One Night With The Texan. Lauren Canan
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?”
“It’s a...a spider.”
“What?”
“A sss-spider,” she sobbed, becoming aware that she was sitting on the ground, almost naked, her T-shirt hanging from a tree limb and her pants flung to the side. She wasn’t immediately sure what had happened to her shoes.
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