Barefoot in Pearls (Barefoot Bay Brides Book 3)

  “We’re early for our meeting with Dr. Marksman,” Ari said. “Want to take a tour?”

  He eyed the house and students, then shrugged as he came around the truck to join her. “Sure.” He slipped his hand into hers. “If you do.”

  Still holding hands, they bought tickets and joined a small group of retirees, listening to a museum docent recite the history that Ari had read about the night before. The house had changed hands, been through hurricanes, undergone multiple restorations, but in the past fifteen years, the focus shifted from the history of the families who lived here to the archaeological treasures below ground.

  As the small group rounded the outside of the building and walked down a set of stone steps to the underground exhibit that had been built into the mound, Ari experienced a powerful wave of déjà vu.

  She hadn’t been here before, but she’d been to so many similar places with her grandmother, who was often moved to tears before they’d even entered the sacred sites.

  “You okay?” Luke whispered as they reached the bottom.

  “Yes, why?” Could he tell how this affected her?

  “You just shivered, and it’s about a hundred and fifty degrees in the shade.”

  She smiled, leaning into him for the sheer pleasure of feeling his muscles. “You know, for a hardheaded realist who doesn’t believe in anything he can’t see or touch, you’re pretty intuitive.”

  He gave her hand a squeeze. “Only when someone has my full attention.”

  The tour guide cleared her throat and started on the next segment of her speech, but Ari and Luke held each other’s gaze for a long beat. When the doors opened to the exhibit, he slipped his arm around her and kept her tucked into his side as they walked by murals depicting the tribe’s simple, fish-centric life.

  Ari tried to think about the Calusa, how they were like and, in some ways, unlike the Miwok blended in her blood. But her body betrayed her and she forgot about everything but the strength and size and heat of Luke, the woodsy, masculine smell, the timbre of his voice when he whispered a comment or laughed.

  He might want to “wait” for them to be physical, he might think he was the wrong choice as The One, and he might truly be planning to desecrate land she’d fight to save…but all of that disappeared every time she looked at him and melted a little.

  For someone who claimed to be intuitive, she sure was having a hard time figuring out who this man was and what he meant to her.

  “…as you can see from the timeline.” The tour guide’s words drifted in and out of Ari’s ears, much of the information lost to far more personal thoughts. She shook those off and stood before a timeline along the wall, trying to follow the history that stretched back thousands and thousands of years.

  “The great Calusa disappeared in the late 1700s, after Spanish settlers forced them to spread and, sadly, die off,” the tour guide said, “but not until this glorious tribe left their mark on the land.”

  “A mark that needs to be honored,” she whispered to Luke.

  He gave her a look she couldn’t quite read and guided her deeper into the exhibit until they reached the archaeological section, which showed the layers of shell, fish bones, earth, and pottery shards that formed the foundations for temples and homes, and, of course, burial sites. In the paintings, she saw some of the very tools she had packed in the crate in Luke’s truck, making her certain that she had found something valuable.

  While they were given time to look at things alone, Ari took a moment to admire a mural that showed a Calusa family fishing and cooking while children played and another depicting a man painting a mask probably like the one Lacey’s grandfather had found. Of course these people could have taken a boat down the coast to Mimosa Key and created a settlement there.

  Luke stayed close, silent and serious, as they studied the artwork. “A lot of history here,” he said.

  She looked up at him. “If my grandmother were here, she’d be crying.”

  “Why?”

  “She was a big mushball who cried over everything, especially when she discovered something about a new tribe. I don’t ever remember her talking about the Calusa. They weren’t famous like Cherokee and Sioux, but I can feel how much they mattered.” She rubbed her bare arms. “Powerful,” she added softly.

  He angled his head, enough uncertainty in his eyes to break her heart. “Arielle, this building was constructed in the year 2000 to replicate something that has been gone for centuries. How can you feel anything?”

  “I understand your skepticism, Luke, but the aura is here.” She didn’t want to argue the point, and it was nearing the time for her meeting, so she gave him a soft push toward the door. “Let’s get the crate and take it to Dr. Marksman’s office.”

  They slipped away from the group and headed back to the truck. Luke also opened the samples from GeoTech, carefully transferred a small amount of the shells into a spare plastic bag that Ari had brought, and carried it all with great gentleness and care to the small office complex.

  Doubtful one minute, respectful the next. No wonder she was confused about this man.

  * * *

  The Wayampi.

  Memories swamped Luke as he strode toward the building where the archaeologist worked, vaguely aware that Ari was a few steps behind him. He was surprised by how the murals and museum pieces had affected him, yanking him back to the sights and sounds of Camopi, a village just outside a malaria-infested jungle along the northeast corner of South America.

  The Wayampi believed the land, and the gold, belonged to them.

  The country of France felt differently, of course, and that’s why they sent platoons of Legionnaires to make sure the Wayampi knew it. But they were people—with feelings and customs, and a deep-seated spirituality not unlike what stirred Arielle’s soul. They were families, just like the one in that mural. They were children who should run and play. But there was one who never would again.

  And that’s why he needed to work—here or across the Atlantic. He had to have a constant stream of income. Had to. He swallowed hard, sweat stinging his neck.

  “You can wait here,” Arielle said, yanking him from his thoughts as they reached a wraparound wooden porch. “I’ll just…” She frowned at him. “Are you okay?”

  Shit, was he that transparent or could she really read minds? “I’m fine,” he lied.

  “You don’t look fine. You look upset.”

  Taking a deep breath, he set the crate on the ground, using as much care as possible. “It’s hot as hell out here, Ari.”

  “No, it’s not,” she said. “You’re upset about something. It’s coming off you like bad cologne.”

  He couldn’t help smiling. “Bad cologne? Is that how you read people’s thoughts?”

  “I’m not reading your thoughts, Luke. I’m watching your expression.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll stay here with the crate. You go in and find your doctor. Then come and tell me where he wants me to take this stuff.”

  She disappeared inside, and he dropped onto the top step, looking out over the grounds and hills, all the way to the gulf. He closed his eyes for a moment, all the images and stories from the tour they’d just taken playing with his imagination, making him wonder what life was like here fifteen hundred years ago.

  God, he was as bad as Arielle now.

  He leaned back against the railing post, one hand protectively on the crate, the shade of the overhang welcome. His mind drifted far from Florida, across the world to another swampy, hot place, the smell of the jungle, the distant splash of a pirogue making its way down the river, the realization that he’d been set up, the certainty that the woman he loved was a cold-blooded murderer.

  Everyone’s on the take, Ricard! It’s gold! Gold! He could still hear her screaming in French, using his fake name. He was transported to that moment when he realized she didn’t even know his name, so how could she love him? That moment when it hit him that Cerisse didn’t love him at all…she loved go
ld more. That moment when he had to make a split decision about who to kill.

  Not whether he should kill, but who would die? What right did he have to make that decision in the span of a single heartbeat?

  He could hear that young boy’s voice, a mix of French and unintelligible ancient Wayampi words. He had to do something. He had to—

  “Luke? Luke?”

  He shook off her touch, jerking to sit straight.

  “Luke, are you all right?” Arielle leaned closer, concern in her eyes but fire in her touch. Always, always warmth from her. “Are you crying?” She whispered the last word, with shock.

  He swiped at his cheeks. “Hell no. Sweating my balls off.”

  She fought a smile. “Dr. Marksman wants to see the samples,” she said, her hand still on his arm. “He’s right here.”

  Luke rose immediately—too fast, actually—but managed to shake off the momentary blackness around his vision. He peered at an older man with a deeply lined face and rimless glasses over kind blue eyes.

  “David Marksman,” the man said, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Luke went through the motions of the introduction, still a little stunned at how the memories had crept up and attacked him. Because he’d been thinking about Cerisse last night, remembering why he couldn’t give his heart to this awesome woman. Because he’d done that once, and his bullet had gone right through her heart.

  “Why don’t I bring this inside?” Luke suggested.

  But the older man had already crouched down and looked at Ari for permission to open the crate. She nodded and got next to him, while Luke accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to get air conditioning any time soon.

  “This one on top”—Arielle reached in and lifted the first item, slowly unwrapping the tissue—“I think it’s a gorge.”

  She revealed a narrow shell less than two inches long, worn to a point on either end. Luke had probably stepped on a hundred things that looked like that on beaches around the world. What made her see—

  The older man’s eyes lit up. “I believe you’re right!”

  Whatever it was, the elderly archaeologist saw the same thing. He lifted the shell with care, placing it in his palm as if he’d been given the Hope Diamond. “They’d tie a string around the center and drop it in the water. The points would get trapped in the fish mouth.” He chucked a little. “Turkey bone, I’d say, but we’d need to do more research. What else do you have?” he asked, his voice rising with excitement.

  “Wait until you see this.” Arielle chose the next wrapped item, a look of expectation dancing in her eyes as she revealed it. “A hammer stone?”

  He took the round rock, rubbing his thumb over an indentation. “Or a mortar. Did you find something that fit inside that could have been a pestle?”

  “I did, covered in coral shells.” She lifted a few more packages and produced another with the flair of a magician. “Look at this one.”

  Dr. Marksman’s eyes widened, and he actually gasped. He definitely saw something a layman would miss. The archaeologist’s hands trembled as he reached for the clump of brown stones that looked like they’d been glued together in the shape of a small ice cream cone. “Where did you get this?”

  “I told you, in the house that—”

  “This, too?” He looked at her with something close to rapture in his eyes, a touch of a mad-scientist thing going on. “They were all in the crate together? Are there more like this?”

  “None exactly like that,” she said. “But plenty of others.”

  He nodded, spotted hands lovingly caressing the coral-encrusted piece. “This is…amazing.”

  “I know, right?” Ari beamed at the man, then up at Luke. “I told you!”

  Luke smiled back, her enthusiasm infectious.

  Dr. Marksman finally stood, wiping his hands together excitedly. “We’ll do carbon dating on these and some microscopic examinations. These could be thousands of years old, or as recent as a few hundred. We can probably narrow some down to within a century, I think.” He put a fatherly hand on Arielle’s shoulder. “Miss Chandler, this is truly an extraordinary find. Please tell me I can set up an archaeological team to investigate further.”

  Whoa. Whoa. “You’re turning the property into an archaeological dig?” Luke asked.

  “If that’s where these samples came from, how can you do anything else?” the man asked.

  “Because someone owns the property and wants to live there,” Luke said, knowing already that this was probably a lost cause. Shit.

  He gave a look to Arielle, seeking support. They’d agreed he’d save the house and have the other company look at the samples, but they’d never talked about an archaeological dig.

  “You are aware of the laws surrounding this,” Dr. Marksman said, obviously unaware of any of those arrangements. “Under the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act, private-property owners are not forced to turn over land for archaeological inspection unless actual remains are found in the ground or the artifacts are considered sacred.”

  “A mortar and pestle are sacred?” Luke asked. “A fishhook?”

  He shook his head. “No, they would not qualify. The decision to turn over the land and, point of fact, the artifacts, is up to the owner. Is that you?”

  “No,” Luke said. “I’m the builder.”

  For a moment, none of them spoke, but the gazes of the other two were firm on him, as if to say, Well, you know the right thing to do.

  His life and situation didn’t matter, not as much as a little boy who now had only one leg because of a decision Luke had made on one dark, dark night.

  Blowing out a soft breath, Luke looked down at the bag from the core sampling. Wordlessly, he picked it up. “Why don’t you take some of this, too, and run your tests on it? We need to know if these are just broken shells or something…sacred.”

  Arielle looked up at him like he’d hung the moon and painted her name across it. “Oh, Luke.”

  He gave a quick it’s nothing wave. He didn’t deserve her admiration or her affection or her hero worship. He was no hero. Quite the opposite, in fact.

  Chapter Sixteen

  They didn’t exactly avoid each other for the next several days, but Ari and Luke managed not to tempt fate by spending any time alone. Their meetings were still charged with an undercurrent that Ari was only starting to get used to, but with friends and family around, they managed to keep their hands off each other and their conversations light.

  Ari tried to throw herself into work, even going in to catch up on e-mails and correspondence on a Sunday morning, like she was now.

  But no matter how busy she kept herself and how casual she kept the conversations when she saw Luke, her feelings only intensified. Along with her questions. Was this real or imagined? Was he The One or just a hot guy who stole her attention? Would she go through with trying to stop the work at the property and ruin his chances of building a career here? And if he left, would she lose Gussie’s friendship, too?

  Ari pondered the questions over and over, but the only answer she got was the loud rumble of hunger in her stomach reminding her she’d missed lunch.

  “I could fix that.”

  She spun in her desk chair toward the sound of Luke’s voice, startled and stupidly happy to see him.

  “How about a picnic up on Barefoot Mountain to silence your starvation?”

  Speaking of starvation. One look at him, at his slightly sly smile and slightly crooked nose and not so slightly sexy body, and she was…hungry. And not for a picnic.

  “I’d love that.” She was up and snagging her handbag in a flash. “What’s the occasion?”

  “I’ve spent the last few days on the mainland, in offices, meeting with subs, and haven’t been to the property in quite a while.” His smile deepened his dimples. “And I haven’t been alone with you for two, no, make that three days.”

  He was counting. “Is that a long time?”

  He slipp
ed an arm around her and led her out the door. “Interminable. Plus, I lost a bet with myself.”

  Laughing, she let him lead her out. “Who does that? Bets himself and loses?”

  “Apparently, me.”

  “What did you bet?”

  He grinned as he opened the door for her and leaned close to her ear to whisper, “That I could make it four days without kissing you.”

  She almost melted. “I meant, what was on the table?”

  “Oh, you’ll see. I brought the winnings for you. But I don’t have lunch, which is a key part of any picnic. We can stop at the convenience store and get sandwiches, okay?”

  She’d probably have agreed to eat leaves at that point. “Sandwiches and a nice grill from Charity, the owner of the Super Min.”

  He gave her a questioning look. “There’s a grill in there?”

  “Not the kind you’re thinking of.”

  They chatted about nothing on the way, but every word felt weighty. Everything he said seemed to matter, regardless of the topic, and when she replied, he appeared to hang on whatever she said. Why was everything so intensified with him? Was it always like this, or just because they hadn’t been alone in several days?

  Who cared? Right now, she just wanted to bury her unanswered questions and enjoy Luke.

  At the convenience store, he parked and got out, coming around as always to open her door, a spark in his eyes as he let his gaze travel over the simple T-shirt and jeans she’d chosen for a no-meeting day at work.

  “Is it ridiculous to say I’ve missed you?” he asked.

  Not in the least. She took his hand and climbed down to the cracked asphalt parking lot, stealing a whiff of his familiar, masculine scent. “I missed you, too.”

  Satisfied with that, he walked her inside, the welcome bell dinged, and they got the usual stare-down from Charity Grambling, as Ari had expected. The older woman’s steel-gray gaze shifted to Luke and stayed there, curious and questioning, also as expected.