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the last three minutes,
this
is room seven fourteen.”
    She picked up the receiver, placing it on her shoulderbefore she hitched up the front of the towel. “How did you get in here?”
    “You left the door ajar.” She wore no ring on her wedding finger, and she didn’t behave like a wife. Beau’s lust darkened as he imagined her long, graceful body spread beneath some rutting, gray-haired scholar—but surely she was too young for that. “Forgive me, but who are you? The professor’s daughter?”
    “I didn’t leave the door open.” Doubt flickered over her features, and her confusion made her seem even younger. “At least I don’t think I did.” She slowly replaced the receiver. “I’m Dr. Stuart. The
only
Dr. Stuart.”
    “You can’t be.” He studied her. “I’m looking for Dr.
Al
Stuart.”
    “That’s me,” she insisted. “A. L. Stuart. I use my initials for professional purposes.”
    Beau dragged a hand through his hair. “You’re a woman, and hardly more than a child.”
    “I’m twenty-six, and I earned my first PhD when I was twenty-one. Excuse me, but I’m uncomfortable talking to you like this.” She unzipped a backpack and bent over to rummage through it. “Why did you assume I was a man?”
    Beau caught himself admiring the long, elegant lines of her bare legs. “Tremayne told me your name was
Al
Stuart. When we spoke in the bar, you knew I was looking for a man.”
    “I didn’t know who you were or what you wanted, so I was simply being careful.” She straightened. “You should have mentioned that you were from the Hylord Foundation.”
    He inclined his head. “I also happen to be cautious with strangers.”
    “You mean, when you’re not tackling them?” She scooped up a robe from the end of the bed. “I have the preliminary excavation schedule prepared. I was going to fax it to Ireland in the morning.” She shrugged into the robe, turning her back to him as she let the towel drop to the floor and tied the belt. “I also plan to file progress reports twice a week, if that’s acceptable.” She faced him, her features completely composed, but her scent still hot with anger and something more. “Are you with Hylord’s local office? Should I e-mail a copy to you?”
    Obviously the girl was immune to
l’attrait
, which meant he would have to rely on persuasion. “I have been sent by the—by Hylord—to oversee your project.”
    That startled a laugh out of her. “
You’re
an archaeologist?” When he shook his head, her gaze went from his face to his chest and toes, and then flashed up again. “What other digs have you worked on?”
    He couldn’t deceive her on that score. “This would be my first.”
    Her jaw set. “I’m sorry, but I can’t have this.”
    “It’s done,” he assured her. “I’m yours.”
    Her scent abruptly cooled. “This project is very problematical. I have a great deal of work to do in a very short amount of time.” As even as her tone was, her eyes filled with some strange emotion, as if she regretted the words she spoke. “I can’t afford to be distracted by someone like you.”
    She had no choice in the matter, but still her rejectionrankled. “Why do you believe that I would be a hindrance?” He gestured at the carpet. “Other than the unfortunate tackling incident, which, I promise, will not be repeated.”
    “In order to make accurate reports to the foundation on my progress, you’ll have to shadow me constantly.” Her lips twisted. “That is the real reason they sent you, isn’t it, Mr.…ah…?”
    “Beauregard York.” He offered the Americanized name that he used when among mortals. “Do call me Beau.” He gave her his most fetching smile as he lied to her. “I was not sent here to spy on you, Dr. Stuart.”
    “Logic dictates no other alternative,” she informed him. “Your foundation has been very generous, but they’ve also made several stipulations to ensure secrecy. This is the first major project I’ve