Her Greek Doctor's Proposal. Robin Gianna
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His smile broadened; he was seemingly amused instead of offended, thank heavens. “Don’t say that out loud, Ms. Evans, or you may find yourself in a no-win argument with angry locals.”
“Is there any other kind of argument with Greeks?”
“Probably not.” The amusement in his eyes became a dangerously appealing twinkle. “I lived in the United States for fifteen years. I know Americans think everyone outside the US and Western Europe are somewhat backward and simple. If you like, I could go up to the temple and consult Apollo. Or perhaps pray to Asclepios for guidance?”
“Not necessary. I’m sure you’re very experienced, Dr. Drakoulias. I just…” Her voice trailed off, because she didn’t know what else to say and had a feeling she might stick her foot in her mouth all over again. She sent him a grateful smile, hoping that would make him look past her blunder. “Thank you for walking all the way up here to let me know. Right now, I need to stay at the site to supervise since Mel’s not going to be here. But I’d like to come down this evening to see them. Where’s your clinic?”
“In Kastorini, which is at the base of the mountain above the gulf waters. Just follow the old bell tower to the center of town—you can’t miss us.”
“What’s the address?”
His straight teeth showed in a smile that gleamed white against his brown skin. An unexpected dimple appeared in one cheek, which added another attractive layer to the man who sure didn’t need it. “There are no addresses in Kastorini, Ms. Evans. We’re small enough that everyone finds their way around without.”
No addresses? How did people get their mail and things? She wasn’t about to ask, though, and make even more of a fool of herself. “Well, I’m sure I can then, too. Thanks.”
“I do have a question for you.” All the teasing humor left his face. “Were both of the Drs. Wagner working in one spot? Somewhere they might have been exposed to a fungus of some kind?”
“Not really. Melanie is in charge of this part of the dig, and Tom leads the dig in the adjacent cave discovered a few years after the initial excavation. Why?”
“Just that it’s unusual for two healthy people to come down with pneumonia at nearly the same time. Which makes looking for an external cause something we need to think about. Has Melanie been in the caves recently?”
Laurel thought hard about what they’d excavated and where they’d dug, but couldn’t come up with anything that might have made them sick. “I’m almost certain she hasn’t been in the caves at all. At least, not since the first days of the dig two months ago. At team meetings, Tom shares the cave dig results weekly, and Melanie shares our results. It’s more efficient that way.”
“All right. We’ll see how they’re both doing tomorrow and decide then if it makes sense to look harder for some connection.” He looked around at the extensive excavation. “I wasn’t living here when Peter Manago tried building a house in this spot and they found the ruins. When was that—five or six years ago?”
Had it been that long? Five years since her family’s shocking loss that had turned her world upside down? A loss that seemed like yesterday, and yet, in other ways, felt like forever ago.
“I think that’s about right.” She swallowed hard at the intense ache that stung her throat. “Have you been up here to check it out?”
“No, but I’ve been wanting to. Is it filled with treasures offered to Apollo and the oracle?” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Everyone who grew up around here used to dig giant holes—or at least giant to us—that we were sure would expose a sphinx, or the Charioteer’s horses, or something else that would make us rich.”
“And were you one of them?”
“Oh, yes. Born and raised in Kastorini. Many a goat has likely fallen into one of my ‘digs.’ But after finding only rocks and more rocks and the occasional very exciting animal bone, I decided becoming a doctor might be a better way to make money.”
She had to laugh. Money was definitely not the reason anyone dug in the dirt for a living. “No doubt about that.”
“You must be finding something, though, or they wouldn’t have been working at it for so long. What’s here?” He looked around at the carefully plotted-out sections of earth. “Tell me about these squares you have marked off.”
“Much of the time when you unearth a site that’s several thousand years old, it’s a bit like a layer cake. The oldest part of a settlement is at the bottom, with artifacts that reflect how the people lived then. Vessels used for cooking, style of art that’s found, even the way a wall might be built, all can change a lot from the bottom of the cake to the top. But this site?” She loved sharing the excitement of this place with people who were interested. “The layers aren’t there. There’s no cemetery. No human remains, despite the number of buildings that housed probably a hundred people at a time. Which convinces us that it was temporary housing for pilgrims visiting Delphi.”
“Interesting. How long, do you think?”
He stopped scanning the site to look at her with rapt attention in his beautiful eyes, and a dazzling smile that momentarily short-circuited her brain. What had she been talking about, exactly? “How long what?”
“How many centuries did the pilgrims come to stay here?”
“Oh.” The man probably thought she was dense. “About five hundred years, we think. Amazing that people came here to consult the oracle and worship Apollo all that time.”
“Did the small earthquake we had a couple weeks ago damage anything?”
That earthquake had scared everyone, but especially Laurel. When the earth had rumbled around them, her heart had about stopped as the vision of how she’d been told her parents had died had surged to the forefront of her mind. The quake had lasted only a few minutes, but her insides had shaken for hours.
“Some rocks and earth loosened and fell into the pits, but it wasn’t too bad, thankfully.”
“That’s good.” He seemed to be studying her and she wondered what her expression was, quickly giving him a smile to banish whatever might be there. “Do you have any photos of the things you’ve found?”
“We do. A number of tools and potsherds have been reassembled and I have pictures in a binder in that box. This section here,” she said, showing him a large, cordoned-off rectangle, “is where several inscribed stones were found that are similar to the ones at the Temple of Apollo.” And one of those stones was etched with the cryptic words that had convinced her mom and dad they’d find the priceless artifact Laurel was still looking for. That part had to be kept secret from most people, but she could show him the rest.
She pulled the reference binder from the supply box and flipped through it to show him a few of the best photos. They stood close together, the hair on his muscular forearm tickling her skin, his thick shoulder nudging hers, his head angled close enough to nearly skim his cheek against her temple. He smelled so wonderful, like aftershave and hunky man, that she found herself breathing him in. So enjoying his interested attention,