“That’s a selling point?” he asked, surprised.
“Of course it is. You live deep inside yourself. You won’t let yourself feel anything, because it’s a form of weakness to you. Something must have hurt you very badly when you were younger.”
“Don’t pry,” he said gently, but the words warned.
“If I hang around with you very much, I’m going to pry a lot more than this,” she informed him.
He considered that. He had cold feet where Phoebe was concerned. She wasn’t the sort of person who’d settle for a shallow relationship. She’d want to go right to the bone, and she’d never let go. He was like that, too, but he’d been burned badly once, by a woman who liked him because he was a curiosity
“I’ve been collected already,” he said quietly. “Do you understand?”
She saw the brief flash of pain in his eyes and nodded slowly. “I see. Did she want to show off her indigenous aborigine to all her friends?”
His jaw tautened and something dangerous flashed in his eyes.
“I thought so,” she murmured, watching the faintest of expressions in his face. “Did she care at all?”
“I doubt it very much.”
“And you found out in a very public way, no doubt.”
His head inclined.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Life teaches painful lessons.”
“Have you had any yet?” he returned bluntly.
“Not that sort,” she admitted, toying with her fork. “I’m rather shy with men, as a rule. And boys I went to school with either saw me as one of them or somebody’s sister. Digging isn’t very glamorous.”
“I thought you looked cute in mud-caked boots and a jacket three times your size.”
She glared at him. “Don’t start.”
His dark eyes slid over her dress. It wasn’t in the least revealing. It had a high lace collar and long sleeves gathered tight at the wrists. It cascaded down in folds to her ankles and under it she was wearing very stylish granny shoes. Her platinum hair was in a neat braid down her back. She wore a minimum of makeup and there was a tiny line of freckles right over her nose.
“I know I’m not pretty,” she said, made uncomfortable by the close scrutiny, “and I’m built like a boy.”
He smiled. “Are you still naive enough to think that looks matter?”
“It doesn’t take much intelligence to see that pretty girls get all the attention in class.”
“At first,” he agreed.
She sighed. “There are so few boys who like to spend an evening listening to exciting discoveries like a broken bowl of charred acorns and half a soapstone pipe.”
“Mississippian,” he recalled, from their discussion about the find last year.
She beamed. “Yes! You remembered!”
He smiled at her enthusiasm. “I did a few courses in cultural anthropology,” he confessed. “Not physical anthropology,” he emphasized. “And so help me, if you say anthropology should be right up my alley…!”
“You didn’t tell me that in Charleston,” she said.
“I didn’t expect to see you again,” he replied. He hadn’t even planned to come to her graduation. He wasn’t sure if he regretted being here or not. His dark eyes searched her pale ones. “Life is full of surprises.”
She looked into his eyes and felt a stirring deep in her heart. She looked at him and felt closer than she’d ever been to anyone.
The waitress brought salads, followed by steak and vegetables, and they ate in silence until apple pie and coffee were consumed.
“You’re completely unafraid, aren’t you?” he asked as he finished his second cup of coffee. “You’ve never really been hurt.”
“I had a crush on a really cute boy in my introductory anthropology class,” she said. “He ended up with a really cute boy in Western Civ.”
He chuckled. “Poor Phoebe.”
“It’s the sort of thing that usually happens to me,” she confessed. “I’m not terribly good at being womanly. I like to kick around in blue jeans and sweatshirts and dig up old things.”
“A woman can be anything she wants to be. It doesn’t require lace and a helpless attitude. Not anymore.”
“Do you think it ever did, really?” she asked curiously. “I mean, you read about women like Elizabeth the First and Isabella of Spain, who lived as they liked and ruled entire nations in the sixteenth century.”
“They were the exceptions,” he reminded her. “On the other hand, in Native American cultures, women owned the property and often sat in council when the various tribes made decisions affecting war and peace. Ours was always a matriarchal society.”
“I know. I have a B. A. in anthropology.”
“I noticed.”
She laughed softly. Her fingers traced a pattern around the rim of her coffee cup. “Will I see you in D.C. if I get the job at the Smithsonian?”
“I suppose so,” he told her. “You put me at ease. I’m not sure it’s a good thing.”
“Why? Are you being tailed by foreign spies or something and you have to stay on edge because they might attack you?”
He smiled. “I don’t think so.” He leaned back. “But I’ve had some experience with intelligence work.”
“I don’t doubt that.” She searched his eyes. “Is it expensive to live in D.C.?”
“Not if you’re frugal. I can show you where to shop for an apartment, or you might want to double up with someone.”
She kept her eyes on the coffee cup. “Is that an invitation?”
He hesitated. “No.”
She grinned. “Just kidding.”
His fingers curled around hers, creating little electrical sparks all along the paths of her nerves. “One day at a time,” he said firmly. “You’ll learn that I don’t do much on impulse. I like to think things through before I act.”
“I can see where that would have been a valuable trait in the FBI, with people shooting at you,” she said, nodding.
He let go of her hand with an involuntary laugh. “God, Phoebe…! You say the most outrageous things sometimes.”
“I’m sorry, it slipped out. I’ll behave.”
