Trove (The Katie Walsh Mysteries) (3 page)

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Stepping back, Katie studied his face.
What incredible grey eyes,
she thought before she continued the perusal. Smoky grey eyes, almost black, silky straight hair touched with grey at the temples, high cheekbones, and a body that exuded masculinity…
My God
, she wanted to scream,
it can’t be him
. She swallowed, trying to maintain her control as visions of his long body draped over hers flashed before her.
Concentrate, Katie, concentrate
. He was dressed in a navy suit and a pale blue oxford shirt, his tie loose at the neck. He looked every bit the sexy “love ‘em and leave ‘em type,” straight out of a Hollywood film. Yet that’s exactly what
she
did five years ago. She’d picked him up, loved him and left him in the pre-dawn light after that wickedly delicious night.
Oh my God,
it is him
, she moaned inwardly as she forced herself to listen to what he was saying while her heart raced and her breath tried to keep time.

She reached up and tucked her hair behind her right ear as she subconsciously licked her lips. “I can see a physical
resemblance around the mouth and I think you have the same nose.”

But Robert didn’t have a brother, did he? He’d never mentioned it in the almost seven years they’d been friends.
Surely he would’ve mentioned a brother, even if it was only a half-brother
. “So, Dr. MacGowan, how is Bobby?”

“He’s fine. He asked me to remind you that he still owes you a dinner. Oh, and by the way, Dr. Walsh, you know as well as I do that no one, and I mean no one, calls him Bobby. If you want to call him and verify my identity be my guest. Actually…” He reached into his jacket and pulled out his cell phone, giving Katie a glimpse of the muscled chest straining against the confining material, the chest she had explored, caressed, kissed for one night of unbridled, decadent passion. Her fingers itched to wind themselves in the dark hair she knew was hidden under the shirt, to revel in its silkiness. “Allow me.”

The heat spread across her face like wildfire. Was it because he was calling her out for testing him, or was it because she was remembering how his body felt pressed intimately against hers? Hopefully, in the subdued lighting he wouldn’t notice. She reached for his cell phone, the call already connecting. “Hello, Robert?”

“Katie. So he’s found you.”

Her free hand rested on her hip. “Yes. I’m standing here with this guy, and he claims to be your brother. Dark hair, grey eyes, about six-three I’m guessing.”

“Half-brother,” Alec corrected, his elbow propped casually against the high, free-standing cocktail table.

“Excuse me, your half-brother. Who is he?”

“He’s my half-brother Alec MacGowan. He’s an archaeologist.”

“Mm, a digger,” she murmured. “So he’s safe to be around? You know how I feel about diggers. I mean, he’s not a modern day Jack the Ripper-type is he?”
Why, oh why, did he have to be a digger?

Robert’s laugh was clearly audible as her eyes swept from Eric to Alec. Eric looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight from his left to his right foot. Alec wore a smug grin.

“No, Katie, he’s safe to be around. You have my word on that.”

She wished she could believe him. She wanted to ask him why he neglected to tell her, his very close friend, that he had a brother. But this wasn’t the time or place. She sighed. “Thanks. I’ll see you when I get back to Boston.” She ended the call and thrust the phone at him, letting her other hand drop from her hip. “Seems like you’re legit.”

He winked. “Yep, got all my papers in order and I’m housebroken too.”

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips slightly.

“I’ll order the drinks,” Eric offered, interrupting the rising tension between them. “Katie, what would you like?”

“Eric, forgive me. Dr. Alec MacGowan, this is Dr. Eric Murray, geologist.”

Eric extended his hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Dr. MacGowan.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Murray, and please, call me Alec.”

“Fine and call me Eric. May I get you a drink?”

“Yes, thanks,” he replied. “Glenlivet neat.”

Eric grinned. “A man I can respect.” He turned and headed off to the bar, calling back, “Katie, the usual?”

She shook her head. “I’ll take a vodka ginger ale this time,” she called out as he continued to the bar.

“I’ve noticed most of the women here are drinking wine. I can respect a woman who drinks something more robust,” Alec said as he moved to her side of the high-standing table. “And vodka is still your preferred choice.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wine,” she replied, moving to stand opposite him at the table. “It just gets into my system too quickly. I can have a vodka drink and not notice any effect, but one glass of wine and I’m tottering in my heels.” She looked up at him.

He leaned over, captured her gaze, and said in a seductively low voice, “May I say, it’s quite refreshing to see that you’re still capable of blushing.” His eyes drifted to her lips, searing them with just his look. She wet her lips in a reflexive response. He raised his eyes, reconnecting with hers. “I would’ve thought that after our night together five years ago you’d never blush again.”

She closed her eyes as she inhaled sharply, almost choking on the air, and swallowed, then met his gaze. “Please, we agreed to go our separate ways and forget about that night. Don’t bring it up,” she implored, her eyes wide, “
ever
.”

“As I recall, KitKat, we did agree to go our separate ways, which was rather easy considering we didn’t even know each other’s names. But,” he said as he lowered his voice, still holding her gaze, “I’ve never forgotten that night.” He finished just as Eric returned and handed out the drinks.

“Thanks, Eric,” Alec said. “I’ll get the next round.”

“Thanks, Eric. I really need this,” she said as she took a quick sip before setting the glass down, her hands trembling slightly. She locked her eyes on Alec’s hands, willing herself to avoid getting lost in the depths of his steamy grey eyes and long ago memories.

“Katie… may I call you Katie?” Alec asked, his drink nestled between his hands, his thumbs caressing the rim moving slowly back and forth.

She shivered, feeling as if he was caressing her, remembering how well he did it that night five years ago, remembering how his fingers burned her skin and stoked embers that she thought long died out. “Yes, please do,” she practically
begged, afraid he’d call her KitKat again. “I don’t usually stand on ceremony. I generally don’t let people address me as ‘doctor’ for very long. It’s a bit pretentious for my tastes,” she said before lifting her glass, taking a couple of quick sips, and returning it to the table.

“Thanks. My brother talked about your work at the Nordstrom Institute. Actually, he talked about your work to the point where I secured a copy of your doctoral thesis on Celtic and Nordic Mythology. I was really impressed.”

She gripped her glass tighter, trying to calm her nerves.
This was a nightmare
, she thought. If she could just pinch herself, she could end it. “Thanks. I love working at the Institute. Unlike many research organizations, the Nordstrom Institute has deep pockets thanks to very generous benefactors. Plus, employees are encouraged to think outside the box. That’s how I ended up developing my software program.”

She watched him as he casually sipped his scotch. Her nose captured a hint of the rich, earthy aroma as he set his drink on the table. Her senses were heightened, on alert.

“I was intrigued with your premise that, forgive me, but to quote you ‘myths, though shrouded through the mists of time, are based in fact. The challenge lay in determining the basis of the myths.’”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she said, smiling weakly at the compliment and wishing there was normal seating in the room instead of the standing cocktail tables. Her neck was hurting as she was forced to tilt her head back to watch his face. She shifted from one foot to the other. Her feet were starting to hurt and she was just way too close to him. She could feel her body betraying her, wanting to move closer, invade his space, feel his heat. “Celtic and Nordic mythology often play second fiddle to the Titans and their offspring the Olympians. It just doesn’t get the respect it deserves. I’ve actually been working with Eric to try and develop some software that will allow me to
overlay historical and geological data in an attempt to identify mythical sites. Once I’ve identified one and can connect it to a myth, I can then unravel the myth and decipher the true meaning of the legend.”

His gaze caught hers, locking her in place. She tried to break the connection but she just couldn’t bring herself to look away. Damn, she was reacting like a teenager.

“That would be amazing if you’re successful,” Alec said. “As for Celtic and Nordic mythology getting short shrift, I couldn’t agree more. And perhaps because they’re not as well known, there’s much yet to be discovered.” He lifted his glass and took another sip. His arm bumped hers as he set the glass back on the table. She jerked her arm away, feeling the scorch of his touch race up her arm.

He continued, “Wouldn’t it be something if you did identify a site. I could set up an excavation. Who knows what we might find working together, side by side.”

“Aye,” Eric added, “the culture goes back millennia here in the British Isles, much still hidden in the misty past, just waiting to be discovered.”

Alec nodded in agreement. “That’s where I think your creative genius is critical, Katie. I’ve heard nothing but praise regarding the new correlations you’ve extracted from the Institute’s database. And your validated results are proving to be incredible in terms of their depth. You’ve managed to nuance brand new interpretations. ”

“And invalidate a few long-held ones along the way,” she murmured.

“The whole Nordstrom community is clamoring to use her software and the verified results,” Eric said. “The ability to leverage the data across disciplines is just beginning to bear fruit. I was honored when she asked me to work on her overlay project. Actually, I work for the Institute, albeit remotely, thanks to Katie’s recommendation. She’s well respected.”

Katie chuckled softly. “Well, you’re slightly biased, Eric. You know there are some at the Institute that wish I would disappear, especially since my results succeeded in negating their life-long work.”

Eric nodded. “They’re just jealous of your success.”

“Probably, but I’d still watch my back if I were you,” Alec offered. “Research can be a cutthroat business, and yes, it is a business, driven by the bottom line just like the factory that makes widgets, maybe even more so.”

She shrugged. “You know what I find odd, Alec?” she said, tilting her head slightly and continuing before he could answer. “I can’t ever recall Robert talking about you. Are you the black sheep of the family?”

He flashed a smile that sent her already racing pulse into overdrive. “I haven’t been around much. I’m often at a dig somewhere.”

“Yeah, you archaeologists are just like dogs, always digging for bones.” She heard herself speak, not aware until it reached her ears what she’d said. Eric choked slightly on his drink and shot her a disapproving look. She looked at him and offered a half-shrug as if to say “sorry, too late to take it back now.”

“You should try it sometime,” Alec replied, and then raised his glass, languidly sipping his scotch. “The fresh air might do you good. Get you out of the rarified lab air and put a little
more
color in your cheeks.”

She narrowed her eyes, glimpsing the smirk on his face.
What an ego this guy had
. She picked up her drink, sloshing some it over the rim as she raised it quickly to her lips before quietly slurping the excess liquid dripping from the edge of the glass. She swore she could see laughter in Alec’s eyes as she tried to neaten the mess, hoping no one else noticed.

Alec leaned an elbow on the table and asked, “Speaking of digging, have you ever heard of Norland?”

She whipped a furtive look at Eric and then searched Alec’s face, trying to read him. “Norland is a myth and a rather obscure one at that. I can’t imagine why a digger would be interested in a myth. I mean, it’s not as if there’s anything to dig up.” She glanced at Eric but directed the question at Alec. “Why would you ask about it?”

“My brother tells me you’re rather an expert on it. What do you know about it?”

She took a deep breath, choosing her response carefully. She remembered how easy he was to talk to that night. It was as if they’d known each other and were not only comfortable talking together, but were comfortable with the silences. That was a rare thing, comfortable silences. Still she didn’t know him or what he was fishing for. She had to be careful. “Well… Norland is believed to have been a settlement somewhere on the west coast of present-day Scotland. Legend has it that it pre-dates the Norse, Roman, and even the Celtic people.”

“That would place it thousands of years ago, wouldn’t it?”

She nodded. “Possibly as far back as the end of the last ice age.” Her voice was low, almost conspiratorial.

He whistled softly. “That would make it about ten thousand years ago.”