Heart Of Gold by Bird Jessica Read Free Book Online Page B

That cross was a fake.”
    “I
know.”
    “So
why are you calling me? If you don't want anyone on that mountain—” Carter
paused. ”How did you know it wasn't authentic?"
    “Because
I have the real one.”
    She fell
silent as his words sank in.
    “And
I'm rethinking my earlier decision. How would you like to come back tomorrow
and take a look at my little slice of history?”
    She
stayed quiet while ambition warred with her instinct for self-preservation.
“I don't trust you.”
    He
laughed. “That's smart, but I have something you want, don't I? Shall we
say noon?”
    Even
though his lure was bordering on irresistible, she shook her head. “I
don't think so.”
    “Don't
tell me you're busy.”
    “What
am I coming for? So you can dangle an artifact in front of my face and turn me
down again? As you so aptly put it, that would be a waste of our time.”
    “Aren't
you just a little curious about my cross?”
    Curious
didn't go far enough. Try desperate, she thought ruefully. Still, she'd be
damned if she was going to present herself as some kind of amusement for him
again.
    “Farrell,
I don't believe in conversions, at least not with people like you. There's no
way in hell I'm driving back into New York State again just so you can shut me
down. I did that earlier today. I don't need to reprise the rejection or put
additional miles on my car.”
    “Fine,
I'll come to you. We don't need to be near the damn thing to discuss your
coming to work on my mountain.”
    Carter
hesitated, wondering what kind of game he was playing.
    The feel
of the dirt in her hands came back and temptation rose. It would be the chance
of a lifetime to get to do a real study of that site, to find out what had
happened. But she had to wonder if he was setting her up somehow. Why would a
man who had turned away so many, including herself earlier that very day,
suddenly call up and ask her to come dig? It just didn't make sense.
    “Farrell,
if you're toying with me, I'm going to have a lot to say about it.”
    “It
couldn't be anything I haven't heard before.”
    “Don't
knock innovation,” she muttered.
    There was
a long pause.
    “So
do we have a date?”
    Reluctantly,
feeling as if she'd tripped and was falling into thin air, she gave him
directions to her house.
    “I'll
see you at noon,” he said and hung up.
    How
appropriate for a standoff, she thought.
    The next
morning, she couldn't settle down to accomplish anything. She had a paper she
wanted to finish and she should have gone into her office at UVM, but she did
neither. Instead, she ended up in her garden, weeding as if possessed.
Surrounded by blooming iris and lilacs, hands deep in top soil, she lost track
of time, and when she heard a car approach, she looked up in surprise. A black
Porsche was coming up her driveway. The man behind the wheel looked as though
the car had been made with him in mind.
    Carter
got to her feet, pushed her hair out of her face and tried to brush the grass
off her bare knees. Mud was caked on her shorts and her T-shirt and she flicked
some of it off.
    Not much
of an improvement from yesterday's outfit, she noted. At least the other pair
of cutoffs had been clean.
    She
watched with trepidation as Nicholas Farrell unfolded his long legs from the
car and got out with a stretch. She was surprised to see he was wearing a dark
suit and wished she didn't notice how the pale blue shirt under the jacket
emphasized his tan. He looked her way and smiled but she couldn't see his eyes
through his sunglasses.
    With an
economical movement, he bent down and picked up something from the front seat.
As he strode across her small lawn, a black leather briefcase in one of his
hands, he exuded masculine power.
    Unlike
myself, she thought; I'm just exuding the need to take a shower.
    “You
like dirt, don't you,” he said in a husky voice when he was standing in
front of her.
    She caught
a whiff of cologne, something sophisticated and fitting for a man like