Page 55 of Troy Story
“Why does his room smell like a teenage boy lives here?” She kicked a sweat-stained shirt out of her way. “There’s no excuse for this shit, not when we have a washing machine right here in the field house.”
“He refuses to do his own laundry. The housekeeper’s been handling it when she comes to clean, but he might have forgotten to leave it out for her. He keeps his door locked because he doesn’t want anyone coming in.”
Dusty peered around, her curiosity piqued. “How’d you get in?”
“I found a spare set of keys inside one of the kitchen drawers.” He gave her a sly grin. “But Hughes doesn’t know that.”
She grinned right back. “That’s so devious. I love it.”
He placed his hand over his heart and spoke in a lofty tone. “Normally I prefer to use my powers for good rather than evil, but in this case, I’ll make an exception.” He jangled the keys. “Though I should find a better place to hide these than the kitchen. Somewhere Hughes wouldn’t ever think to look.”
Dusty toed aside a pile of laundry and peeked under the bed. No booze. But she hit the jackpot when she opened the doors to his wardrobe. Along the bottom was a neatly arranged row of bottles: brandy, cognac, and raki, a Turkish liqueur with an aniseed flavor. Upon spotting three bottles of wine, she let out a cry of delight. “KK. This is good stuff.”
“KK?”
“Kacelik Karasi. A local red, like pinot noir. Let’s grab a bottle.”
“You don’t want something stronger?”
She considered stealing a bottle of raki, but it was powerful stuff. She couldn’t risk them getting drunk. Whatever happened tonight, she wanted them to rememberall of it. “Nope. This is perfect. We should eat something, too, since we’re missing out on dinner. Let’s scrounge through the leftovers and put together a meze platter.”
In the kitchen, she set out a large ceramic platter and loaded it with odds and ends from the fridge and the pantry—beyaz peynir cheese, sour green olives, sliced tomatoes, spiced nuts, grapes, figs, and pita bread, along with hummus from yesterday’s dinner. Stuart carried the platter outside to the picnic table while she brought the wine and the glasses.
She poured them each a glass of wine, then raised hers in a toast. “To Operation Aphrodite.”
Stuart clinked his glass against hers. “I’ll drink to that.”
When his sea-blue eyes captured hers, his tender gaze made her heart soar. “I missed you.”
“Same here. Not just on-site but at night, too. Getting to be alone with you, even for a few minutes. That’s probably why this week has been rougher than usual.”
His troubled expression brought her earlier guilt racing back. “Were things rough at the site? Sorry if I made it harder for you.”
“Don’t be. It wasn’t just because of that incident with Wagner.” Stuart popped an olive into his mouth. “Hughes’ behavior has gotten more erratic. This morning, he yelled at his team, claiming they were working too slow because they haven’t uncovered any more skeletons. He’s worried the ones we’ve found are just isolated examples. Definitely worth studying, but hardly evidence of a burial ground strewn with fallen warriors.”
She sipped her wine slowly, mulling over the information she’d gathered during Operation Odysseus. “When I talked to Dr. Wagner, he hadn’t found anything noteworthy, either, though the potential is there. But he wasn’t nearly as obsessed as Hughes.”
“No one’s as obsessed as he is. It’s so frustrating. He still believes that if he finds something amazing, the scholarly community will magically forget the Turks banished him for ten years. He’s so desperate to regain his former glory that he’s coming across as pathetic.”
Was that why he was so angry? Was it because it was looking more likely that this season wouldn’t yield the success he wanted?
Whatever. At this point, she wasn’t going to expend any more emotional energy speculating about him.
As she sat with Stuart in the cool evening air, all traces of the week’s tension ebbed away. This dinner was exactly what she needed. By the time they’d finished eating—and knocked back all the wine—she’d loosened up considerably. Not quite tipsy but rocking a pleasant buzz. After they brought in the dishes and washed up, she knew exactly what she wanted next. Sex. And lots of it.
Stuart placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. One of those small gestures that made her feel cherished. “I don’t want to pressure you,” he said. “If you’d rather talk tonight, that’s okay. We don’t have to do anything else.”
While she appreciated his thoughtfulness, she didn’t want the platonic, best-friend version of Stuart. She wanted the guy who’d made her the star of his fantasies. “Are you serious? This is our one chance.” She gnawed on her lower lip. “Unless you’re having second thoughts?”
Shit. Was he? She turned to face him, worried he wasn’t ready to take things any further.
The wicked gleam in his eye suggested otherwise. “Never. I was trying to be a gentleman.”
“Well, knock it off. I want to see your wild side.”
He laughed. “Glad to oblige. But let’s go to my room in case the others come home early. I don’t want to get caught in the act.”
The thought made her wince with discomfort. “Em would never let me live that down.”
