texas and spread among all the people she’d helped for almost one hundred years. For her to give Tallie something that must have been so special to her was a great honor. Tallie had promised her then—and in her heart now—that she wouldn’t let her down.

She had been surprised when her boss, the chief curator at the museum where she’d worked the past three months, not only okayed her request to do this search but had, in fact, become quite excited when she’d showed him the map. Instead of making her take a leave, Dr. Sterling had endorsed it as an approved dig for the museum, though Tallie would have to cover her own personal expenses. Dr. Sterling had even been able to point her to the part of Texas the map seemed to describe. Now, with the court’s backing to explore the site, only one thing might stand between her and discovery. She was pregnant.

Dr. Sterling had voiced his concern about her condition and made her promise to check in regularly. He couldn’t spare another associate to send with her and had made it clear she would be on her own. She’d convinced him she was fine. And she was. Or soon would be. Beginning her third month of pregnancy, she was almost over the morning sickness. At least, she hoped so.

Discovering she was pregnant from her night in New Orleans had been a life-changing moment. Her memories of the encounter were so hazy, it was almost as if she’d been in a blackout. But she was left with a very real reminder of what had happened. She had no hope of finding the father, and initially, her dreams of the future had gone out the window. She couldn’t imagine traveling the world on archeological expeditions with a baby. Yet as the idea of having one settled into her mind and filled her heart, she made peace with it. Other single mothers worked and raised their children. She could, too. Admittedly, she would have to halt travel to remote sites until the baby was old enough, but just because she didn’t have a regular nine-to-five didn’t mean she’d have to throw away years of study just to be a mother.

But right now she would concentrate on the present and take the future one step at a time. She was healthy and happy and determined to find the proof of the lost tribe as she’d promised her grandmother she would. At least, she had to try.

A chill went down her spine at the thought that the lost tribe might actually prove to have existed. But why had her grandmother waited until she was dying to tell her? And where had the map been all these years? She’d spent a lot of time at her ipokini’s house as a child and had never seen it or anything like it. Tallie could only suppose her grandmother had her reasons and all she could do now was accept that some things would never be explained.

Clutching the court-issued injunction in her hand, she took another look around. The paperwork required the owner of the property to halt all operations for ninety days so that she could search for relics. She would concentrate on the present and take the future one step at a time.

Suddenly the wind kicked up, blowing her long hair in every direction. She fought to catch it at the back of her head and then pulled a band from the pocket of her jeans and secured it in a rough knot on her crown. The sound of a helicopter in the distance shattered the silence. It was coming toward her and not wasting any time, soon landing a safe distance from where she stood between the old trapper’s hut and the river. She didn’t have to be told who it was. Cole Masters, billionaire eight-times-over and owner of this land, had arrived. Dr. Sterling had mentioned she might receive some resistance from this man, whose reputation for doing things his way preceded him.

The man who emerged from the chopper was big. Broad shoulders, his biceps bulging beneath the rolled-up sleeves of the white-silk dress shirt. A blue tie had been loosened at the neck to accommodate the unbuttoned top of his shirt. Honey-brown eyes were emphasized by dark lashes. His short, dark brown hair and his thick beard gave him the look of a warrior. His chiseled jaw was set for a fight. His full lips were drawn into a line of disapproval and those eyes were fixed on her as he marched to where she stood. So this was the great Cole Masters. Alive and in person.

In spite of her professional approach to matters such as these, the closer he came, the more she felt her years of study and experience fading to nothing. On that realization, she took a deep breath and concentrated on why she was here. This dig was a one-shot attempt to prove something incredible. She wouldn’t allow herself to be swayed by his sex appeal or intimidated by his rumored bitterness and arrogance. She’d somehow maintain the professional attitude the situation called for.

“Cole Masters,” he introduced himself, extending his hand.

“Dr. Tallie Finley, archaeologist with the North Texas Natural History Museum,” she said as she accepted his hand. It was twice the size of hers and exceedingly warm. A slight electric current tingled between their grips, traveling some distance up her arm. She could tell by his frown he’d felt it, too. She quickly withdrew her hand.

“It’s you.” His brows raised in surprise and his demeanor became less in your face.

“Ah...yes. I’m me and I’m guessing this is what you want to see.” Something about him seemed vaguely familiar but she couldn’t quite place him.

She handed him the court document. “It allows an intrusive and extensive survey of the area indicated on the map as presented to the court.”

“You are Dr. Finley?”

Something had suddenly removed the harsh tone from Mr. Masters’s voice and replaced it with a slight hint of congeniality. Because she didn’t know what had caused the change, she was more off kilter than when she’d initially faced his hostility. Good grief. Had she failed to button her blouse? Was she wearing the oatmeal she’d had for breakfast?

“I am.”

“Dr. Finley...” he said again, and handed the paper back to her. He cleared his throat. “Do you see that heavy equipment over there?” He swung around and nodded at the bulldozers, cement trucks and other pieces of large equipment she couldn’t name. “We are in the middle of a project. The planning alone has taken years. These guys are here today to pour the foundations, all twenty-five of them. As you can see, the roughed-in plumbing is already installed. How are we supposed to do our work if you’re in the same area looking for whatever you think might be there?”

Her eyes were drawn to his lips. So full. So enticing. She swallowed hard. She again had that vague feeling of having met this man before but the only face that came to mind was the mysterious stranger who had seduced her. No way could the two men be the same.

“I understand this might be an inconvenience for you, Mr. Masters. But the reason I’m here is equally important. Possibly more so.” He drew back, shaking his head. “What I’m seeking could potentially be under the spot where you plan to pour concrete, which would be a problem. If there are artifacts there, they could be damaged by your construction. If you’ll tell your workers to move their equipment out of my work area, I’ll conduct my research as expeditiously as I can to get out of your way.”

“That’s it?” His eyes locked with hers and she felt a tingle run down her spine. Where had she seen those eyes before? Suddenly a feeling of deja vu ran rampant. “We halt our operation and get out of your way? On my land.” His frustration was coming back. She could see the muscles in his jaw working overtime. Something about his voice touched a nerve. She’d swear she’d heard it before, which was ridiculous. She didn’t run in the same circles as billionaires.

“I would assume the judge knew who owned this land when he signed the order. I would have to say he’s probably not going to change his mind. If you should decide to take your case before a higher court, it would take longer than I’ll be here.” Unless she found proof an ancient civilization existed, which would make the ninety-day limit moot, but she would be throwing gas on the fire to bring that up now.

“Yeah. He knows me. And I know that judge. My attorneys will handle this.”

“Of course. That’s entirely your right.” The man sure didn’t mind throwing his weight around. She’d never seen a court-ordered, ninety-day search permit overturned. But to smile, as she wanted to do, might provoke him further. She fought the urge. Neither of them needed that. Just the fact that he was here and causing a delay was bad enough.

He called out to one of his men. “Harvey, this is Dr. Finley.” His eyes flashed to hers then back to his foreman. “She has a map detailing an area in which she needs to work and has been given the authority to do so by the court. Temporarily. I want the area flagged. Call Michaels at the land surveyor’s office, if need be.”

Harvey didn’t look at all convinced he could do as asked, but he wasn’t going to tell his boss that. “Yes, sir.”

“And you’ll have to move the equipment. Find a rise, in case we get a storm, and make sure it’s all outside of her...work area. The concrete trucks need to go back to Latham’s Equipment.” He received another nod from his foreman. “Just what is it, exactly, you’re looking for, Doctor?” His hands rose to his hips. “Some kind of Indian relics?”

“Something like that.” It was a heck of a lot more than that. But because of his in-your-face attitude, she was hesitant to enlighten him further. He wouldn’t care and it was her experience the more a land owner knew, the worse they could make it for the archaeology team. “Actually, I’m looking for artifacts establishing my own family line. The recovery of such relics will be of great scientific value to the Native American Historical Society as well as to the National Historical Association. Do you keep cattle here? I need to know so I can take precautions if the answer is yes,” she continued.

“No,” he replied. “No cows or any other livestock allowed on this part of the property.”

* * *

He stared at her. His eyes narrowed as he looked, really looked, at her face. He couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming from her eyes and lips down her body, all the way to her toes. He ran one hand over his lower face as her identity confirmed in his mind. It hit him like a blow to his solar plexus. His expression changed to a smile he tried to hold in check.

Tallie Finley was the beautiful woman he’d spent the night with in New Orleans. No doubt.

Apparently she hadn’t recognized him. Yet. He currently wore a beard and was dressed in a suit and tie. He was certain she had a completely different perspective of him now than she had then. But he knew her. He would never forget those beautiful, voluptuous curves, that stunning face, the long, silky, ebony hair and that deep Southern drawl.

She was the vision he’d dreamed about and thought about for almost three months. While striking, in the darkness her eyes hadn’t been such a vivid green. Now they blazed emerald fire.

“Your eyes are so green.” It just came out. And right now they were spitting green daggers.

She stared like he’d gone daft then turned away, suddenly angry. “Is the color of my eyes of great importance?”

“No. No. I just...it surprised me, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, a lot of things surprise me.”

Yeah, Cole thought. And she was going to face a whopper of a surprise just around the corner. He would wait to see how long it took her to figure it out.

She reached up and pulled the band from her hair. With a quick shake and a finger-comb it was floating on the breeze like a dark, wispy cloud.

Damn, she was a beautiful woman. Tall and slender. Still a head shorter than his six foot four, she appeared both fragile and resilient. He had firsthand, intimate knowledge she possessed both those qualities. Her eyes demanded respect. Her hair was long, past her waist, and so black it looked blue under the direct sunlight. He could see the determination in her stance; in the way she carried herself. High cheekbones and those brilliant green eyes stood out in her slightly bronzed face. A man could get lost in those eyes. Easily. But he saw the determination in them. She wasn’t here on a fool’s mission. She would fight for the right to work on this dig and uncover evidence of her Native American ancestors’ lost tribe. How did a man compete with something like that? If she was legit. If she was really here to find artifacts.

“Is there anything more I can do for you, Mr. Masters?”

He stepped toward her until less than a foot separated them. “That is the question.”

He was close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body.

She stepped back. “If not, I need to get busy.”

He’d never thought he would see her again, although he’d hoped to. He’d kicked himself a hundred times for not getting her name and contact information before he’d left that Saturday morning. He began to relax. With her hair piled up on top of her head at first and the green coveralls that hid every luscious curve, he was surprised he’d recognized her. But he had and she was here. His project was going to be delayed for a while but now it had a silver lining.

He could only stare as she began to work her locks into a long, silken braid. Suddenly it felt as though they were the only two people on earth. In this setting it wasn’t hard to imagine. The sight caused every cell in his body to spring to readiness. A liquid heat ran rampant through him, pooling in his groin. It was New Orleans on steroids. And he wanted her until it hurt.

Images raced through his mind; images of her in bed, sheets tangled from their hot, sensual lovemaking. On her face were satisfaction and the need for more of him, which he gladly gave. Her ebony hair draped over his chest as he held her hot, damp body in his arms, fighting to slow his breathing. Tallie left the rest of the women he’d known in the dirt. How long until he could hold her in his arms again? There was no thought of never.

Cole took a deep breath and blew it out. He needed to push his wayward thoughts to the back of his mind and get away from this woman with all possible speed. Making a concentrated effort, he snapped himself out of the daydream. Get a grip.

“I—” He cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you to your work.” He nodded, turned and walked back toward the chopper, his clarity of mind shot to hell.

He hadn’t gone ten feet before he stopped and turned to face her. “Have you ever been to New Orleans, Dr. Finley?”

She squinted her eyes and tilted her head, no doubt finding the question odd.

“It’s where I went to school. So, yes. I spent six years there. Why?”

He shrugged. “You just look like someone I knew once who lived there.” He planted the seed. Now to see how long it would take her to come to figure things out.

A long moment passed between them before he turned toward the helicopter, boarded, started the massive engine, lifted off and flew away.

* * *

“Thanks for welcoming me to the neighborhood,” she muttered to herself as she turned toward her old, battered Ford. What an odd man.

And she couldn’t get over the fact that her mind was screaming, You know him! It was an absurdity. He traveled the world, was worth billions with a capital B, while she worked in the dirt and had barely a thousand bucks in the bank. Still...she couldn’t seem to shake the feeling they had met before. And what was with that question about New Orleans? She’d gone to school there but she surely would remember if she had ever met him. She never ventured far from campus and knew very few that weren’t associated with the college.

In fact, the only real outing she’d had was when she, Mac and Ginger had gotten together after graduation. She’d met a handsome stranger that night. But no way could that man have been Cole Masters. The stranger was nice and showed no arrogance at all. If the stranger had even one penny for every hundred thousand Masters had, he would be doing all right. He could even buy himself some new clothes. They were almost the same size. No doubt that’s what kept bugging her. Pushing the thoughts from her mind she began to unpack the old Ford wagon. Maybe it would come to her eventually.

It took her a while to unpack. Most of her things could be stored inside the trapper’s cabin. It was on the land covered by the court order, so she had no qualms using it. If Cole Masters didn’t like it, she could always set up her tent. A closer inspection confirmed the one-room shack was sturdier than she’d originally thought. It contained an old wood-burning stove and a twin-size bed. The mattress, once white, was now the color of the dirt outside and so old it had been stuffed with peanut shells and cotton. There were holes in the roof and floor and the only window didn’t have any panes. She had camped in worse. She just couldn’t remember when. Her sleeping bag would provide some insulation and the rusty legs of the bed would keep her off the floor, so there was that at least.

She was used to roughing it, but her pregnancy added an extra wrinkle to the situation. Before she’d come here, her doctor had given her the green light—she was in excellent health and should be fine to do her job. But he’d warned her to take care of herself. The cabin would do for now, but she was going to have to keep a close eye on how she was feeling and make sure she didn’t overdo it.

By the time she had unpacked most of her things, the bulldozers had been moved and an area had been marked off by little red flags. It was actually a larger area than she’d first imagined. She would have to thank Mr. Masters for that the next time he came snooping, which, if he was like other land owners, should be in about three days.

Tallie eyed the area to determine the best place to start. Over toward the cliffs, she decided. She would map out a grid and go from there.

She returned to her car for the last of the gear. Her old tent was on the bottom of a pile of equipment. She probably should drag it out and spend some time patching the rips and holes. She hadn’t taken time to patch it after the last dig when the wind had blown it into a huge cactus patch. But she was anxious to start the dig. She would leave it for now and just use the old trapper’s cabin. It was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission anyway. If Mr. Masters wanted her out of the ramshackle building, all he had to do was tell her.

She picked up the bolt of orange string, a handful of wooden stakes and a hammer, and chose a spot most favorable. She wouldn’t finish before the sun set, but every step she could complete today would be one step closer to finding the proof of the lost tribe for her grandmother and the faster she could get back to the museum.

She wasn’t used to working alone, but the silence was nice. She just hoped Masters found other things to occupy his time than coming out to bother her. She didn’t need the veiled threats—or the sexual magnetism that made her heart speed up and her rational thinking, for which she was known, take a high dive off the nearest cliff.

With a sigh she hammered the first stake into the ground. Then another. By sunset she’d marked off an area of about one hundred and twenty square feet, and divided it into smaller sections. She’d been able to examine the first four grids. Tomorrow she would set up the sifting box and, with shovel in hand, she would be on her way to discovery. She hoped.

Grabbing her tools, she returned to the trapper’s cabin, dropped the hammer and remaining stakes on the floor just inside the door and stared at the bed, such that it was. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Cole walked from the helipad toward the house, still in disbelief, livid that Tallie Finley’s dig was allowed to supersede his project and slow things to a crawl. It was ironic that on the day...the day...they were to pour the foundation she had received her permit from Judge Mitchell and shut Cole down. Unbelievable. Even more incredible was that he’d checked with his lawyers eight ways from Sunday and there was nothing he could do about the court order. The only silver lining was that he would have the opportunity to get to know this irresistible woman much better.

Since the day he’d left college his efforts had focused on company business, improving and doing his part to make Masters Corporation, LLC, one of the leading real-estate companies in Texas if not the entire United States. Days turned into nights that turned back into days as he’d worked. He’d flown countless miles, attended innumerable meetings. But it had always been for the family business; he’d never ventured out on his own. This project to build a world-class corporate retreat where Fortune 500 companies could send their executives for training and relaxation was special in that it was his. It was his chance to accomplish something important without company backing. He would prove his worth to his brothers and, more importantly, to himself. At the age of thirty-four he would finally be able to say, I did that. It wasn’t about the money or acclaim. It was the sense of accomplishment and the pride.

The planning had taken years but the end was in sight. The announcement and a brochure detailing the project had gone out to the business leaders and entrepreneurs on almost every continent in the world. An invitation to tour the site had been sent to several prominent CEOs in the U.S. with the hope they would invest in the project. How uncharacteristically naive of him to think at this stage nothing would go wrong.

He’d never seen it coming. Just like before, when he’d found out about his ex-wife’s cheating, he’d once again been caught with his pants down. If anyone had told him a month ago that a one-hundred-and-twenty-five-pound woman could shut down a multimillion-dollar project with a piece of paper and some orange string, he would have laughed in their face. He wasn’t laughing now. He had to wonder if she was a part of a bigger plan by one of his corporate enemies to sabotage his project. If not, he had to be open to the possibility that she was working on her own in an attempt to gain some of his wealth. Did she know who he was and was she only acting a part? He’d learned three years ago just how deceptive a woman could be.

Even after the sheer hell he’d been through with his ex-wife, until today he thought he’d heard and seen it all. False pregnancy claims, varying attempts at blackmail. But claiming to look for some relic on the same spot as his future lodge was a new one. This must have taken some planning. How much was she being paid to sabotage his project and who was paying her to do it? What was the full game plan? Was she planning to fake an injury, as well? Had she set him up in New Orleans? Or was she legit?

As soon as he stepped into the house at the Circle M Ranch, he grabbed his cell and called the head of the security division at the home office in Dallas.

“Jonas? Yeah. I want someone checked out. I want to know when she lost her first baby tooth, the names of her friends in second grade, who she dated in college... I want you to turn over every rock no matter how small. Her name is Dr. Tallie Finley. She’s supposedly an archeologist with the North Texas Natural History Museum. That’s all I have.”

“That should be plenty. I’ll get right on it,” said the voice on the other end of the line. “When I finish, I’ll notify you by email?”

“Call me as soon as you have the full report. You can reach me at this number.”

“Consider it done.”

Cole hung up and slid his phone into his pocket. There had to be more to this than just a search for artifacts. No, she had to be after something more than a relic. It would be interesting to see what it was and how she went about trying to attain it.

For the first time in years, he thought of Gina. When they were newly married, he had trusted her, and she’d had his father’s blessing. But less than a year into the marriage the warning signs had begun to appear. Lying. Disappearing for an afternoon or evening, money in her private account—tens of millions of dollars—vanishing at an alarming rate. His father’s odd advice to not worry about it had sent Cole scurrying to the company’s head of security, who’d provided a report that told it all. She was involved with another man. And she was pregnant. The father of the baby remained a mystery. Cole had had reason to doubt it was his.

But then tragedy had struck and that unborn baby had never gotten to see the world. Because he’d died with Gina the fateful night she’d spun out of control on a rain-soaked road, her car going over a steep embankment and exploding in flames at the bottom of a deep ravine. The night Cole had told her to get out.

There was just something about all the coincidences surrounding Dr. Finley’s arrival that reminded him of his late wife’s deception. Was Dr. Finley trying to play him, too? He damn sure didn’t want to believe something bad about his new mystery woman, but neither did he intend to sit back and watch her destroy his plans.