Page 33 of Troy Story
“Right.” She smiled up at him. “I’m from Harvard, and don’t you forget it.”
He chuckled. “As if I could. But it works in our favor. Plus, you’re not here to earn a grade or get course credit. You were hired on as an independent illustrator.”
“What about Hughes? Do you think he’ll have a problem with us being together?”
“Given his reputation? I doubt it. Even so, we should behave like professionals when we’re at the dig site. Would that be okay?”
She kept her tone light. “You mean no kissing while we’re working? I can live with that.”
Even if she wanted more, she’d take whatever she could get. Knowing that she wouldn’t lose him to Clarissa or anyone else was an enormous relief.
By the time they headed back to the Land Rover, she was still floating on a blissful cloud. Not only had they revealed their feelings for each other, but they also had five weeks left at Troy. Five weeks to work together, enjoy their free time, and find some way to sneak off and have sex. The thought of intimacy with Stuart—when they were both sober enough to know what they were doing—sent shivers through her.
But now that they were together, she couldn’t give Dr. Hughes any excuse to fire her. Come Monday, she’d need to pull off Operation Odysseus without a hitch. She wished she didn’t have to hide it from Stuart, but if she told him the truth, he’d never approve. If anything, he’d insist on confronting Dr. Hughes about it, who’d then retaliate by booting her off the dig. Better to keep her plan under wraps and hope it all worked out.
As they pulled up to the field house, Stuart shut off the engine and killed the lights. When he placed his hand on her thigh, she inched closer. Cupping her hands around his beard, she reveled in the feel of his whiskers before kissing him passionately. His hand caressed the back of her neck, sending delicious tremors along her spine. She wanted to run her hands under his shirt and stroke his bare chest, but she restrained herself. One touch could lead to another, and before she knew it, she’d end up straddling his lap, grinding against him until they both got off.
She’d definitely fantasized aboutthatbefore.
When their kisses grew more frantic, he broke away and pressed his forehead to hers. He drove out a ragged sigh. “I don’t want to stop. But we probably should. Right?”
She loved how torn he sounded. How she’d made sensible, buttoned-up Stuart react in a way that ran counter to his rules and propriety. She smoothed her hand against his cheek, letting it linger in the bristles of his beard. “Yeah. Someone could come out at any minute. But we could carve out some alone time tomorrow night. Maybe after dinner?”
He threaded his fingers through her hair. “I’d like that.”
“Me, too.” She picked up the box of baklava. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take this to my room. I’m going to dream about you all night. What a combination—baklava and sex dreams.” Giving a little shimmy, she unlatched her door and hopped out. “Coming?”
“Uh…in a minute. I need to get things under control here.”
She laughed. “I’ll leave so you won’t be tempted. Good night, Stu. Thanks for dinner.”
“My pleasure. Night, Dusty.”
She hustled through the common area, hoping to dodge questions about her evening out. The crew was so engrossed in an elaborate tabletop game that they barely looked her way. Good. She needed time to process everything. To savor the euphoric feelings coursing through her, now that she knew exactly how Stuart felt about her.
As she opened the door to her room, she stopped short at the sight of Clarissa and Emilia, sitting on their beds and chatting. Pinned in the spotlight, she wished she’d taken a moment to brush her hair or adjust her clothing.
Emilia regarded her with a shit-eating grin. “Ooh. Someone got laid.”
“Did not. I was at dinner with Stuart. That’s all.” She raised her eyebrows, trying to signal that she didn’t want to discuss this in front of Clarissa, but Em was oblivious.
“That’s all, my ass,” Emilia said. “You’re glowing, and it’s not just because we spent eight hours on a boat today. Something happened tonight.”
To Dusty’s surprise, Clarissa started laughing. “Oh, my God. No wonder Stuart was glaring at you and Kerim earlier. I thought he was being protective, but he wasjealous.”
Flustered by her friends’ scrutiny, Dusty set the box of baklava on her nightstand. “Do either of you want some dessert?”
“I don’t want baklava, you bitch. I want details. Though now that you mention it…” Emilia eased off her bed. “Got any forks?”
“Yep.” Dusty opened the box and brought out a handful of plastic forks. After passing one to each of them, she took a bite, groaning at the sweet, sticky goodness. “Mmm. This is incredible.”
Emilia joined her, digging into a piece with her fork. “It’s totally delicious, but you still owe us some answers. When we were on the boat, you were cozying up to Kerim. Then you had dinner with Stuart. Is this a legit love triangle? Do I need to decide if I’m Team Kerim or Team Stuart?”
“I’m firmly Team Stuart. And as it happens, he’s Team Dusty.” She grinned as she recalled the way he’d bared his soul at dinner. “Apparently, he’s been fantasizing about me for some time.”
Clarissa’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Here I thought you were more like siblings. I was so off base.”
“Sorry if I implied that before, but—”
