Page 121 of Seduction Under the Southern Stars

“They’ll mostly be archaeologists,” he points out. “It’s hardly going to be a rave.”

That makes me laugh. “Maybe,” I concede. “I’ll see how I feel.”

“All right. I’ll work on you.” He has a bite of his bread roll and waggles his eyebrows.

I give a wry smile. The thought of being in a room full of people makes my heart race. But I want to watch the panel and see Linc speak. I’ll sit relatively near the door, I tell myself, so I can slip out if I need to.

The food is magnificent, and, feeling adventurous, I ask for a glass of white wine. Linc suggests a Sauvignon Blanc, and I don’t miss that he asks for a glass of the most expensive one on the menu. I sip it while I eat, tasting passionfruit and mango, and really enjoying it. I have no interest in getting drunk, but I like the way it relaxes me.

After dinner, Linc says he’d like to meet the organizers of the conference before the panel starts, and he asks me to go with him. So after a quick freshen up in our room, I nip into the bathroom and change into a long, blue summer dress, coming out to find Linc in black trousers and a dark purple shirt.

We head down to the theater. Sure enough, the organizers are there setting up tables on the stage ready for the panel, and a few people are already filtering into the seats. Holding my hand, Linc leads me to the front and up to a woman with silvery-gray hair in a short, neat bob. The badge on her jacket says ‘Alethea Everest.’

“Alethea.” Linc holds out his hand, “hi, I’m Linc Green.”

“Oh, Linc! I saw you’d come aboard.” She shakes his hand, beaming. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“This is Elora-Rose Bell,” he says, gesturing to me, “she’s… my partner.”

If she notices the slight hesitation as he suddenly realizes he doesn’t know what to call me, she doesn’t comment on it. “Elora-Rose,” she says, “lovely to meet you.”

“Oh, it’s just Elora,” I say hastily. “He always insists on adding my middle name.”

“It has a ring to it,” he says.

She just smiles. “Come on, let me introduce you to the others.”

We meet the other members of the panel tonight—two guys and three women who are all archaeologists and historians from various organizations across Australia and New Zealand. Linc is the only archaeologist from further afield. The panel tonight is about field excavation techniques, and he tells me he’s here because he’s taken part in so many excavations in Europe, where they often use exploratory trenches, whereas open excavations are favored here because the archaeological layers aren’t as deep as those in countries with a longer history.

“Well, I’d better take my seat,” Linc says, leading me to a seat near the front. I’ll sit at the end of the row, as I’ll get claustrophobic if I sit in the middle and can’t get out easily.

I lift onto my tiptoes, so my lips are close to his ear. “By the way, just so you know—I’m going commando tonight.”

His eyebrows shoot up. He stares at me for a moment, then slips an arm around me and surreptitiously brushes it from my shoulder blades down my spine. He finds no bra strap and no VPL, and his eyes widen.

“How am I supposed to concentrate now?” he murmurs, his expression turning a tad exasperated.

I shrug and giggle, then slide into my seat. “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” he replies sarcastically. He heads for the stage and climbs the steps, and stops to chat to Alethea, but I see him glance over at me, and I know he’s having trouble not thinking about me. I feel a little smug. Now he knows how I feel all the time!

As seven approaches, the seats fill up quickly, and before long the theater is full, voices rising and falling as everyone waits eagerly for the panel to begin.

Linc takes a chair in the middle of the table, and when Alethea calls for quiet and begins to introduce the panel, he winks at me, making me flush a little as a few people spot it and glance over at me curiously. When she introduces him, he stands and gives a little bow, and then laughs as a few people in the audience whoop, while everyone else claps. He’s obviously well known, even Down Under, and I wait for the panel to begin with growing interest.

It turns out to be a fun hour, and soon I’m enjoying myself so much that I forget about all the people in the room. The topic is fascinating, and it’s great to be surrounded by other people who are as interested as me. I don’t have to apologize for my passion here—everyone understands. The people on the panel are interesting and bounce off each other, with Linc, of course, keeping the conversation moving along and making everyone laugh.

I’m fascinated by his easy-going manner almost as much as his archaeological knowledge. He puts himself down, and maybe it’s true that he doesn’t have the grades that I have, but that certainly doesn’t mean he’s lacking in intelligence. He answers questions on excavations across Europe, explaining how he’s used trenches on sites from Stonehenge to the Viking ship in Norway, and his range of knowledge, as well as his ability to deliver it in such an interesting way, leave me speechless.

I thought I was half in love with him, but I realize, as I sit there listening to him holding an entire theater of people in thrall, that I’m wholly in love with him. I was foolish to think it wasn’t going to happen. I had stars in my eyes when I was a girl, and they’re still there, both old red dwarfs and new blue stars shining so bright it hurts my eyes. I’m just crazy about him, and I’ve been really stupid and fallen for him so hard I’m surprised I don’t have bruises.

He doesn’t want to talk about what happens when it’s time to leave, yet, but as I sit there, watching him and aching with love for him, all I can think about is how empty I’m going to feel when he goes. And how my poor, tender heart is going to break once again, because the cement holding the pieces together is still wet, and I realize then it’s never going to set. Linc is only ever going to be the one for me, and if I can’t have him, I’m not sure I want any other man.

Ah fuck. I’ve really got it bad.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Linc

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