Page 24

He cocked his head. “I’m sorry, you need me?”

“Not you. I need help.”

“If you just needed help, you could ask anyone. But here you are, over an hour away from your dig site asking me to get you out of some mess you’ve created. Am I right? Just like the old days.”

It was my turn to cross my arms. “What do you mean just like the old days? What mess did you ever help me out of? If I remember correctly, I was the one who always covered for you and Josh when you decided to sneak out after curfew.”

“What mess? There are so many to choose from.” He leaned against Francine and tapped his finger against the cleft in his chin. “How about the time you took a Greyhound bus to Cheyenne and got stuck there? Who came to get you, and in this very car?” He patted Francine.

“Or how about the time you wandered off on that camping trip? Who had to calm your parents down and find you face-to-face with a bear? Or the time you accidentally dug up Mrs. Torres’s dead cat?” Ah geez, I’d forgotten about that. “Shall I go on?”

“All right, you win. I may from time to time get myself into trouble, but it’s usually something I can handle.”

“Hmm, and I seem to remember your parents inventing a song about you.” He started humming that song from The Sound of Music—“How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?” Except my dad had substituted my name for Maria’s one time and it had stuck.

“You remember that?” I asked.

“I remember everything, Diana,” he said with a touch of sadness in his voice. Our eyes locked and I wondered if he remembered the last time we rode in this car together. I couldn’t think about that now though. He was right: I had created a mess and needed his help.

“So, does this most recent mess you’ve created involve a fiancé named Leroy?” The corner of his mouth twisted up into a smile. I could feel the blush from my neck creeping into my face.

“I didn’t name him Leroy. Professor Harris is just bad with names. And look, I only used your name because I had just run into a friend of yours.” He didn’t need to know that despite all the years that separated us, I continued to think of him daily.

“What friend?” His eyebrows drew together.

“Your chef friend. The one who’s opening a hotel in Greece.”

An expression of complete bewilderment crossed his face. “Callie? How did you meet her?”

“On a ferry. We were reading the same book.” I didn’t want to get into the details of that meeting. He’d find out eventually about how I fell for a fake antiquity, but this was humiliating enough—begging him for help because I’d used him as inspiration for my fake fiancé. “She didn’t tell you?”

I was sure she was going to contact him right away. It had been such a strange coincidence, running into someone who knew my childhood crush, whom I hadn’t spoken to in years, on a boat in the middle of the Aegean. What were the odds? Callie and I had chatted almost the entire ferry ride and had hit it off immediately. When I mentioned that my latest research project was in Northern Italy, she’d told me one of her best friends was stationed at Aviano. My heart had dropped into my stomach, and when she’d scribbled Levi’s number on a Post-it note, I’d stashed away in my rucksack.

I’d take the Post-it out occasionally and look at it but refused to reach out to him. No, instead I did the healthier thing—let him take up space in my mind and, knowing he was nearby, always being on the lookout for him.

“No, she didn’t.” He sounded hurt, and I briefly wondered if the situation had been reversed—if he had run into Sabrina—would he have called me?

“Well, anyway, I’d just run into her, and when I—stupidly, I know—had to come up with a name for my ‘fiancé’”—I made air quotes, à la Pete—“your name was already in my head.”

“Right . . . but why did you have to invent a ‘fiancé’”—Levi copied my air quotes—“in the first place?”

I hadn’t thought of a convincing excuse for that. I couldn’t tell him that I’d done it because for a minute I’d thought that my childhood hero and now mentor may have given me a job because he wanted to sleep with me. I mean, he didn’t. I had totally overreacted. But if Levi thought there was any chance that Harris had come on to me, he’d probably pound him to a pulp.

“It’s silly really.” I waved it off hoping he’d accept that answer, but he just stared at me harder with those penetrating blue eyes. “Professor Harris’s wife has a social group for couples. I really wanted to come along so I invented a fiancé. Then I kept inventing illnesses for you to explain your absences.”

Levi studied me. I wasn’t sure if he bought the lie. “So, like cancer?”

“No! Nothing serious—a cold, stomach flu, an earache.” I bit hard on my lip when I remembered all the different ailments he’d had this year. “I may have given you a case of tuberculosis that you caught on a mission.”

“TB, Indy?”

“You may also have had scarlet fever.”

“Jesus, was I on a time-traveling mission to Victorian England?”

I ignored that snarky remark and continued, “But you love to dance.”

“Ah, all right, something I can work with. Even if it does make me sound like a Victorian dandy with a frail constitution. Am I correct in assuming you need me to take on this role in the flesh?”