скачать книгу бесплатно
‘I know.’
‘Humility too.’
Sexy velvet voices could be dry as dust and still make his blood stir. Who knew? ‘Let’s not get carried away.’ A warning, and not just for her. He started piling books and references back in the box. The good Charlotte retrieved his clothes and handed them to him at the end.
‘I’ve packing tape in the library,’ she said, and Grey glanced down the hallway towards the innards of the house. The library. Of course. It was the kind of house that ran to libraries, a billiards room, conservatory, tennis court, pool and gym. Family estate, he figured. Unless she’d made her fortune before embarking on a career in archaeology. Possibly as a novelist. Thaddeus. Grey snorted. Possibly not.
‘Don’t worry about the tape. You’d do better worrying about how your work colleagues are going to react when you tell them there’s no fiancé, dead or otherwise. You do realise that your personal and probably your professional integrity is going to be called into question? Assuming you had some in the first place?’
Charlotte’s eyes flashed. Temper temper, and it looked very fine on her but she held her tongue. Not a big woman, by any means, but fragile wasn’t a word he would have used to describe her either. Slender, she was that, but she had some generous curves and an abundance of wavy black hair currently tied back in a messy ponytail. She also possessed a heart-shaped face and a creamy complexion that would put Snow White to shame. A wanton’s mouth. One that turned a man’s mind towards feasting on it. Big doe eyes, with dark curling lashes. ‘Are you really an archaeologist?’
‘Yes,’ she said grimly. ‘And before you start making comparisons between me and a certain tomb-raiding gun-toting female gaming character, I’ve heard them all before.’
And been neither flattered nor amused, he deduced. He hefted the box. She held the door open for him.
‘Do you need any travel directions to wherever it is you’re heading?’ she asked. ‘Provisions, so you can be on your way? Can of drink? Box of crackers?’
‘How did he die?’ asked Grey. ‘This fiancé.’
‘Heroically. Very honourably.’ No need for details, decided Charlotte. Details were bad. ‘It was the least I could do.’
‘Has anyone ever told you that your grip on reality’s a little shaky?’ he murmured.
‘Hello,’ she said dryly. ‘Archaeologist. It’s part of the job description.’
A smile from him then. One that chased the sternness right out of him and left devilry in its place. Charlotte stared, drinking in the details. Greyson Tyler was a dangerously handsome man when he wanted to be. Handsomer than Gil.
‘Hnh,’ she said.
Greyson’s smile widened. ‘You’ll let me know if anything else of mine happens your way?’ he said.
‘Of course.’
His gaze had shifted to her lips and his smile was fading. Something else started moving into place. Something fierce and heated.
‘Will you be staying in Sydney long?’ she all but stuttered. ‘Is there a contact number or address I can reach you at?’
‘I’ll be here for a while,’ he said. ‘And yes, there is.’ Not that he seemed inclined to part with that information. ‘This predicament you’ve got yourself in …’
‘Which one?’
‘The fake dead fiancé. The lie that just keeps getting bigger.’
‘Oh. Right. That predicament.’
‘There is a way around it without necessarily having to come clean about the lie,’ he offered. ‘You’d be indebted to me, of course, but I figure that’s a small price to pay, and I do happen to know of a way in which you could repay me. All strictly above board and harmless, more or less.’
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘Resurrection.’
‘Pardon?’
‘You’re not the only one with an ex-fiancé,’ he murmured. ‘Although mine happens to be real and she’s not yet dead. She’s also been welcome at my parents’ place since childhood. She’s part of the family, the daughter my mother never had.’
‘No wonder you went paddling up the Sepik afterwards,’ said Charlotte. ‘Who ended the engagement?’
‘I did.’
‘Were you heartbroken?’
‘Do I look heartbroken?’
‘I really don’t know you well enough to tell. Was she heartbroken?’
‘The engagement was a mistake,’ said Greyson Tyler curtly. ‘Sarah wants a conventional husband. One who’s home more often than not. One who’s ready to settle down and start a family.’
‘How unusual,’ murmured Charlotte and wore Greyson’s steel-eyed glare with equanimity.
‘That’s not me. I don’t know if it’ll ever be me, only Sarah—’ He gave a tiny shake of his head. ‘Sarah wants to pick up where we left off. With my family’s blessing.’
‘You’re a big boy. Just say no.’
‘I have. No one seems to believe me. No one wants to believe me. I’m running out of gentle ways of saying no, but maybe you can help me. Maybe I can help you.’
‘How?’
‘I need a woman at my side for a family barbecue next weekend. Preferably one who’s ecstatic about me, my way of life, and what I can give her—which is, needless to say, not a lot. A free spirit who can make Sarah and my family believe that everyone should just move on. In return, I’ll play your back-from-the-dead fiancé whom you can produce, bicker with, and shortly thereafter cut loose in good conscience. No need to admit your original lie at all. Do we have an agreement?’
Charlotte hesitated, a twinge of something that felt a whole lot like wariness riding her hard. An ex-fiancée who wanted Greyson still, maybe even loved him still. A barbecue at which he—they—would dash her hopes as gently as they could. Except that there would be nothing gentle about his ex-fiancée coming face to face with proof positive that Greyson was indeed serious about Sarah needing to move on. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have another shot at discussing this between yourselves?’ she said. ‘Somewhere nice and private? Bring out the steely resolve. Maybe you could say no louder this time.’
‘I have,’ he said darkly. ‘It’s not working. Bringing you along might.’
And still Charlotte hesitated.
‘Never mind.’ His face was closed, his voice clipped. ‘Bad idea.’
‘Wait,’ she said tentatively. ‘How long is it since you broke up?’
‘Two years.’
‘And you really think there’s no other way to dissuade her?’
‘Look, I don’t want to hurt Sarah. I don’t want her to feel that she’s no longer welcome at my parents’ place. I just want her to see …’
See being the operative word.
‘Couldn’t you just tell her that you’ve found someone else?’
Silence from Greyson Tyler. Silence and a bleak black glare. ‘You already have,’ said Charlotte slowly. ‘And now you have to produce her.’
Bingo.
‘You’re as reality challenged as I am,’ she said next.
‘Hardly.’
‘Oh, give it time.’
Another glare from the behemoth. The one who was offering to help with her fiancé problem if she would only help him with his. ‘I don’t do animosity,’ she said firmly. ‘If we do this, we do it with as little hurt as possible.’
‘Agreed.’
‘You arrive at my office tomorrow and things seem a little strained between us,’ she continued. ‘I can take it from there. I attend your family barbecue next weekend, thus providing Sarah with visible evidence that you’ve moved on, and you can take it from there.’
‘Agreed,’ he said. ‘So do we have a deal?’
More lies aside, Greyson Tyler’s suggestion really did seem to solve a multitude of problems. ‘We do.’
CHAPTER THREE
THERE was something about waiting for the eminent Dr Greyson Tyler to arrive at her workplace that set Charlotte’s jaw to clenching. Correction: the waiting part wasn’t the problem. He set her on edge regardless.
She’d been expecting a scientist—a no-nonsense man of formidable intellect and optional physical prowess. Instead she’d encountered Action Man in the flesh, a man so physically fine, quick thinking, and composed in the face of complications that a woman couldn’t help but wonder what life would be like with a man like that in it. Not steady and predictable, she wagered. Anything but.
Not boring or empty either.
Greyson Tyler was a living, breathing reminder of a life she’d left behind in her quest for inner contentment, security, and peace of mind. Hardly his fault that for all her efforts to settle down, the jury was still out on whether staying in Sydney was making her happy. Where the hell was he?
Charlotte had plenty of work to be going on with. Satellite images to look at for a dig site that showed promise. Third-year essays to correct, a lecture to prepare, and no patience this morning for any of it. Greyson was twenty minutes late already. He’d been late yesterday too. The man had a punctuality problem.
That or he’d decided that he didn’t need a fake fiancée after all.
Rapping on her open door signalled a visitor and Charlotte turned to see who it was.
Millie.
‘Morning tea time,’ said Millie.
Indeed it was, and the perfect time for introducing a formerly dead pretend fiancé to her colleagues, but Greyson Tyler did not put in an appearance during the break.
Gil would have never been so tawdry.
But when she and Millie walked back along the corridor after the break, Charlotte discovered she had a visitor. A visitor who felt at home enough to plant his rear in her chair and his boots on her filing cabinet while he browsed through one of her archaeology journals.
Millie stopped. Stared.
Greyson Tyler glanced up, nodded to Millie, and favoured Charlotte with a deliciously slow smile; an invitation to come play with him if she dared.
‘You made it,’ she said icily.
‘Of course.’ Greyson’s smile widened. Lucifer would have been proud. ‘I always do. Eventually.’
Millie was still staring. Charlotte figured introductions were in order. ‘Millie, this is Tyler. He arrived home yesterday, rather unexpectedly. Tyler, meet Millie. Historian, map muse, and friend.’
‘But …’ Millie slid Charlotte a lightning glance before returning her attention to the figure in the chair. ‘You’re not dead.’
‘No,’ said Grey. ‘Well spotted.’
‘Apparently there was some confusion on that score,’ murmured Charlotte.
‘But … that’s wonderful!’ said Millie on firmer footing.
‘I’m glad someone thinks so,’ said Grey.
Greyson Tyler played the part of antagonist exceptionally well, decided Charlotte. The man was a natural.
With fluid grace, Greyson found his feet and held out his hand towards Millie, his smile a study in warmth and friendliness. ‘Charlotte’s had a rough few months, what with one thing and another,’ he offered in that chocolate coated baritone. ‘Thanks for helping her out.’
Millie shook his hand as if awestruck. Millie blushed, caught Charlotte’s eye and blushed some more.
‘How long are you planning on staying angry with him?’ Millie asked her.
‘A while,’ said Charlotte.
‘Good luck with that.’ Millie slid another helpless smile in Greyson’s direction. ‘I’m so glad you weren’t eaten by marauding tribesmen,’ she told him. ‘Did you manage to prevent the village daughters from being kidnapped as well?’
Grey blinked. A muscle ticced beside his mouth. ‘Yes,’ he said finally.
‘Hard to stay angry with a hero,’ said Millie.
‘Oh, it’s not that hard,’ said Charlotte.
Stifling a grin, Millie left.
Charlotte shut the door in Millie’s wake, took a steadying breath, and turned to face the man currently dominating her office space. His charming friendly smile had disappeared. The formidable Greyson Tyler had returned and he seemed out of sorts.
‘I think that went well, don’t you?’ she said lightly.
‘You told them I’d been eaten? By cannibals?’
‘Not you,’ she said soothingly. ‘Gil. And of course nothing was ever certain.’
‘And they believed you?’
‘It happens,’ said Charlotte.
‘Sixty years ago. Maybe.’
