I frown. It’s too early for deliveries, and Lois would just call if there was a problem with Ella.
Setting my laptop aside, I walk to the door and open it.
A man stands on my porch, and he looks so completely out of place that for a moment I just stare.
He’s tall, blond, wearing a charcoal suit. His blue eyes are striking even behind the wariness in them. He’s handsome in that polished, too-perfect way that makes me immediately suspicious. His leather shoes are already dusted with the sand that gets everywhere in this town, and my first thought is to wonder if he is regretting wearing them.
And my second thought is how handsome he is.
“Dr. Halford?” he asks.
“Yes?”
“Calvin Aarons.” He extends a hand. “I apologize for showing up unannounced, but you haven’t been returning my calls, and I’m on a tight timeline.”
I don’t take his hand. Instead, I cross my arms, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ve been returning your emails, Mr. Aarons. With the same answer each time.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here.” He doesn’t seem fazed by my coolness. “Could I have five minutes of your time? I’ve come a long way.”
I push my tongue against the front of my teeth. Men like this think they can buy anything, including other people’s time and attention.
“I’m busy,” I say.
“Five minutes. Please.”
There’s something in his voice… Desperation? No, more like he’s trying to keep frombecomingdesperate. And despite my conviction that I don’t want this job, that I can’t take this job, I find myself opening the door and stepping back.
“Fine. Five minutes.”
He follows me inside, and I see him taking in the cottage. The worn furniture, the bookshelves crammed with archaeology texts and beach reads, the laundry that’s been waiting four days to be folded, the toys scattered across the floor that I didn’t have time to pick up. A mug with Ella’s handprint painted on it sits on the coffee table next to my laptop.
If he’s judging, he doesn’t show it.
“Coffee?” I offer, more out of ingrained politeness than actual hospitality.
“Thank you.”
I pour him a cup and refill my own, then settle back on the couch. He takes the armchair across from me, and it’s almost comical how formal he looks in my rumpled little living room.
“So,” I say, “you came all this way to hear me say no in person?”
“I came all this way to change your mind.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I’ve spent three weeks trying to find the right person for this excavation. There are very few people in the world perfect for this job, but none of them are available. Except for you. Plus, your name kept coming up. Everyone agrees you’re the best person for this job.”
“Who saysI’mavailable?” I ask, distinctly remembering telling him in the emails that I am not.
“You’re currently unemployed?—”
“Self-employed,” I correct. “And it’s very flattering that you came all the way here to try and convince me, but my answer is still no.”
“Can I ask why?”
I gesture around the cottage. “Because I have a life here. A good life. I’m not interested in leaving it for some project in the desert.”
“Not even for Jumayah?”
The word stops me cold. “Jumayah?” I repeat slowly.Why don’t I remember that from the emails? Did he mention before that it’s Jumayah?
“The site is just outside the ancient city of Jumayah. There’s evidence of a temple complex, possibly dating back to the second millennium BCE. The preliminary surveys suggest?—”
