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.
Four
Three days after meeting her face to face, Cole still couldn’t get over how Dr. Finley had taken over his land. He knew she’d settled into the trapper’s cabin, and he was fine with that. The rough conditions in there would probably hasten her departure. He’d sent ranch hands out to spy on her at varying times. The reports were all the same. During the day, she worked. At night, she soaked in the river then disappeared into the little shack. They had to be missing something. Maybe she was sneaking around at night, looking for who knew what. He decided he would go out to assess the situation for himself.
Frustrated, Cole watched her through the lenses of his binoculars and confirmed what the ranch hands had reported. She worked from sunup to sundown, went for a dip in the cool waters of the river—he had trouble taking his eyes off her voluptuous curves—and finally trudged back to the old trapper’s cabin where she presumably slept through the night. She was a damned hard worker, he’d give her that. But after three days of this nonsense, it appeared as though she’d found nothing, at least nothing she cared to share with him, and his heavy equipment still sat idle.
The next day his head of security called with the findings about Dr. Finley. Nothing out of the ordinary and nothing he could use to get rid of her. There was not one single thing she’d ever done that was suspicious. No black mark against her. Not even a gray one. She’d worked to put herself through school. Her grades had been top-notch. She’d made the dean’s list in her junior and senior years of college before going for her master’s degree then her doctorate at Tulane University. Her mother’s family was Irish. Her father was Choctaw. Her mother taught seventh and eighth grade. Her dad had been an archeologist before he was killed on a dig in Brazil four years ago. Dr. Finley had broken up with her boyfriend, an English literature professor, a year before.
But how could anyone in this day and age be that squeaky clean? How was it possible?
He zeroed in on how she’d gone to Tulane. New Orleans was a city Cole loved. In fact, the night he’d spent there was the first time in years he’d taken the opportunity to enjoy the city. Then, out of all the people who swarmed into the French Quarter on that particular Friday night, he had ended up spending it with the most beautiful woman he’d ever set eyes on. That was one night, one memory, he would not soon forget. He would have never believed the next time he saw the woman she would be on his property, calling a halt to his pet construction project. It was uncanny. The chances were a billion to one. But as delighted as he was to see her again and this time to learn her name, he still would not wait ninety days to get his project back on track. Something had to give and it wouldn’t be him.
Maybe if he talked to her, reined in his temper and kept it unemotional, just business, he could make her understand how many problems she was causing. And there was no time like the present. He jumped into a pickup and headed back to the site. He easily spotted her and walked to within a couple of feet of where she worked, moving the soil with a little brush. She glanced at him briefly in acknowledgment and continued to work, all but ignoring him. She was working about halfway through the grid, slowly, methodically, gently raking the dirt then brushing over anything that might be promising.
On hands and knees, she was leaning forward over her digging spot, her butt in the air. He wouldn’t be a man if he didn’t take another long look. She had a damn fine backside. Her hair was pulled up into a messy knot that made her look sexy as hell. Her face was smudged with dirt. He didn’t know many women who would still look attractive in such a state. But it showed the commitment on Dr. Finley’s part, which was something he had to admire.
“Dr. Finley, how are you doing today?”
“Just fine,” she said, eying him suspiciously.
He cleared his throat. “I understand your dig, your search, is important to you.” Admittedly he wasn’t used to talking to someone’s backside. “But the fact is, while you are out here playing with your rake in the dirt, I’m losing thousands of dollars a day.”
“I’m sorry. That’s too bad.”
She didn’t sound sorry. “Well, the thing is, I need to finish what I’ve started.”
“If postponing your project is costing that much money, perhaps you should move it to another location,” she suggested matter-of-factly, never taking her eyes off the section of ground she was working on.
“Impossible,” he snorted. “I already have the plumbing roughed in. The forms are set. Other aspects of my project feed off of this location. It isn’t that easy to just pick up and move.”
“And if I find evidence next to one of your twenty foundations, that foundation will have to be torn out. You only have to stand down twelve weeks, maybe less.” She looked up and caught his gaze. “Surely your business dealings have taught you that sometimes you don’t get your way.”
Cole could feel the anger rising in his chest. Even more frustrating, he couldn’t escape the sheer physical pull of attraction he had for this woman.
“We have every reason to believe there may be remnants of an ancient civilization here,” she continued. “I wasn’t around several thousand years ago to warn them that in the twenty-first century someone would want to build...whatever you’re building here.”
She picked up a soft-bristle brush and began fanning over a small area.
“Dr. Finley,” he mumbled. “There are museums full of paintings and crafts of all kinds. Why is this any different? What’s so damned important that it’s costing me a ninety-day delay? If what you’re looking for is thousands of years old, what’s another three months until you find them? It. Whatever you’re searching for. Or is there something you’re not telling me?”
Suddenly she dropped the little brush and stood. Pulling off her gloves, she slapped them against her jeans-covered leg. “I’ve already told you why you need to stop construction. Twice, if I recall. Why would you think I’m hiding something? What? Do you think I’m digging for gold? Some hidden Spanish treasure? A cache stashed by Jesse James?”
Now she was being snide.
“I assure you I’m not. Any of those things would be turned over to you immediately to do with as you pleased. Well, you and the IRS. And the longer you stand here harassing me, the longer I remain idle, causing further delays. Believe me when I say it’s irritating for both of us.”
“Fine.” He glared at her. “Have it your way. But don’t expect any help from me or my employees.” With that said, he turned and walked back to his truck.
A cool breeze came in through the broken window. She hoped it continued through the night. But as she got into the tiny bed she heard a scurrying of animal feet underneath it. Either rats or gophers. Maybe a raccoon. She quickly stepped to the opposite side of the cabin. “Go on. Shoo!” She beat against the rusted bed legs with a stick she’d found in the corner. Two skunks made their escape through the open cabin door, thankfully without releasing their odor. Bending over, she checked under the bed for any more night visitors. All clear.
With a shiver and a sigh, she went out to her Ford wagon in the hope she could find something to prop against the cabin door to keep it closed. She’d gone only a few steps when her foot got caught in a small indention in the ground, causing her to lose balance. She groped for anything that would keep her from falling and grabbed onto a low-hanging tree limb. But she immediately realized she’d become ensnared in a spider’s web. The idea that the inhabitant might be looking for a new home somewhere inside her clothes slammed her panic button. As she frantically brushed at her clothing and hair, she heard a rustling of the underbrush a few feet away. It was then that she felt something crawling on her back. Under her shirt.
She screamed. There wasn’t a lot in life that bothered her, but she’d been afraid of spiders since she was a kid. In complete panic, she tore off her shirt and began to brush at her back. Then something moved just under the waistband of her jeans, heading south. Another scream pierced the air as she frantically unbuttoned her pants and pushed them down her legs. About the time they cleared her behind, she lost balance, falling into a thick layer of last year’s autumn leaves. Rolling onto her back, she continued to kick and fight off the jeans that had bunched around her ankles.
She’d just freed her feet when Cole appeared next to her, coming down on one knee, a gun held with both hands as he scanned the immediate area. “What is it? What the hell is going on?”