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strains of string music. Yet here in this dusty camp dining tent, surrounded by their co-workers, he found the woman before him more entrancing than any society maven.
    He brought his cup to his lips and sipped, using the moment to clear his mind of such traitorous thoughts. This was not the time or place for such nonsense. As always, concentrating on the job calmed his nerves. He needed to get to know this woman in order to find out how she operated. Hopefully, she would let something slip that would incriminate her.
    â€œTell me about your projects with the professor,” he began. “He told me you were in Turkey last year, assisting in the excavation of an ancient Assyrian city.”
    He watched as Francie's eyes glowed with excitement. Her entire demeanor changed as she warmed to her subject. Her smile widened, her voice became more animated, and her hands gestured as she described the trip. Had any man been able to bring her as much excitement as an archaeological dig?
    â€œIt was such an honor to be included in the project,” she insisted.
    â€œWhat kinds of things did you find?” he asked.
    Her brightness faded a bit, and her features scrunched into a thoughtful frown. “I can't talk about the specific finds,” she admitted. “I signed a contract of confidentiality—for security purposes. If someone were to talk about something really valuable we had uncovered, it might encourage thievery.”
    Confidentiality agreements were standard procedure for archaeological digs, but it wasn't uncommon for bits of information to leak out. A persistent reporter or an adversary could usually cull some information from a dig participant. Francie apparently had enough experience to understand the ramifications of releasing too much information. Was she being cautious, or was this a measure of her integrity?
    But he wasn't as interested in the finds as he was the woman in front of him. “I understand,” he insisted. “Tell me about Turkey. Did you enjoy your time there?”
    The brightness returned, and Alex felt his heart lighten in response. When she was nearby, he had to work to keep his face from sporting the goofy grin of a love-struck teenager. His voice became higher pitched, almost like that awkward stage in his early teens. Why did she have such an effect on him? He half expected his face to break out in pimples. He put his elbows on the table and rested his face in his hands, feeling his cheeks. There were no blemishes, but his face felt warm. Blasted woman.
    As Francie chattered away about her time in Turkey, Alex listened with half an ear. He had spent time there, so he knew about the places she described and could nod at the right times. He watched her eyes glow as she described the colorful bazaars, the delicious foods, the friendly people. Her hair escaped from her ponytail and framed her lightly tanned face. She looked young, healthy, and oh so desirable.
    His senses sharpened as he she mentioned some of her colleagues, members of the crew she had worked with.
    â€œWho was that?”
    â€œAndre? He was a graduate student, I think. The professor knew him. Why?”
    Andre Barrineau was no graduate student. He was suspected as a member of an internet crime ring but had never been convicted, due to lack of evidence. He waved a hand, encouraging her to go on with her story.
    â€œNever mind. I used to know someone by that name, but it must have been someone else. The Andre I knew is much too old and too independent to be a graduate student. Tell me about the restaurants in Izmir. How do they compare to those in Athens?”
    While she chatted, he made a mental note to find out why Andre's name had not appeared on the list of crew members working with Francie and Professor Theo on their previous digs. He couldn’t work effectively if the information he had was incomplete or incorrect.
    ****
    Later that night, Alex's phone chirped as he wrote his report.