Her Greek Doctor's Proposal. Robin Gianna
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it’s unusual for two healthy people to come down with pneumonia at nearly the same time. Which makes looking for an external cause something we need to think about. Has Melanie been in the caves recently?”
Laurel thought hard about what they’d excavated and where they’d dug, but couldn’t come up with anything that might have made them sick. “I’m almost certain she hasn’t been in the caves at all. At least, not since the first days of the dig two months ago. At team meetings, Tom shares the cave dig results weekly, and Melanie shares our results. It’s more efficient that way.”
“All right. We’ll see how they’re both doing tomorrow and decide then if it makes sense to look harder for some connection.” He looked around at the extensive excavation. “I wasn’t living here when Peter Manago tried building a house in this spot and they found the ruins. When was that—five or six years ago?”
Had it been that long? Five years since her family’s shocking loss that had turned her world upside down? A loss that seemed like yesterday, and yet, in other ways, felt like forever ago.
“I think that’s about right.” She swallowed hard at the intense ache that stung her throat. “Have you been up here to check it out?”
“No, but I’ve been wanting to. Is it filled with treasures offered to Apollo and the oracle?” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Everyone who grew up around here used to dig giant holes—or at least giant to us—that we were sure would expose a sphinx, or the Charioteer’s horses, or something else that would make us rich.”
“And were you one of them?”
“Oh, yes. Born and raised in Kastorini. Many a goat has likely fallen into one of my ‘digs.’ But after finding only rocks and more rocks and the occasional very exciting animal bone, I decided becoming a doctor might be a better way to make money.”
She had to laugh. Money was definitely not the reason anyone dug in the dirt for a living. “No doubt about that.”
“You must be finding something, though, or they wouldn’t have been working at it for so long. What’s here?” He looked around at the carefully plotted-out sections of earth. “Tell me about these squares you have marked off.”
“Much of the time when you unearth a site that’s several thousand years old, it’s a bit like a layer cake. The oldest part of a settlement is at the bottom, with artifacts that reflect how the people lived then. Vessels used for cooking, style of art that’s found, even the way a wall might be built, all can change a lot from the bottom of the cake to the top. But this site?” She loved sharing the excitement of this place with people who were interested. “The layers aren’t there. There’s no cemetery. No human remains, despite the number of buildings that housed probably a hundred people at a time. Which convinces us that it was temporary housing for pilgrims visiting Delphi.”
“Interesting. How long, do you think?”
He stopped scanning the site to look at her with rapt attention in his beautiful eyes, and a dazzling smile that momentarily short-circuited her brain. What had she been talking about, exactly? “How long what?”
“How many centuries did the pilgrims come to stay here?”
“Oh.” The man probably thought she was dense. “About five hundred years, we think. Amazing that people came here to consult the oracle and worship Apollo all that time.”
“Did the small earthquake we had a couple weeks ago damage anything?”
That earthquake had scared everyone, but especially Laurel. When the earth had rumbled around them, her heart had about stopped as the vision of how she’d been told her parents had died had surged to the forefront of her mind. The quake had lasted only a few minutes, but her insides had shaken for hours.
“Some rocks and earth loosened and fell into the pits, but it wasn’t too bad, thankfully.”
“That’s good.” He seemed to be studying her and she wondered what her expression was, quickly giving him a smile to banish whatever might be there. “Do you have any photos of the things you’ve found?”
“We do. A number of tools and potsherds have been reassembled and I have pictures in a binder in that box. This section here,” she said, showing him a large, cordoned-off rectangle, “is where several inscribed stones were found that are similar to the ones at the Temple of Apollo.” And one of those stones was etched with the cryptic words that had convinced her mom and dad they’d find the priceless artifact Laurel was still looking for. That part had to be kept secret from most people, but she could show him the rest.
She pulled the reference binder from the supply box and flipped through it to show him a few of the best photos. They stood close together, the hair on his muscular forearm tickling her skin, his thick shoulder nudging hers, his head angled close enough to nearly skim his cheek against her temple. He smelled so wonderful, like aftershave and hunky man, that she found herself breathing him in. So enjoying his interested attention, she suddenly realized she’d gone on way too long.
“Sorry.” She closed the book, feeling her face flush yet again, and not just from the blasting heat on the mountain. “I get a little overexcited sometimes.”
“No. I’m fascinated.” There was something about his low tone and the way he was looking at her with a kind of glint in the dark depths of his eyes that had her wondering if he meant something other than the dig. That thought, along with how close he still stood to her, kicked her heart into a faster rhythm and made her short of breath, which she knew was absurd. But surely there wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t swoon at least a little over Andros Drakoulias.
“My sisters tell me that when I talk about my work, I need to remember to look for eyes glazing over when I go on and on. Sorry.”
“Had you been looking, you’d have seen my eyes were most attentive. And you should never apologize for talking about something you love.”
The deep rumble of his voice, the warmth in it, seemed to slip inside her, and for a long moment they just looked at one another, standing only inches apart, before Laurel managed to snap out of whatever trance he’d sent her into. She sucked in a mind-clearing breath and turned to shove the binder back into its box.
“You’ve hurt yourself.” His strong arm came around her side, brushing against her as he reached for her hand. His head dipped close to hers again as he turned her palm upward, his fingers gently tugging loose the tape and bandage to expose the darn gash that had started bleeding again.
“It’s nothing.” She swiped at the trickle of blood, trying to tug her hand from his, but he held it tight. “I cut it on a potsherd. I’ll bandage it up better when I’m done for the day.”
“When was your last tetanus shot?”
“Just before I came here, Dr. Drakoulias. Cuts and scrapes are one of the hazards of this job.”
“I know. Last summer, I had to treat one of the workers on this dig for sepsis.” His gaze pinned hers, his former warmth replaced by a stern, no-nonsense look. “When you come to see the Wagners, I’ll clean and bandage it for you.”
She opened her mouth to assure him she could take care of it just fine, but the words died on her tongue. The wide palm that held hers was firm yet gentle, and something about his authoritative expression told her any protest would fall on deaf ears. Part of her didn’t want to protest, anyway. She realized, ridiculously, that it felt… nice to have someone want to take care of it for her. Probably because, for a long time, she’d been the nurse, cook, decision maker and overall helper for her sisters, without a soul to assist with all their challenges. Or, except for Tom and Mel, her own.
She reminded herself it wasn’t as if there were anything personal about it, the man was just doing his job. “Not necessary. I have everything I need to clean and bandage it at my hotel.”
“Necessary.” His eyes still on hers, he slowly released her hand. “I’ll see you at the clinic at, say, six o’clock?”