The Adventurer

  "I like to think of it as a quest. All quests need a knight-errant. You're elected."

  "Who are you? The beautiful princess or something?" He slapped the envelope with the map down on the table.

  Sarah grinned. "What you see is what you get. I left my tiara at home. How about it, Mr. Trace? Are you available for hire?"

  "No, I'm not available," he muttered as the kettle began to whistle. "I write about lost treasure. I don't waste my time looking for it."

  "But you won't be wasting your time. I'll pay you."

  "Look, lady, treasure hunting costs money. A lot of money. People have poured millions into projects aimed at locating sunken ships and lost gold mines." He picked up her tea bag and dropped it into a cup. Then he poured boiling water over it. When he was finished he poured water over the instant coffee in his own cup. Every movement was economical and controlled. It was the kind of motion that indicated underlying strength and power.

  "I'm not suggesting we attempt a major expedition to find a sunken treasure ship. I'm only after Emelina Fleetwood's Flowers. And I've got a map. What could be simpler?"

  Gideon shook his head in disgust as he carried the cups over to the table and sat down across from her. "Listen carefully, Ms. Fleetwood, while I spell out a few facts of life. Treasure hunting is almost never successful. At least not today. A hundred, two hundred years ago it was still possible for an amateur to stumble across something like the temple caves of Ellora or a forgotten pharaoh's tomb. Today, the only people who get that kind of thrill are professional archaeologists and even for them, the thrills are few and far between."

  "I'm only trying to find a few pairs of earrings, not a lost civilization."

  "Then that puts you in the ranks of the hobbyists. You'd be better off buying yourself a metal detector and heading for the beach to hunt for lost change."

  "You're really determined to be difficult about this, aren't you?"

  "I'm attempting to give you a realistic picture of what you're contemplating."

  "Where's your spirit of adventure? You must have a genuine interest in treasure hunting or you would never have started a publication like Cache. Don't you feel the lure of the lost treasure? The excitement of the search? The lust for a dazzling fortune in lost gems?"

  Gideon's eyes glittered briefly behind harrowed lids. "I try to focus my lust on more accessible objects."

  Sarah blinked and then smiled. "Are you trying to frighten me, by any chance?"

  He sighed. "I get the feeling that would be difficult."

  "Impossible," she said crisply.

  He watched apprehensively as she yanked the tea bag out of her cup, squeezed it quickly between thumb and forefinger and glanced around for a place to toss it. When she showed signs of hurling it across the room into the sink, Gideon moved.

  "Here, I'll take that." Gideon plucked the tea bag from her fingers and got to his feet. He went over to the sink, opened a cupboard door underneath and carefully dropped the dripping tea bag into a trash bin. Then he came back to the table and sat down again.

  "Everybody's afraid of something, Ms. Fleetwood."

  "True. And I'm no exception to the rule. But I'm not afraid of you."

  "Because you've got a feeling about me?"

  "Right."

  "You know something, Ms. Fleetwood?"

  "Call me Sarah. What?"

  "You're one very bizarre female."

  "Yes, I know," Sarah admitted humbly. "My friends have often told me that."

  "Wise friends. Have they attempted to diagnose your condition?"

  "They say my problem is that I tend to think sideways. As I said, what do they know? Now, about our project."

  "Already it's our project?"

  "I've been thinking of it as our project right from the moment the idea occurred to me."

  "When was that fateful moment?"

  "I believe I was in the shower at the time. I get many of my best ideas in the shower, you know."

  "No, I didn't know." Gideon looked unwillingly fascinated.

  "At any rate, I suddenly knew that it was time to look for the Fleetwood earrings and that I was the one to search for them. I got out of the shower, put on a robe and walked out into the living room. Your latest letter with the research data on salvage operations that I needed for Glitter Quest was on my desk. I glanced at it and immediately knew I wanted you to help me in my search."

  "This is amazing."

  "Isn't it, though? I expect it will be a lot of fun, too. And very educational?"

  "Educational?"

  "Sure. The material you sent me on treasure hunting for Glitter Quest was extremely interesting, but rather academic, if you know what I mean. This way I'll have a chance to learn about the process of a real-life treasure hunt from the ground up, so to speak."

  Gideon sipped his instant coffee. "What if I tell you I'm not free at the moment to take off for two weeks?"

  "Well, I could come back at a later date, I suppose."

  "How much later?"

  "Tomorrow?"

  "Or the next day, maybe? Never mind. It's obvious you're not going to go away for good."

  "I really could postpone this for a while if it was absolutely necessary. After all, those earrings have been lost for a long time. But I sort of thought this was the right moment to start the search. And something tells me you have to be involved in the hunt. I really can't explain it, but I sense it's inevitable. I trust my intuition."

  "You do realize that financing this little expedition is going to be a major project in itself? Two weeks in the mountains including meals, lodging and gas are not going to come cheap. Can you afford it?"

  "I've budgeted for it. I'm a reasonably successful writer, Gideon, and I assure you I can handle the tab for this venture. I'll consider it my annual vacation."

  "You want to spend your annual vacation digging around in the dirt for something that probably doesn't even exist?"

  "You have to learn to think positive, Gideon," she said earnestly. "The earrings exist and we'll find them."

  "Tell me, Sarah, do you usually have to strong-arm some man into accompanying you on your annual vacations?"

  "Now, don't be sarcastic. To tell you the truth, I've never met one who was worth the effort before. And it does appear to be an effort, doesn't it? I didn't realize it would be quite this difficult."

  Gideon fixed her with a strangely baffled look. "I'm worth the effort because I can show you how to read that map or something?"

  "Sarah pursed her lips and scratched behind Ellora's ears. "Not exactly. Maybe. You've certainly had more experience with treasure maps than I've had. But I'm not sure if that's why I need you along. It's hard to explain. I just know I want you with me. Somehow the Flowers and the map and you are all linked together."

  He frowned suspiciously. "You're not under the impression you're psychic or something, are you?"

  "Of course not."

  "Are you sure?"

  "You're teasing me, aren't you? Don't worry, I'm not weird or anything. Just sort of intuitive. The minute we started corresponding, for example, I knew I was going to like you very much. I certainly hope you feel the same way about me."

  "I'll be blunt, Sarah Fleetwood. I can't even begin to figure out how I feel about you."

  "Well, you don't need to make up your mind this instant."

  "I don't? What a relief."

  She smiled sunnily and dove into her oversized bag for a piece of paper and a pen. "Here's the name of the place where I'm staying tonight. It's a tiny little motel a couple miles down the road." She jotted down the name. "Know it?"

  He scowled at the slip of paper. "Sure, I know it. We don't have that many motels around here. What about it?"

  "I suggest you pick me up for dinner around six o'clock. The motel clerk said there was a nice little restaurant nearby. You'll probably be more relaxed if we settle the details of our association over dinner."

  "Dinner."

  "You do eat dinner,
don't you?" Sarah gently lifted Ellora from her lap and set her on the floor. The cat purred more loudly than ever.

  "Yeah, I eat dinner. That's not the point. The point is…"

  "Don't worry, I'm buying." Sarah picked up her bag. "Please, Gideon? This is very important to me and I feel certain that once you've had a chance to think about it all, you're going to want to accompany me on my search for the Flowers. Have you got anything else you have to do tonight?"

  "What if I said I had a date?"

  Sarah was thunderstruck. "Good grief, I never even considered that. Have you got a date?"

  Gideon groaned. "No."

  "Wonderful. Then it's all settled. See you at six." Sarah whipped around and headed toward the front door, digging the car keys out of her pocket. "Just give me a chance, Gideon," she called back over her shoulder. "I know I can talk you into this. And you won't lose by it, I promise. I'm prepared to pay you a very decent wage. You can apply it toward the heating bill for this house."

  She waved from the doorway at Gideon, who was still sitting at the kitchen table, and then she turned to lope down the porch steps. Machu Picchu had not moved from his throne. He slitted his eyes as Sarah stepped carefully around him.

  "It's okay, beast. I know what I'm doing. I'll take good care of him." Sarah grinned at the cat and went down the walk to get into her car.

  Inside the house Gideon sat unmoving until the cheerful hum of the compact's small engine had faded into the distance. Then he looked down at Ellora.

  "You know something? She reminds me of you. She moved right in on us the same way you moved in on me and old Machu a year ago. What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

  He got up slowly and carried the cups over to the sink. He had long ago discovered that if he didn't pick up the dishes, they never got picked up. He was willing to bet that Sarah Fleetwood's apartment would be littered with old tea mugs that needed washing.

  "The Flowers. Why in hell did it have to be the Flowers? And why her?" Gideon stalked into the living room and paused for a moment beside the unfinished chess game. He had carved the pieces himself. They weren't great art, but they were functional. He picked up the queen and turned it over and over in his hand, examining it from all angles.

  He was interrupted in his contemplation of the queen by a grumbling roar from the front door. Gideon went to open it. Machu Picchu ambled inside, pausing briefly to slap his tail heavily against Gideon's boot before he heaved himself up onto his favorite indoor position on the back of the sofa.

  "Dinner. I'm supposed to drop everything and pick her up for dinner. Where does she get off giving orders like that? Who the hell does she think she is?"

  The cats blinked lazily and watched as Gideon strode along the hall to his study. There, carefully weighted down by a big chunk of rose quartz, he found the stack of letters he had received from one Sarah Fleetwood. For some reason he couldn't explain why he'd kept them all.

  The earliest dated from four months ago when she had first contacted him for information on modern treasure hunting. The latest dated from last week. He picked it up and scanned it again. It was in the same style as all the rest, breezy, enthusiastic, cheerful and inexplicably captivating.

  Dear Mr. Trace:

  It's midnight but I had to let you know I am nearly finished with Glitter Quest, I want to tell you how much I appreciate your research assistance. It really made a difference. The plot is much more intricate and involved because of some of the details you provided. It's been fascinating working with you. This has been such a fun book to write.

  I must tell you I have truly enjoyed our correspondence these past few months. In fact, I have been inspired, but I'll explain just how at another time.

  By the way, if you're still suffering from that cold you mentioned in your last note, I suggest you try hot tea with a shot of lemon and honey. Works wonders.

  Yours,

  Sarah

  P.S. Am enclosing a cartoon I cut out of the paper this afternoon. I thought you would enjoy it.

  The cartoon featured a pair of cats. It was only a coincidence that the cats, one beefy and one quite small, vaguely resembled Machu Picchu and Ellora, Gideon told himself. After all, he'd never mentioned either feline in his letters to Sarah.

  He glanced at the old clock in the corner. It was still early in the day. Plenty of time to find an excuse for not taking Sarah Fleetwood to dinner.

  But the woman knew too damned much about the Fleetwood Flowers, Gideon reminded himself. And now she had managed to locate him. That made her a distinct threat to the quiet, well-ordered existence he had carved out for himself.

  Gideon had learned long ago that it was good policy to neutralize potential threats before they got to be real problems.

  He'd better take the lady to dinner.

  2

  « ^ »

  IT WASN'T as if he had anything better to do, Gideon told himself as he climbed out of his car in the motel parking lot. It was either this or another evening alone with Ellora, Machu Picchu and a good book. Not that the evenings alone were all that bad. For the most part he found them comfortable.

  But a part of him still hankered after an occasional shot of excitement and, for better or worse, Sarah Fleetwood had managed to whet his appetite. He had to admit it was the first time in a long while that a woman had been this interesting. What few relationships he'd gotten involved in since his divorce had tended to be quiet and extremely low-key.

  There was nothing quiet or low-key about Sarah Fleetwood.

  The door of one of the motel rooms was flung wide as he started toward the office to inquire about Sarah's room number.

  "Hi, Gideon," Sarah called out across the parking lot. "I'm ready."

  He turned at the sound of Sarah's voice and saw her furiously locking the door behind herself. She must have been watching for him from the window. Gideon couldn't remember the last time a woman had waited impatiently for him at a window. Leanna had always been much too poised or preoccupied with her work for that sort of thing, at least when it came to waiting for him.

  Of course, he should bear in mind that Sarah Fleetwood was not just waiting for a dinner date. She was after five pairs of jeweled earrings known as the Fleetwood Flowers. That was bound to make any woman eager.

  "You're late," Sarah informed him as she hurried across the parking lot. Her high heels clicked on the pavement in a way Gideon found surprisingly sexy. The sound made him think of soft feminine sighs and sudden passion in the middle of the night.

  Annoyed with himself, he took his mind off sex and glanced at his watch. "Five minutes. You going to fire me for a lousy five minutes?"

  She gave a gurgle of delighted laughter as she hopped into the car without waiting for him to get the door. "Does that mean you've decided to let me hire you in the first place?"

  He slid behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition. "I'm thinking about it."

  "Then it's all set." Sarah sat back, clearly bubbling over with satisfaction.

  "Not quite." He spun the wheel and drove out of the small lot. "I said I'm thinking about it. I'll let you know my answer when I'm ready."

  "Okay, okay. Be that way. In the meantime, I'm hungry. Does this place called the Wild Water Inn have pasta?"

  "I've never noticed. Whenever I go there, I order fish. That's the house specialty."

  "Maybe they have some pasta and fish dishes. Linguine with clams or something."

  He slanted her an appraising glance. "I wouldn't be surprised. Even if it's not on the menu, I'll bet the chef will bend over backward to make a special."

  Sarah's eyes widened in surprise. "Do you really think so? He must be a very accommodating chef. What's his name?"

  "Mort."

  "Mort. I'll remember that. What a nice man."

  "You've never even met him and you don't know for sure yet if he'll go to the trouble of preparing something special for you." But Mort probably would do it, Gideon conceded. There was something about
Sarah Fleetwood that made a man want to please her just to see the delight reflected in her face.

  Any man or just him? he wondered with a sudden sense of foreboding.

  Gideon studied her out of the corner of his eye as she watched the rugged coastline sweep past. He knew he was checking to see if his first impression had been wrong. But his earlier reactions this afternoon did not undergo any drastic revision now.

  He guessed her age at around thirty, give or take a couple of years, although she might have been younger. Those clear, deep hazel eyes were just as unsettling now as they had been when he'd first opened his door to her, her small, elfin features just as piquant.

  The red silk sheath she wore played lightly over a slender, surprisingly sensuous body. There were veins of gold running through her light brown hair. She had brushed the heavy mass straight back from her forehead and tied it in a cascading ponytail that somehow managed to look chic instead of youthful. There was a sleek delicacy about her that would make anything she wore look stylish.

  All in all, she still reminded him of Ellora. Gideon briefly regretted that he hadn't put on a tie. He suddenly felt vaguely underdressed in his jeans and white shirt.

  "This scenery is magnificent, isn't it?" Sarah said, turning away from the window reluctantly. "I'm going to have to set a book here. It's the perfect backdrop for a romance with intrigue and suspense. Lots of drama and impending danger. Where did you live before you moved to Washington, Gideon?"

  "Here and there."

  "Ah-ha. A world-weary wanderer who's finally decided to settle down. I knew it. What did you do before you started publishing Cache?"

  "This and that."

  "Real-life treasure hunting, I'll bet."

  He gave her an irritated glance. "What makes you say that?"

  "Well, we already know you're not a mass murderer and I don't see you as a sales rep. So what else would give you a background in this and that?"

  "The inability to hold a good job for any length of time?"

  "Nah. You could do just about anything you wanted to do. If you wanted to hold down an ordinary job, you'd have done it. But I don't see you as an ordinary sort of man, Gideon. You're like one of the heroes out of my books and I never write about ordinary men."