there’s more treasure?”
Dru laughed. “Sorry boys, you’re about three months too late.”
Rich nodded. “Story of my life. Day late and a dollar short.” He glanced around. “Still, no harm in looking, I suppose.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not true,” Rebecca said instantly. “Brett is excavating the burial mound and that small area at the base of it. Digging elsewhere is prohibited.”
Rich glanced at his two friends. “Whatever you say, boss lady.” He grinned, and there was no malice in his tone.
“Thanks,” Rebecca said. “I’m only following the directives given to me by the owners.”
Dru took his farewells of the men and headed back to his patrol car. He’d been eager to get out of the sheriff’s office when he’d taken the call to Blackthorn. It had been his best decision in weeks.
“Regina Batson is certainly an interesting addition to the team,” Rebecca said lightly. “When she’s around, Brett makes an effort not to be a total bear.”
“Thank goodness someone has a positive effect on him.” Dru shrugged one shoulder. “May I pick you up at seven?” he asked.
“Perfect. Casual?”
There was such hope in her voice that he laughed. “Casual it is. Seafood.”
She smiled. “I’ll be ready.”
CHAPTER TWO
REBECCA WAS GLAD she’d chosen the yellow sundress. Sitting on the dock of the restaurant with a gentle breeze from the Mississippi, she felt sexy and feminine. It was impossible not to, the way Dru Colson was looking at her.
“Why aren’t you married?” Dru asked.
Rebecca laughingly held out her wrists. “Are you going to arrest me before you interrogate me?”
Dru laughed too, but a little self-consciously. “Sorry. I guess that did come out a little on the gruff side.”
“Not gruff, just direct,” Rebecca said. She bit her lip as she decided how much to tell him. “I was engaged. Last year. The wedding was planned, everything.” She hesitated, but she could see in his eyes that he would ask. He wasn’t a man who held back on the questions. “I cancelled the wedding, but Mike didn’t object too strenuously. I think we’d both begun to see that we weren’t meant for each other. We just wanted different things.”
“Like children?” Dru asked.
“Yes.”
“I know exactly how that goes,” he said ruefully. “Celeste, the woman I was involved with for five years, finally gave me the ultimatum—marriage and kids or she was leaving.”
She could see that he still struggled with the loss. “Mike was the same way. He just couldn’t believe that I didn’t want to settle down and start a family.”
Dru’s eyebrows lifted. “You didn’t want the children?”
“Yes, that’s right.” She couldn’t help a wry grin as she realized how shocked he was. It was true. Most women wanted to start families when they were in their late twenties and early thirties. “It isn’t that I don’t like children, it’s just that…” She broke it off. It was impossible to explain. Mike’s mother had said she was unnatural. Mrs. Cuevas had been very angry with Rebecca, and she’d let everyone know it.
“Hey,” Dru said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I understand. I love my nieces and nephews, but I’m just not ready to take on that responsibility. I don’t know that I’ll ever be, and I won’t be railroaded into something that important to please someone else.”
“Exactly!” Rebecca said, and she felt as if Dru did understand. She’d been the eldest of seven children, and all of her life had been spent taking care of others. Once she got out of college, she’d vowed to live her own life for at least fifteen years before she began living for someone else.
“Another drink?”
She looked at the empty Long Island iced tea glass. The drinks were delicious, but potent. She’d never been one to deliberately set herself up for a headache. “Better not.”
“Coffee?”
“That would be great.” She found she wanted to linger on the restaurant’s dock with Dru. They’d spent the entire evening talking about Natchez and Blackthorn and the mound-building Indians who were now the focus of Brett Gibson’s research in Natchez.
As the waitress placed the coffee on the wrought-iron table, Rebecca refastened the elastic band around her honey-colored hair. She’d begun the evening with it down on her shoulders, but the wind whipping off the water had sent it flying. The only solution was scissors or restraint.
“This has been the most relaxing evening I’ve had in months,” Dru said.
“Me, too. Thanks for asking me. Maybe Joey will let me borrow his newfangled kitchen to cook a meal for all of us.”
“I’d like that,” Dru said.
They sipped their coffee and let the warm night sounds drift around them. It was unusual to spend only one evening with a man and feel comfortable enough not to force the conversation. But Dru was different from most men she’d known. He had a quiet confidence that allowed her to relax—to drop the role of hostess and caretaker that had been hers since she was a child.
“Why don’t we leave here and go under the hill?” Dru asked with a grin.
“Under the hill?” Rebecca wasn’t certain what he was talking about. “A cave?”
“It’s a part of town that used to be wide open. Sort of the French Quarter of Natchez,” he said, “like the older part of New Orleans. Back in the days when Natchez was a booming river town, all of the best bars and gambling dens were located ‘under the hill’ or down on the water. It was a rowdy place known for its lawlessness and danger.”
“Until you were elected sheriff?” she asked innocently.
“I’m not quite that old,” he said, pretending to be wounded. “But if I can use my cane, I think I can dance a few numbers with you.”
“I haven’t danced in…a long time,” Rebecca admitted. How long had it been? College? Surely not, but she couldn’t recall another time.
“You don’t forget,” he said. “I have a dirty little secret to tell you if you agree to go.”
“My, my, a lawman who bribes,” she said. “Okay, let’s go. You’ve got my curiosity working overtime.” It was true. Just the hint of a secret was enough to whet her appetite. Dru was only jesting, but it was very effective.
They drove down a street that seemed to drop almost to the water’s edge. As Dru parked the car, Rebecca could already hear the music and laughter coming from several restaurants and bars.
“Sounds young,”
