Page 7 of Going, Going, Gone
Chapter Five
Gaping, Vanessa thought there was no way Dylan could be serious, until she gazed into his eyes and saw heat directed back at her. Desire pooled in her core, as her nipples tightened, and her heart rate galloped. She suddenly felt like she was floating on air—well, actually she was, but the fact they were high above the Earth wasn’t the cause of the butterflies in her gut anymore.
When she’d gone to the auction to win the date with Dylan, she hadn’t really thought about the details—namely that they would challenge her fear of heights. A two or three-story building didn’t bother her, but anything higher than that, her knees shook, and her stomach did flip-flops. She had no idea what’d caused her phobia to start in her teens, but as far back as she could remember, she’d declined to go on roller coasters and other high rides with her brother, sister, and friends. Merry-go-rounds were more her thing. So, what was she doing in a dinky little basket, floating up to an altitude of 2000 feet? She had no clue.
Dylan reached up and tucked a few loose strands of her hair behind her ear. “You’re a very, very attractive woman, Nessa. Don’t ever doubt that again.”
She had no idea what to say to that, so she just nodded. She loved hearing her name on his lips. She didn’t know why she’d put her family’s nickname for her down on the paperwork she’d had to fill out when she’d gone to the auction table to pay for her date. Faith was the only person outside of her blood relatives who called her Nessa. At work, she was Vanessa to her coworkers and staff, and Professor Adams to her students. Even though she had her Ph.D. in History, she’d never felt comfortable being called “Doctor Adams.”
A burst of gas fueling the flame keeping them aloft startled her, and just like that, Dylan’s spell she’d been under the past few minutes had been broken. She dropped her gaze to his broad chest, then pivoted to face away from him again. As scared as she was to see how high they were, it was better than dealing with his intense scrutiny and the sudden attraction she felt toward him. His hands returned to her hips, but this time he stood much closer to her, his front to her back. If she moved back an inch, his dick would nestle against her ass. The thought made her wet. She could feel his body heat penetrating her jeans and long-sleeved top the Blue Skies website had suggested she wear. Even though it was a comfortable seventy-eight degrees on the ground, up here, the temperatures were a lot cooler. Well, they had been until Dylan had warmed her up.Holy shit.She was here for one reason, and one reason only, yet when his fingers flexed into her flesh, everything she’d wanted to say to him fled from her mind.
“So, tell me more about you—did you grow up in Norfolk?”
Trying to ignore how his voice right next to her ear sent waves of arousal through her, Vanessa nodded. “Yes. My parents moved here from Richmond when I was two. What about you?”
“Mm-hm. I was born in Norfolk. Only time I haven’t lived here was during college—I went to Virginia Tech. Where did you get your degree?”
“Cornell University in New York. I also got my Ph.D. there. I loved C.U. but hated the New York winters.” Virginia had nothing on the frigid January and February temperatures in Ithaca.
“I can only imagine. A doctorate—I’m impressed.” He never gave her a chance to respond to that, immediately moving on to the next question. “Hobbies?”
“Um ... well, history of course. Reading. Research.”
“Research? What do you research?”
Here was her chance. She took a deep breath and dove head first into the topic she’d come here to discuss with him. “Local history mostly. Right now, I’m trying to find evidence to prove a local farm was part of the Underground Railroad.”
“Really? I—” His words were cut off at the same time she felt him stiffen. He let go of her hips and took a step to the side, glaring down at her face. “You’re Vanessa Adams?”
“Please, Dylan, let me explain.”
He bit his lip and shook his head before letting out a snort of disbelief. “You ... you paid $1800 for a date just to try to talk me out of a two-million-dollar deal. I don’t fucking believe this.”
Vanessa tried again, ignoring Ross’s expression of interest in the turn of events, as he stood on the other side of the basket. “Please, let me explain. I tried making appointments to see you at your office, but you cancelled them.”
“There’s a reason for that.” Dylan crossed his arms over his chest. Gone was the flirt. In his place stood a very pissed-off, arrogant man. A vein in his temple throbbed. “You have no proof that property has any historical value. I’ve had lawyers and researchers go over everything. There’s nothing you can say to change my mind. In two weeks, it’ll be sold and become the new home for a bunch of stores.”
“But—”
“Nothing! Jesus! I don’t fucking believe this,” he repeated before glancing at Ross. “How long is this damn ride?”
The older man chuckled in amusement. “You’ve got another thirty or forty minutes before we land, and before you ask, no I can’t put it down at the next little league field. My crew is meeting us at the drop site. Might as well listen to what the lady has to say.”
Dylan grumbled something under his breath before turning back to Vanessa. “Fine. You have until we land. Then I’m writing you a check for the $1800, because I have no intention of continuing with the rest of the date.”
Vanessa didn’t care about the picnic after they landed. She had a half hour to try to reason with him and was going to give it everything she had. “I grew up listening to Aunt Elise telling stories about how—”
“Wait a minute. Elise Coldrick didn’t have any heirs. How can you be her niece?”
“I’m not. I mean—she and my grandmother were best friends since childhood. My mother grew up calling her Aunt Elise, and so did me and my brother and sister.” When he just stared at her, she forged onward. “Elise would tell us stories that were passed down through her family. When her great-grandmother, Rose Coldrick, was a small child, her father used the farm to help hundreds of slaves escape the South. Aunt Elise showed me the trap door in the pantry that leads to a hidden room in the basement where they hid the runaways during the day, letting them rest, until nightfall when they would move to the next stop.”
“We saw that extra space. There wasn’t anything but dirt in there.”
“Did you use a metal detector?”
His brow furrowed. “Why would we do that?”
Vanessa sighed. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t if you didn’t have a reason. But I think there might be remnants of the shackles and chains the slaves wore down there. Or—or—”
