Page 44 of Troy Story
His warm chuckle sent a bolt of heat spiraling through her. “You like the beard, don’t you?”
“Hell, yes. I can’t wait to feel it grazing the inside of my thighs when you finally have your way with me.” She shivered at the thought.
“Are you trying to torture me? Now I’m going to be thinking about that all night.”
“Good.” She leaned in closer and whispered in his ear. “I want you to dream about everything you’re going to do to me.”
“Trust me, I’ve been dreaming about it a lot.” He gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “But I’m sure the reality will be even better.”
The low timbre of his voice filled her with a powerful yearning. She wanted more than just furtive kisses on the back patio. She wanted—noneeded—to touch him everywhere, to brush her lips over his bare skin and make him groan with pleasure.
“I can’t wait until we can finally be alone,” she said. “But for now, I’ll take a kiss.”
With that, all thoughts of Shelby and academia were forgotten as he took her in his arms and kissed her under a sky filled with stars.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
In the three weeks he’d been working at Troy, Stuart had never visited the café. Though Mort had offered to treat him to a cold drink or a spot of tea, Stuart had always turned him down. Unlike the others, he needed to be present on-site as much as possible. So it was ironic that the one time he popped into the café, Mort wasn’t around to make good on his promise. He and Clarissa had taken a few days off to go on a bus tour that included Ephesus, Aphrodisias, and Hierapolis—ancient sites that were worth a visit but too far from Troy for a day trip.
Fighting back a yawn, Stuart cursed himself for sleeping through his alarm. Normally, he didn’t need one, but he always set it just in case. Today, he’d woken so late that he’d missed the chance for a quick cup of coffee. He’d thought he could last until the morning break, but no such luck. By eight, he was battling a wicked caffeine headache.
When the barista set down Stuart’s cappuccino, he inhaled the scent gratefully. He went to add a packet of sugar and almost bumped into Dr. Wagner. Stuart hadn’t seen him in over two weeks—not since the stone-faced director had barged onto the site to accuse Dr. Hughes of spying. Since then, there hadn’t been any interaction between the two groups.
What harm could there be in extending an offer of friendship? Stuart smiled at Dr. Wagner. “Good morning. I’m Stuart Carlson from the University of Boston.”
Dr. Wagner gave a curt nod. “One of the Americans.”
“We’re not that bad. I know you and Dr. Hughes have a troubled history, but the rest of us are just trying to do our jobs.”
“I take it you’re still searching for that cemetery?”
“Dr. Hughes is. But the real focus of our project is the Late Bronze Age settlement in the lower city. We’re hoping to learn more about the population and add to our knowledge of Troy’s history. Isn’t that what these excavations are about?”
Dr. Wagner sniffed. “For us, definitely. And for you, maybe. But not so for your boss. All he cares about is making headlines, hoping everyone forgets his past sins.”
Stuart couldn’t argue with a statement like that. He backed away. “Sorry. I was just trying to be friendly. Anytime you want to visit our site, feel free. We’ve got nothing to hide.”
Feeling awkward, he turned to leave, only to have the older man stop him with a question. “You wouldn’t be related to Dr. Samuel Carlson, would you?”
Though Stuart’s father was nowhere near as important as Dusty’s parents, he’d made a name for himself as an archaeologist before retiring from fieldwork and moving to Southern California to work for the Getty Villa. “He’s my father. Do you know him?”
“I heard him speak at a conference in Berlin years ago with Dr. Louisa Danforth. Their project in Egypt was impressive.”
“It was. I was fortunate to spend a lot of my childhood there.” Stuart waited, curious to see where the conversation would lead.
“When would be a good time to visit your site?” Dr. Wagner asked.
Stuart was so taken aback he took a second to respond. “Why don’t you join us for our morning break at ten?”
“Very well. I’ll stop by then.”
After Dr. Wagner left, Stuart sipped his cappuccino slowly, glowing with pleasure. Though he hadn’t cleared this impromptu invitation with Dr. Hughes, he was pleased to be making inroads with the Germans. Wasn’t it better to get along with them than regard them as enemies? Maybe they could work together at some point or do a joint presentation at that fall symposium in Amsterdam.
After finishing his cappuccino, he walked back to the site, called Kerim over, and told him the news.
“I’m surprised Wagner responded to your efforts,” Kerim said. “He’s barely spoken to me all summer. But I’m not sure how Hughes will react to the idea of him visiting our site. You should go warn him.”
Stuart’s enthusiasm faded as he made his way toward Dr. Hughes’ trench. Maybe he’d been a tad hasty in making this offer without asking his boss’s permission. He’d just have to convince him that this overture would benefit both groups.
