and get away from this woman with all possible speed. Making a concentrated effort, he snapped himself out of the daydream. Get a grip.
“I—” He cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you to your work.” He nodded, turned and walked back toward the chopper, his clarity of mind shot to hell.
He hadn’t gone ten feet before he stopped and turned to face her. “Have you ever been to New Orleans, Dr. Finley?”
She squinted her eyes and tilted her head, no doubt finding the question odd.
“It’s where I went to school. So, yes. I spent six years there. Why?”
He shrugged. “You just look like someone I knew once who lived there.” He planted the seed. Now to see how long it would take her to come to figure things out.
A long moment passed between them before he turned toward the helicopter, boarded, started the massive engine, lifted off and flew away.
* * *
“Thanks for welcoming me to the neighborhood,” she muttered to herself as she turned toward her old, battered Ford. What an odd man.
And she couldn’t get over the fact that her mind was screaming, You know him! It was an absurdity. He traveled the world, was worth billions with a capital B, while she worked in the dirt and had barely a thousand bucks in the bank. Still...she couldn’t seem to shake the feeling they had met before. And what was with that question about New Orleans? She’d gone to school there but she surely would remember if she had ever met him. She never ventured far from campus and knew very few that weren’t associated with the college.
In fact, the only real outing she’d had was when she, Mac and Ginger had gotten together after graduation. She’d met a handsome stranger that night. But no way could that man have been Cole Masters. The stranger was nice and showed no arrogance at all. If the stranger had even one penny for every hundred thousand Masters had, he would be doing all right. He could even buy himself some new clothes. They were almost the same size. No doubt that’s what kept bugging her. Pushing the thoughts from her mind she began to unpack the old Ford wagon. Maybe it would come to her eventually.
It took her a while to unpack. Most of her things could be stored inside the trapper’s cabin. It was on the land covered by the court order, so she had no qualms using it. If Cole Masters didn’t like it, she could always set up her tent. A closer inspection confirmed the one-room shack was sturdier than she’d originally thought. It contained an old wood-burning stove and a twin-size bed. The mattress, once white, was now the color of the dirt outside and so old it had been stuffed with peanut shells and cotton. There were holes in the roof and floor and the only window didn’t have any panes. She had camped in worse. She just couldn’t remember when. Her sleeping bag would provide some insulation and the rusty legs of the bed would keep her off the floor, so there was that at least.
She was used to roughing it, but her pregnancy added an extra wrinkle to the situation. Before she’d come here, her doctor had given her the green light—she was in excellent health and should be fine to do her job. But he’d warned her to take care of herself. The cabin would do for now, but she was going to have to keep a close eye on how she was feeling and make sure she didn’t overdo it.
By the time she had unpacked most of her things, the bulldozers had been moved and an area had been marked off by little red flags. It was actually a larger area than she’d first imagined. She would have to thank Mr. Masters for that the next time he came snooping, which, if he was like other land owners, should be in about three days.
Tallie eyed the area to determine the best place to start. Over toward the cliffs, she decided. She would map out a grid and go from there.
She returned to her car for the last of the gear. Her old tent was on the bottom of a pile of equipment. She probably should drag it out and spend some time patching the rips and holes. She hadn’t taken time to patch it after the last dig when the wind had blown it into a huge cactus patch. But she was anxious to start the dig. She would leave it for now and just use the old trapper’s cabin. It was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission anyway. If Mr. Masters wanted her out of the ramshackle building, all he had to do was tell her.
She picked up the bolt of orange string, a handful of wooden stakes and a hammer, and chose a spot most favorable. She wouldn’t finish before the sun set, but every step she could complete today would be one step closer to finding the proof of the lost tribe for her grandmother and the faster she could get back to the museum.
She wasn’t used to working alone, but the silence was nice. She just hoped Masters found other things to occupy his time than coming out to bother her. She didn’t need the veiled threats—or the sexual magnetism that made her heart speed up and her rational thinking, for which she was known, take a high dive off the nearest cliff.
With a sigh she hammered the first stake into the ground. Then another. By sunset she’d marked off an area of about one hundred and twenty square feet, and divided it into smaller sections. She’d been able to examine the first four grids. Tomorrow she would set up the sifting box and, with shovel in hand, she would be on her way to discovery. She hoped.
Grabbing her tools, she returned to the trapper’s cabin, dropped the hammer and remaining stakes on the floor just inside the door and stared at the bed, such that it was. It was going to be a long night.
* * *
Cole walked from the helipad toward the house, still in disbelief, livid that Tallie Finley’s dig was allowed to supersede his project and slow things to a crawl. It was ironic that on the day...the day...they were to pour the foundation she had received her permit from Judge Mitchell and shut Cole down. Unbelievable. Even more incredible was that he’d checked with his lawyers eight ways from Sunday and there was nothing he could do about the court order. The only silver lining was that he would have the opportunity to get to know this irresistible woman much better.
Since the day he’d left college his efforts had focused on company business, improving and doing his part to make Masters Corporation, LLC, one of the leading real-estate companies in Texas if not the entire United States. Days turned into nights that turned back into days as he’d worked. He’d flown countless miles, attended innumerable meetings. But it had always been for the family business; he’d never ventured out on his own. This project to build a world-class corporate retreat where Fortune 500 companies could send their executives for training and relaxation was special in that it was his. It was his chance to accomplish something important without company backing. He would prove his worth to his brothers and, more importantly, to himself. At the age of thirty-four he would finally be able to say, I did that. It wasn’t about the money or acclaim. It was the sense of accomplishment and the pride.
The planning had taken years but the end was in sight. The announcement and a brochure detailing the project had gone out to the business leaders and entrepreneurs on almost every continent in the world. An invitation to tour the site had been sent to several prominent CEOs in the U.S. with the hope they would invest in the project. How uncharacteristically naive of him to think at this stage nothing would go wrong.
He’d never seen it coming. Just like before, when he’d found out about his ex-wife’s cheating, he’d once again been caught with his pants down. If anyone had told him a month ago that a one-hundred-and-twenty-five-pound woman could shut down a multimillion-dollar project with a piece of paper and some orange string, he would have laughed in their face. He wasn’t laughing now. He had to wonder if she was a part of a bigger plan by one of his corporate enemies to sabotage his project. If not, he had to be open to the possibility that she was working on her own in an attempt to gain some of his wealth. Did she know who he was and was
