out here,” she added, dangling the sentence like bait.
Joyce Ann swallowed it whole. “Men?”
“That’s right. Especially one. He’s very dashing and romantic, and he’s always talking to me.” Well, that was true, except that the way he was talking to her wouldn’t sound very romantic to her sister.
“Well, he couldn’t be much worse than Harry, I guess,” came the reply.
Christy didn’t like thinking about Harry. He was more of a last resort than a suitor, the kind of man her more staid image attracted. Harry probably wouldn’t have cared for the new her. “Harry’s been nice to me,” she said. “It’s just that he wants a mother for his sons more than he wants a wife.”
“You aren’t desperate enough to marry Harry,” Joyce Ann said firmly. “Now tell me about this Arizona man.”
“He’s sexy and very nice.”
“That’s different,” Joyce Ann said, and laughed. “In that case, I’ll forgive you for worrying me to death. How long are you going to stay?”
“Another week or so.”
“Good, good. Darling, do let me know how things go. And do, please, wear your—”
“Goodnight, Joyce Ann. I’ll keep in touch, I promise!”
She hung up with a long sigh. That was out of the way. Now she could enjoy herself, without having Joyce Ann hang over her shoulder trying to shove men in her path.
The image change was her own idea, though, not her sister’s. She was tired of the routine her life had become. She wanted to do something wild, something different. And people had to take chances and do outrageous things once in a while if they didn’t want to stagnate. So she’d signed on for this expedition, something she’d always longed to do, she’d bought new clothes unlike anything she’d ever worn before, and she’d changed her appearance. There were a few little minor drawbacks, like walking into people, but in the meantime she was having a ball. Until tonight, she’d actually forgotten Harry and his plans for her.
As she got ready for bed, she thought about Nathanial Lang’s attitude toward her. For a man who found her an impossible trial, he’d certainly changed his tune. He’d been almost companionable tonight. She remembered how nervous she’d felt around him at their first meeting, and compared it with the ease of talking to him earlier. It was as if he’d wanted her to be curious about his life, to want to know him as a person. And, she discovered, she honestly did. He wasn’t quite the stick-in-the-mud she’d thought he was. He was much more. She went to sleep on that tantalizing thought.
* * *
The next morning, she was the first one at the breakfast buffet, to her embarrassment. She’d slept fitfully and her dreams had been confusing and vivid, mostly about the elusive Mr. Lang.
But if she hoped to find a new beginning with him, it was a dream gone awry. He stared right through her as he walked past the buffet and kept going. She stood gaping after his tall figure in the tan suit and cream-colored Stetson, wondering what she’d done to antagonize him now. Probably, she sighed as she put a tiny amount of food on her plate, she’d breathed the wrong way.
“Here, now, Miss Haley, that’s not enough to keep a bird alive,” Mrs. Lang tut-tutted. The small, dark-eyed woman shook her head. “You’ll make me self-conscious about my cooking.”
“Your cooking is delicious,” Christy protested, embarrassed. “It’s just that the, uh, the heat is difficult for me.”
“Oh.” The white lie produced good results, because Mrs. Lang smiled and lost her worried look. “I forget that you’re not used to the desert. But don’t you worry, you’ll adjust soon enough. Just take it easy, drink plenty of fluids and don’t go into the sun without a hat!”
“You can count on me,” Christy said with a jaunty smile.
She sat down alone at a table, picking at her food, while the much older Professor Adamson and his wife Nell smiled politely as they passed and went to their own table. The others drifted in one at a time, yawning and looking dragged out. George noticed Christy sitting alone and made a beeline for her.
“What a beautiful morning.” He grinned as he sat down with a disgustingly full plate and proceeded to eat every bite. “I never get this hungry back in Wichita. Great food, isn’t it? You’re not eating,” he added with a frown.
“I’m so hot,” she said and smiled at him. “I’ll get used to the climate in a day or so.”
“Lots to do today,” he murmured between bites. “Mason’s going to use the laptop to match the pottery fragments we’ve found so far. He spent the night writing a program for it.”
“Computers make me nervous,” Christy confessed. “We have one at school that we’re teaching our second-graders to use, and I’m terrified of it.”
“You should see Mr. Lang’s,” he confided. “He’s got one of those mainframe jobs—you know, the kind that cost twenty grand or so. He uses it to keep his cattle records on, and he’s got some great graphic software that he uses in his mining work. What a setup!”
“He must be pretty smart,” she said.
“Smart doesn’t cover it. The man’s a wizard, they say. A couple of the gang tried to beat him at chess last night. Talk about ego problems…he could checkmate the best of them in three moves or less.”
“I’m glad I don’t play chess.”
“Well, I wish I didn’t,” he said with a grin. “Eat up. Time’s awasting.”
They went out to the dig in the equipment truck again, and Christy settled down to another day of sifting through sand to find pottery fragments.
She was sitting in the shade of the truck with a soft drink from the cooler at lunchtime when the Jeep roared up. Nathanial Lang climbed out of it, still wearing his suit, and looked around the relaxed camp until he located Christy. He studied her from a distance for one long minute and then went and said something to Professor Adamson before he came to join her.
“You’re alone,” he remarked, going down on one knee beside her. “Did George die?”
She gaped at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’m going into Tucson for some supplies I ordered. Come with me.”
Her heart jumped into her throat. “Are you sure you aren’t mistaking me for someone else?” she asked, staring into his eyes at point-blank range. “You walked past me as if you hated the very sight of me not five hours ago.”
“I did, but that was five hours ago,” he said pleasantly. “I’ve checked you out with the professor. He says you can go.”
“I’m not a library book that you can check out… Mr. Lang!”
He’d pulled her up by one hand with apparent ease and she was protesting on the run. He lifted her by the waist, soft drink and all, and put her inside the Jeep, smiling a little as he noticed her attire. Long khaki walking shorts and high beige socks in saddle oxfords, with a lemon
