My Love at Last Page 7

  “Hey.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His warm, dark eyes moved over her.

  “Hey,” she whispered back. She brushed the dirt from her hands.

  Connor walked down the short incline and knelt beside her. “What are you doing?”

  She explained her goal and the process, while Connor studied her samples.

  “So these pebbles and soil can tell you things, huh?”

  She grinned. “You sound a bit cynical, Mr. Lawson.”

  “Not really.” He twirled a blade of grass between his fingers. “I guess I never thought much about the smaller pieces of the puzzle. My focus has always been on rebuilding, re-creating, not what it took to make it.” He turned to her. “Guess that’s where you come in.”

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “We all have a purpose.”

  “And we all know our roles and responsibilities.”

  Olivia flinched at the edge in his tone and knew instantly that it was a result of her conversation with Jake.

  “And one of mine is verifying, at every stage of the reno, that all of the materials that I use on a project are the original materials, from glass to shingles and every cut of wood. I built my business and my reputation on authenticity.” His dark eyes bored into hers. He pushed out a breath and softened his tone. “How about we both accept the fact that we know what we’re doing.”

  Olivia pressed her lips together and the knot in her chest loosened. She could read that so many ways. “I could agree to that.”

  He watched her for a moment before he reached out and brushed a stray hair away from her face. His fingers lingered on her cheek. “I thought about you all night.”

  Her throat clenched. “So did I… about you.”

  Connor leaned closer. His hand drifted down from her cheek to rest for a moment on her shoulder before slowly tracing the rise of her breast beneath her white cotton shirt.

  Her breath caught. For a moment her eyelids fluttered.

  She heard his deep groan an instant before his mouth covered hers. This kiss was no kiss of invitation, or one that asked permission. It was immediately raw and demanding and insistent on having its way with her.

  Connor cupped the back of her head, threaded his fingers through the wild tangle of her hair and pulled her close. His tongue dipped into her mouth, explored it, made it his own.

  Olivia gave in, gave all. Her fingers pressed into the hard muscle of his arms to keep from floating away.

  “I could make love to you right here, right now,” he groaned against her mouth. He pulled away, stared into her eyes. “But I’ll wait.” He pushed to his feet and extended his hand to her. She took it and he pulled her up. “I’ll let you get back to work.” He turned and walked away.

  “Damn,” she whispered, as she memorized the way his jeans hung on his waist, and that easy swagger that made you say, “Hmm.” How was she supposed to concentrate on her work after that? She touched her fingers to her lips. “You better not wait long, Mr. Lawson.”

  * * *

  Connor strode down the hill and along the trail that led back to the homestead. He lifted his chin in greeting to several of the crew that he passed. He went straight to the office, and shut the door behind him. The heels of his work boots cracked across the wood floor. He banged his fist against the desk and uttered an expletive.

  What was he thinking? Anyone could have walked up on them. Forget about what they may have thought about him. He’d put her reputation in jeopardy. He wasn’t thinking with his head, at least not the one sitting on his neck.

  He blew out a breath. He needed to get with Olivia and have her put out this fire so that he could go on with his life as if he had some sense.

  * * *

  By one o’clock, Olivia was hot, sweaty and hungry. She’d collected several bags of samples, took numerous photos and made her notes. She arched her back and stretched. She was done for now.

  She gathered her things and began the walk back to her car. The hum and bang of construction had quieted, as the men were on their lunch break. Several groups sat on hoods of trucks or on crates, chowing down on thick hero sandwiches and guzzling cool drinks. Connor was not among them. A distant rumble thundered in her stomach. She pressed her hand against her empty belly and kept going.

  Olivia opened the driver’s-side door and tossed her bag inside. When she came around to the other side she stopped short. “Connor.”

  “You were going to leave without saying goodbye.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I didn’t see you on my way back.”

  He opened her door. “What are you doing tonight?”

  Her pulse quickened. “Um, I didn’t have any plans. Why?”

  “I’ll pick you up at seven, treat you to my famous jambalaya.” He grinned and her knees weakened.

  She rested her weight on her right side and looked into his eyes, which seemed to sparkle with bad-boy mischief.

  “I’m sure I’ll be hungry by then.” She slid into the car and stuck the key into the ignition. She turned to him.

  “What do you like for breakfast?”

  Her nostrils flared. She pulled the door shut and slowly pulled away. “Wow.”

  * * *

  Connor watched her drive away with a self-satisfied look on his face. Tonight couldn’t get here fast enough.

  Chapter 6

  Olivia returned to her cottage and dropped her bag on the foyer table. She spun around in circles, ran her fingers through her hair, then let out a whoop of giddy delight. She did her own version of twerking, then skipped over to the fridge to find something to eat.

  No sooner had she sat down with her lunch of cream-of-mushroom soup and a three-inch-thick grilled chicken sandwich than her cell phone rang. She picked it up and frowned at the number on the face.

  “Hi, Victor.”

  “I thought I’d call first this time. I was hoping we could get together sometime today.”

  Olivia stifled a groan. “Did you have a time in mind? I was just having my lunch.”

  “I could stop by now, or maybe we could talk over dinner. I spotted some pretty nice places here in town.”

  Dinner was definitely out. “You can stop by now if you want.”

  “Great. I’ll be there in about a half hour or so.”

  “Sure,” she answered halfheartedly. “See you then.” She set the phone down. The call from Victor took the icing off her cake. Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. They’d talk, she’d bring him up to date and he’d be on his way so that she could focus her energies on the home-cooked dinner with Connor.

  Olivia finished her lunch and set up her laptop on the coffee table to be able to show Victor the images that she’d shot so far, along with her notes and samples. She was in the middle of pouring a glass of iced tea when her bell rang. She crossed through the open living room to the front. Preparing herself, she drew in a breath of resignation and pulled the door open. She put on her best smile. “Victor. Hi. Come in.”

  As always, Victor was impeccable. He was the kind of man that you could never imagine getting dirt under his fingernails. Until he’d met Olivia and they’d launched into their brief though passionate affair, he’d never owned a pair of jeans. He had some on now, perfectly cut, just the right color, and looking as if they’d come right off the shelf. He’d opted for a pair of chocolate Italian loafers, an open-collared pale blue shirt and designer sports jacket. This was as casual as Victor Randall got, and of course he smelled divine.

  Olivia stepped aside to let him pass, but not before he bussed her cheek with a light kiss.

  “Looking well, as always,” he said as he walked inside. He gave the space the once-over, then turned to her. “Nice. Better than a hotel.”

  “It has its perks. I set everything up in the livi
ng room. Can I get you something to drink, coffee, tea, juice?”

  “Coffee would be great. I haven’t reached my five-cup quota,” he quipped.

  “Be right back. Black with two sugars, right?”

  Victor smiled. “You remembered.”

  His tone had a bit too much intimacy in it for Olivia’s taste. She wasn’t going to slip down that slope. She went into the kitchen and prepared his coffee and then joined him in the living room. She set the mug down on the table.

  Victor was already scrolling through the photos. “Thank you,” he murmured without looking up.

  Olivia sat in the club chair.

  “These pictures will make great archival documentation, Olivia.”

  She watched his expression and body language become energized as the wheels in his great mind spun. It was the thing that had attracted her to him in the beginning — his unbridled passion for his work. Unfortunately, that was where his passion came to an end. He was turned on by work. Work was his aphrodisiac. Beyond that, Victor was a gorgeous shell.

  “I started collecting the samples from the surrounding grounds. I’ll begin with the buildings this week.”

  “Good. I’d like to see everything firsthand.”

  Her stomach jumped. She crossed her legs. “Checking up on me?”

  “That’s the second time you asked me that.” He looked across at her, tried to see behind the placid exterior.

  “Second time you gave me a reason to.”

  He leaned back against the cushions of the sofa, crossed his ankle over his knee and looked at her. “I’m not checking up on you. At least not in the way you think.”

  “What way is it that I’m thinking?”

  “That my interest is work related.”

  “Well, isn’t it?”

  “Not entirely.”

  She didn’t like the direction of the conversation one bit. She folded her arms. “Meaning?”

  “I came down here for more than work. I know that you are perfectly capable of handling this assignment on your own.” He glanced away for a moment as if debating his next words. “I’ve been thinking about us.”

  “Victor—”

  He held up his hand to stave off her rebuttal. “Listen to me for a moment. That’s all I ask.”

  She pushed back into her seat and folded her arms again. “I’m listening.”

  “I know that we had a good thing at one time and it was my fault, my selfishness that got us off track. Much of it had to do with my own ambition, my tunnel vision when it came to work. But in the time that we have been apart… I realize how much I miss you and want you in my life.”

  Olivia slowly shook her head and said, “Things can’t work between us, Victor. You’re my boss and… we’ve both moved on.”

  He leaned forward to press home his point. “That’s what I really came here to tell you. After this assignment is over, I’ll be leaving The Institute.”

  “Leaving?” She frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “I was offered the position of chair at the Center for Archeological Research in DC. I start in a month.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed. This didn’t make sense. Out of the blue. “But… I thought you loved what you did at The Institute.”

  “I do. But this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’ll have my own team. Pick and choose projects from around the world. I’ll be working with some of the most talented researchers in the field.” He paused. “And I recommended you to take my place.”

  Her back straightened. “What!”

  He smiled. “I recommended you and the board gave their tentative approval. Your contract will be up after this project. It would be the perfect time to take you from the precarious position as a contract worker to a permanent one with your own department. You’ve earned it.”

  “Victor… I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes, and I can make it yours.”

  Her heart thumped in warning. “I… I have to at least sleep on it.”

  “Of course. But I’ll need your answer before I return.”

  “Right… of course,” she said absently, her mind spinning in a million directions.

  “So,” he said, then took a long breath. He zeroed in on her face. “We won’t be boss and employee anymore.”

  Her gaze flew to his to see the light of invitation hovering around his mouth. There was the catch.

  “We’ll be free to see where things can go.” He pushed up from his seat and stood. He stared down into her upturned face. “Think about it. Everything.” He walked toward the door. Olivia followed.

  “I’ll meet you down at the site tomorrow, say about one?”

  “Sure.”

  He opened the door and stepped outside. He turned to her. “This is a good thing. For everyone. See you in the morning.”

  Olivia stood in the doorway and watched him drive away before she returned inside. Director of The Institute. It was a dream that always seemed out of reach. But now… However, she had a deep-seated feeling that it wasn’t going to be as easy as signing on the dotted line. Victor did very little out of the kindness of his heart. He would want something in return. Her.

  Chapter 7

  The local jazz station played an old Billie Holiday classic, “My Man,” while Connor cut and chopped the peppers and sausage and prepared the spices for his jambalaya. He took a swallow of bourbon as he worked.

  He was truly looking forward to the evening. He didn’t cook for many women and he certainly didn’t invite them to his place with the real intention of getting to know them, spend quality time. But from the very beginning Olivia Gray was different. All his standard patterns of behavior had gone out the window. Deep in his gut he understood that Olivia wasn’t the kind of woman that would deal with his half-ass way of engaging in relationships. Maybe that was the attraction.

  Connor opened the fridge and took out the tray of deveined shrimp that had been marinating overnight and placed it on the counter. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was almost three. He placed all the ingredients in the slow cooker. By six it would be perfect, then he would add the rice and let it all simmer for another hour.

  He strode out of the kitchen just as his cell phone rang. He tugged it out of his pocket, saw the name on the face of the phone and thought about letting it go straight to voice mail. But that wouldn’t matter, not to Adrienne.

  With reluctance, he pressed the green talk icon. “Yes, Adrienne.” His voice was a flat monotone.

  “At least pretend that you’re glad to hear from me,” she whined.

  “How are you, Adrienne?” he responded instead.

  “Better now that I hear your voice.”

  “I’m busy.”

  “I… was thinking about you. I wanted to know how you are.”

  “I’m fine, really. As I’m sure you are.”

  “I read an article in Historic Restoration Magazine about the work you’re doing down in Sag Harbor. How is it going?”

  “Going well. Day by day.”

  “You were always so modest about your work and your accomplishments. That was one of the things I really loved about you.”

  “Adrienne—”

  “I just got back into New York for an, uh, project I’m working on,” she quickly interjected, “and I thought about coming out there. Maybe we could get together for drinks… for old times’ sake.”

  “Old times’ sake? You’re kidding, right? Nothing good could come out of us having a drink together.”

  “Why do you have to be so difficult? It doesn’t have to be like this between us. We had something once.”

  “You had something once. I had something else. Look, Adrienne, this conversation isn’t going anywhere. Take care of yourself. I�
��ve got to go.”

  “Connor… wait… I know I messed up. I know I did a lot of things that I can’t take back. But I’m sorry.”

  “Apology duly noted. I’ve got to go. Goodbye, Adrienne.” He disconnected the call before she had a chance to say anything else that would really piss him off. He shoved the phone across the counter as if it could somehow distance him even further from the sound of her voice.

  He flattened his palms on the countertop and lowered his head as a whirlwind of dark thoughts and images of the past whipped through him. He wasn’t going to let a call from Adrienne Forde ruin his mood. Not today.

  Shaking off the effects of a wrong turn down memory lane, he adjusted his attentions toward preparing dinner. Thinking about the evening ahead brought the hint of a smile back to his lips and loosened the tightness across his shoulders. In all honesty, whenever he thought of Olivia he smiled. That was pretty rare for him. Not that he was stoic, but it wasn’t often that a woman brought a smile to his face by simply thinking of her. He shouldn’t be surprised. Everything about Olivia was different from any other woman he’d known — at least so far.

  With the slow cooker under way there was very little to do in terms of preparation. He did want to run into town and pick up a couple bottles of wine before it got late. Although Olivia liked her apple martinis, he wasn’t the best at mixing drinks. Wine would have to do for tonight, unless, of course, she wanted to join him for a shot of bourbon. He grabbed his car keys and cell phone, checked his pocket for his wallet and headed out.

  * * *

  “He’s fixing you dinner at his place?” Desiree asked, her voice climbing in pitch with every word.

  Olivia laughed. “Yes and yes.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned. And you haven’t had sex yet?” she asked in disbelief.