My Love at Last Page 3

  “Let’s get one thing straight, Mr. Lawson. I’m a professional. I don’t need to wheedle my way into any situation to get what I want. And I certainly don’t need the all clear from you to do my job.”

  The rain had gone from a plop to a sprinkle.

  He held his hands up, palms facing her. “If you say so.”

  Her shoulders tightened, as did her expression.

  “There aren’t many people that I run into that don’t want something. There’s always some agenda.” His dark, haunted eyes moved by degrees across her face.

  “Every now and then, Mr. Lawson,” she said softly, “there’s an exception to your rule.”

  The rain came down harder.

  He shifted his weight to relieve the sudden throb in his pants. “I have to wait for the roofers to finish,” he repeated, as if the statement would send her on her way.

  Thunder rumbled like the stomach of a starving man.

  “Do you mind if I wait with you? I’d like to take a look around.” She wiped water from her face.

  He knew damned good and well that was a very bad idea. But what the hell. If they had to work together they may as well be cordial. “Sure. Come on before we really get drenched.” He took her arm and hustled her down the ridge to the main building. “And maybe you can call me Connor again,” he shouted over the roll of thunder.

  “We’ll see, Mr. Lawson,” she teased, as they ran like children chased by the bolts of lightning that lit up the early afternoon sky.

  Connor chuckled to himself as he pushed open the door. She would. If he wasn’t sure about anything else today, he was sure of that.

  The interior was dark, more so because of the lack of sunlight. Olivia shook off the water while Connor turned on the generator that lit the lights.

  “No place like home,” he joked as dirt and dust swirled in the air and settled.

  Olivia wiped water from her face and looked around. Immediately she was thrown back in time. She could feel the spirits of the ancestors who had found their new lives and freedom within these walls. The energy was palpable. She wrapped her arms around her body and slowly walked around, taking in as much as she could in the muted light. She ran her hand along the scarred oak mantel of the hearth, the frames of the makeshift windows, the warped wood of the walls.

  Connor closely watched the awe move in slow waves across Olivia’s face, the wonder in her eyes. He knew what she was feeling. He’d been there, felt it whenever he worked on a project like this.

  She spun toward him. “This place is amazing.” Her eyes were wide as she lifted her gaze to the rafters of the cabin. “The write-ups and diagrams do it no justice. I can’t wait to get started. How many buildings have you worked on so far?”

  “We’ve done mostly shoring-up work. The structures are pretty worn and weak from water damage, rot and age. Before we can do any restoration we have to make sure the structures are stable.”

  “Of course,” she said in a faraway voice, while she continued to explore. “There’s so much history here that’s not visible to the naked eye.”

  Connor leaned casually against the wall. He folded his arms. “What had you planned on doing first?”

  Olivia focused on him. She exhaled slowly. “I’d like to examine anything that has been left behind — chairs, boxes, cabinets, bedding, old clothing, photos, papers, draperies, all the artifacts. Pretty much any and everything beyond the actual structures. What I want to do is to begin to build a picture, piece together the story of this community and try to match it up with any written documentation.”

  Connor grinned. “My job is so much easier than yours.”

  She returned his smile. “This is the fun part — the hunt, the discovery.” She walked to the far side of the room. “Mind if I take some pictures?” She already had her camera out before he had a chance to respond.

  “What if I’d said no?”

  Olivia peeked at him from above the camera lens and clicked. “And why would you do that?” she teased in a singsong voice.

  Connor chuckled to himself. This woman was the real thing. She may have been taking pictures, but so was he. He studied her; visually strolled along the dips and curves of her lithe body, memorized the way the dim light lit a honey-tinged fire in her eyes. The energy that wafted from her was an aphrodisiac that whetted his hunger. He shifted his body weight and shoved his hands into his pockets. She bent down to get a snapshot and he took a picture of her luscious rear end. Deep in his chest he hummed in appreciation, and clenched his jaw to keep from groaning out loud. What he wanted to do was snatch her up in his arms and take her breath away with a real kiss, not like the preliminary one of last night.

  The sudden blare of a honking horn brought them both up short.

  “Must be my roofers needing something. Be right back.” He brushed by her on the way out and caught a whiff of scent that nearly stopped him in his tracks. He pulled open the door and stepped out into a steady rainfall.

  * * *

  Once he was gone, Olivia dared to breathe. Her heart pounded and her fingers trembled. She leaned against the wall and momentarily closed her eyes. If there was the slightest thought in her head that working side by side with Connor Lawson was going to be easy, she was dead wrong. Her thoughts were in a jumble when he was in her airspace. It was a wonder she uttered anything that made sense. Crazy. This was so unlike her. But there was something about Connor from the moment she’d laid eyes on him that had unsettled her way down to the essence of her being. Clearly she couldn’t do her job if she didn’t get her head in the game. Maybe she should just go to bed with him and get it out of her system. Both of their systems — because she knew he felt the same way.

  She ran her fingers through her damp hair. Yes, that was what she’d do. Screw his brains out and then she could think clearly.

  The door pushed open. Connor stood in the doorway with the darkened sky as his backdrop, and the raw, animal energy that pushed out of his pores was palpable. His shirt was soaked and clung to the hard outline of his chest, the concave slope of his belly. She wouldn’t look any farther. She didn’t dare.

  Connor wiped water from his face. “It’s getting pretty messy out there. I need to hang around until they’re done with the emergency work. You should probably head on out.”

  To Olivia’s ears he didn’t sound very convincing about why she should leave. Her heart thumped and thumped. “Um, how long do you think they’ll be?”

  “An hour, maybe less. They’re working fast. Fortunately they got started just before it really started coming down. Now it’s a matter of securing what they’ve put up.”

  “I’m not really in a hurry.” She gave a slight shrug of her left shoulder.

  He hesitated for a moment, weighed the options. “I guess I could show you some of the other structures if you don’t mind getting wet.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Come on. I’ll show you where the property begins… at least where we think it does.” He walked to the door and held it open.

  Olivia gathered her things, stuck her camera back in her bag and walked toward him. She stopped in the doorway and was reminded once again of the pure virility of the man when the top of her head brushed beneath his chin and her shoulder came in contact with the rock hard chest. Tremors skittered along her spine and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

  Connor snatched up an umbrella that was leaning against the wall, stepped out and popped it open. “Don’t want you to get too wet.”

  Olivia licked away the retort with a swipe of her tongue. She was already wet in ways that he could only imagine. “Thanks,” she said instead, and ducked under the offered shelter, closing the space between them.

  Connor guided her along the roughed-out path that led to a row of what could barely be called buildings. They were the
equivalent of children’s drawings, sitting at odd angles due to years of the makeshift foundations sinking into the ground. Doors were askew or missing altogether. Some structures reminded her of Halloween jack-o-lanterns, with dark cutouts for the missing windows and gouged-out ragged steps that appeared to laugh at the observers. But Olivia knew that the exterior was only the pathway to hidden treasures beyond the weather-beaten walls.

  They stopped at the roofers’ truck.

  “We should be done in about another twenty minutes or so, Mr. Lawson,” the foreman said. “Your men did a good job of getting the temporary tarp up. We’re finishing with the sealing and checking for leaks. When you’re ready we’ll be back for something more permanent.”

  “Thanks, Bobby. Oh, this is Dr. Olivia Gray. She’s doing some research so you may run into her again.”

  Bobby tugged off his glove and stuck out his hand. “Pleasure. What kind of doctor?”

  “Anthropologist.”

  A cloud of confusion moved across his face, which was crisscrossed with lines from years of working under the beating sun. “Sounds important.”

  Olivia smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

  Connor cupped Olivia’s elbow and guided her toward another of the buildings.

  “Watch yourself coming up the steps,” he warned. He extended his hand to help her and sent a jolt of something tingly racing up her arm when his fingers wrapped around hers.

  Olivia sidestepped a gaping hole and hopped up the last step. Connor opened the door.

  The interior was dim, the barest hint of light inching through a sliver of space between the slatted wood walls. The odd shapes of old furnishings draped in sheets and dust cast cartoonish images on the walls and hard-packed dirt floor.

  Connor flipped a switch and the portable floodlight pushed soft white light into the space, throwing every object into sharp relief.

  Olivia’s eyes adjusted and she was instantly taken back hundreds of years. In the corner, the old wood-burning stove still held the huge cast-iron pot waiting to be filled. Spectral images moved around the square room, carrying wood, sweeping the floors, laughing, kissing, arguing. Children played and babies cried.

  Olivia jumped when Connor touched her arm. She blinked and it was only the two of them.

  “You okay?”

  She swallowed and focused on his expression of concern, the way his sleek dark brows drew close. That was when she realized that her heart was racing. “Yes. Fine. This all feels a bit surreal.”

  He pushed out a breath. “I know exactly what you mean. I felt the same way the first time I came into this room. I felt a presence, a warmth.”

  “Exactly!” She wouldn’t tell him that she swore she’d seen images of the former inhabitants. She didn’t what him to think that she was crazy. She didn’t want to think that she was crazy. “It’s all so amazing.” She walked around the space, ran her hand along the knobby wood, stooped down to get a better look at the stone hearth.

  Connor stepped back into the shadows of the room to better watch her movements. He leaned against the wall, studied the precision and economy of everything that she did and wondered what she would be like under his touch. Would she forego her efficiency and take her time, let him take his time? He didn’t want her perfect. He wanted her raw and real, no holds barred.

  The sound of clicking and soft flashes of light snapped him to attention.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” Olivia said, as she moved fluidly around the space, snapping photos. “Couldn’t resist.” She swung around in his direction and took three pictures in rapid succession. She lowered the camera and smiled at him. “Now you’re a part of history.”

  Connor chuckled. He took a step toward her. The shout of his name, along with the sound of knocking, stopped him. His jaw reflexively tightened. He turned to the door and pulled it open.

  The roofer stepped in out of the rain. “All done, Mr. Lawson.” He wiped the water from his face. “Sealed everything. It should hold you until we can get in and do the real work that’s needed.”

  “Good.” Connor nodded his head. “Thanks for coming out on such short notice, Bobby.” He stuck out his hand, enclosing the smaller hand of the roofer in a firm grip.

  “Anytime.”

  “Let’s take a quick look at what got done before your crew heads out.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Lawson.” He stepped back outside.

  Connor turned toward Olivia. “Ready?”

  “Sure.” She put her camera back in her tote and hoisted it onto her right shoulder.

  Connor took the umbrella from the corner and handed it to Olivia. He turned off the floodlight and everything was momentarily reduced to memory. Connor pushed open the door and she saw his silhouette return, flush against the dull gray afternoon.

  Olivia opened the umbrella and gingerly inched around the hole in the step and down onto solid ground. Connor followed, then ducked beneath the umbrella, reflexively scooping his arm around her waist. It was intimate, cocooned together, shielded from the elements and separated from the world around them.

  She forced herself to concentrate on not tumbling into some unseen ditch, rather than the heat and soap-and-water scent of Connor’s body, which was barely a breath away from hers.

  “What’s on your agenda for the rest of the day?” Connor asked as he gently guided her down the short incline toward her parked car.

  Olivia cleared her throat. “I have some research to do. I need to review all of my notes and start mapping out a workable schedule.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “I’m hoping as soon as tomorrow.” It was part question, part statement. She quickly glanced at his rugged profile, his jaw outlined in a well-trimmed five-o’clock shadow.

  They stopped in front of her vehicle.

  He faced her. “Hopefully we won’t get in each other’s way.” His gaze held her fixed to the spot.

  Olivia held her breath, certain that he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to.

  Thunder slowly rolled across the heavens.

  Connor reached around her and opened the door. “Give me a call when you’re on your way.”

  A wave of disappointment swam through her. She blinked it away and smiled. “Sure.” She slid in behind the wheel. Her eyes rolled up to him and suddenly everything disappeared as he leaned down and covered her mouth with his. Only for an instant, but long enough to reawaken the taste of him, heat her in the center of her belly. Then it was over, but her heart still raced.

  “Drive safely.” He stroked her cheek with the barest tip of his finger. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

  Olivia swallowed and ran her tongue along her bottom lip. All she could do was nod her head in agreement.

  Connor shut her door and stepped back.

  Olivia fumbled with the key, finally got it in the ignition and turned on the car. When she looked out her window, Connor was halfway across the grounds and soon disappeared behind one of the buildings.

  Chapter 3

  Connor returned to the makeshift office, took off his wet jacket and hung it on a hook behind the door. For a moment he shut his eyes and drew in a long, deep breath. He shouldn’t have let her go. He should have invited her to… something, whatever it took to keep her with him a bit longer.

  He shook his head. Crazy. Losing his grip over some woman that he barely knew? What was that about? His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out. It was a call from Jake.

  “Hey, Jake. What’s up?”

  “Just checking. The roofers done?”

  “Yeah, they left a little while ago. Everything looks good. We should be okay.”

  “Great. Listen, me and some of the fellas are in town catching a few beers and the game.”

  Connor didn’t make it a habit of hanging out with h
is crew. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy their company. It was more that he was mindful of crossing the line from employer to friend. But today he didn’t feel like being in his own company. To do that would keep him under the spell of whatever it was that Olivia Gray had cast over him. Maybe a roomful of male testosterone fueled by beer guzzling and cussing, and further incited by the sight of bodies crashing into each other on the field, was what he needed.

  “Yeah, yeah, I think I will. Everyone at McCoy’s?”

  “Back room.”

  Connor chuckled. “A regular party. See you in a few.” He disconnected the call and was actually looking forward to some male bonding.

  * * *

  By the time Connor arrived at McCoy’s the weather had somewhat cleared. At least the rain had stopped, but it left behind a misty residue that hung waiflike above the town. Connor found a parking spot in the lot behind the bar, then joined the crew inside.

  The back room of McCoy’s was about the size of a small classroom. A fifty-inch television was mounted on the paneled wall, wooden circular tables with spindle-backed chairs dotted the plank-wood floor and in the far corner was a jukebox with nothing more current than hits from the eighties.

  McCoy’s prided itself on the bare essentials of its establishment. What it lacked in ambience it made up for with some of the best wings, ribs, steaks and burgers this side of the Mississippi, and drinks that could lay you on your ass, not like the watered-down stuff at some of the higher-end restaurants. McCoy’s was a sports pub through and through.

  “Connor, over here.” Jake stood and waved him over to a back table.

  Connor acknowledged the faces he knew with a lift of his chin as he passed by. The room was in full swing and the one waitress that was assigned to the space had her hands full keeping up with the orders. He made his way around the tables and pulled up a chair.

  “First things first,” Connor said as he sat down. “What’s the score and how long will it take to get a drink?”

  The table of five laughed heartily and brought Connor up to speed on the game. They were split down the middle between the Giants and the Redskins. There was money and booze on the table. It could go either way. Connor tossed his hat in with the Giants, ordered a bourbon neat and a burger with all the trimmings.