CS 01 The Grail Conspiracy by Lynn Sholes Read Free Book Online

a
neatly cropped goatee and mustache. She hugged herself for warmth
and asked him, "Do you know which one is Dr. Tyler?"
    Wrapped in a blanket, the man lifted his arm from underneath,
nodding toward the field. "That's John throwing the pass. You're just
in time for the last play." He rose to his feet and yelled, "Go! Go!"
    The receiver caught the ball, but was quickly overrun, disappearing under a mound of players. The student team and their fans
whooped and hollered in celebration.
    The man sighed. "Best team the faculty has put together in a long
time, even if we did lose." With the plaid blanket gathered around his
shoulders, he stood and crabbed down the bleachers, easing carefully
over each row of seats.
    Tyler was the first of the faculty to congratulate the students. Cotten couldn't hear what they were saying, but there was a lot of laughter-camaraderie that men always seemed to share in their games.
Competition brought out the best in men, she thought ... and the
worst in women.
    She climbed down from the stands and approached Tyler. He was
tall-perhaps six feet, crowned by thick black hair. There was a slight quirk to the corner of his mouth-as if he knew a secret he was not
about to reveal. His tanned skin was a result of exposure at many
archaeological digs, she assumed. Even through his sweats, she
detected a tautness to his body-a solid look of being in good shape.

    "Dr. Tyler?" she said.
    He looked up and dropped his hand from a player's shoulder.
"Yes?"
    His eyes were the deepest blue she'd ever seen, nearly navy except
when they caught the sun-even more remarkable in person than on
the videotape in the archives.
    "My name is Cotten Stone, and I work for SNN. If you have a
moment, I'd like to talk to you."
    She extended her hand and found his grip polite but firm.
    John turned to one of his teammates. "You guys go ahead. Order
me a Sam Adams."
    "I don't want to interrupt your plans, Dr. Tyler," she said.
    "It's fine. They'll be celebrating at O'Grady's all afternoon. More
than enough time for me to catch up."
    A gust of wind blew Cotten's hair in her face. Her nose tingled
from the cold, and she knew it must be red.
    "You look like you could use a cup of something hot-coffee
maybe?"
    "That would be wonderful," she said.

    In his office, John took her coat and hung it on a hook just inside the
door.
    Cotten sat in an under-stuffed, wood-frame chair. "So, are you
always the quarterback?"

    "Actually, since it's my first year here, I got thrown into the job.
That way, they can blame the new guy if the faculty loses. I'm sure I
won't hear the end of it. I warned everyone in advance that their
grades could be affected by the outcome, but it didn't seem to help.
Now let me get you that cup of coffee. I've only got instant though."
    "That'll be fine," she said.
    He flashed a smile and moved to a makeshift kitchenette that was
partially set off from the rest of the room by a bookcase.
    John filled the cups with tap water, then stuck them in the microwave
and set the timer. As the microwave thrummed away, he wondered
about the pretty young woman sitting in his office. What would bring
her looking for him? Why wouldn't she have phoned instead of coming all the way up here?
    After he'd fixed the coffee he placed a piping hot cup of Folgers in
front of Cotten, then handed her the sugar bowl.
    John watched her heap in two heavy-laden spoonfuls, stir, then
add another half spoon. She looked nervous, like she was keeping a
tight hold on something-like she might explode at any moment.
Guarded was a good description.
    She looked up and said, "I know, too much sugar. Sugar and
Dutch chocolate are my weaknesses."
    "Just two vices?" John said. "If only I could be so fortunate." He
sat and sipped his coffee, giving her time to grow comfortable.
    Cotten glanced around at the shelves that were chock-full of
books. "Quite a collection."
    "Most belonged to my predecessor. But they do make for