Chosen by Desire (6 page)

Before her advisor could answer, someone knocked on the door. Leonora rose to answer it.

A fellowship from the famous Bái H
. Carrie’s grin widened. This was a coup—an honor. Having this on her résumé would go a long way in convincing the board she was worthy of a job. Combined with her theory on the Scrolls of Destiny, she was a shoo-in.

“Carrie, meet Francesca della Vega.” Leonora gestured to the doorway.

Carrie turned around, not expecting the tall, elegant woman she saw in the threshold. Bái H
’s assistant was gorgeous. Perfect features, porcelain skin, and long, slim limbs. Fiery red hair gave her color, even if it was severely restrained in a knot. She looked flawless and expensive.

“Ms. della Vega, this is Carrie Woods, the scholar you’ve expressed interest in.”

Carrie smiled, knowing she was being appraised, too. She also knew she’d be found sorely lacking, in her old jeans and scuffed boots. At least she had a nice shirt on because she was working this evening.

But she was a scholar, not a socialite. They’d be interested in her mind, not her fashion sense. Or lack thereof. “It’s great to meet you,” she ventured into the stilted silence.

The statuesque woman inclined her head to one side. “Ms. Woods.”

Carrie grinned. The lack of enthusiasm wasn’t lost on her.

Leonora waved to the empty chair. “Please sit down.”

Francesca perched on the edge of the seat as if she was afraid of wrinkling her suit. “I trust Dr. Hsu has informed you of our offer.”

“Yeah, Leonora just did. I can’t wait to hear the details,” Carrie said with an extra dose of perkiness. She felt like she had to compensate for the other two women.

Opening her briefcase-purse, Francesca pulled out a Blackberry and tapped at the screen. In a way that reminded Carrie of her uncle Milton the lawyer, Francesca began reciting from her notes. “The work you’re asked to do consists of translation of several undocumented texts from the Ming Dynasty. We understand that time period is your specialty.”

“Yes. I—”

“In compensation for your work, you’ll receive a modest stipend as well as room and board,” she continued. She drew a sheet of paper from a leather portfolio in her bag and held it out.

Curious, Carrie accepted it. She had to blink a couple times to make sure she’d read the amount of the stipend correctly. She looked up and gaped at Francesca, sure there had to be a typo. One too many zeros.

Francesca frowned, a faint wrinkling of her fine brow. “Is the amount adequate?”

“Oh, it’s more than adequate.” Carrie shook her head. It was more money than she made in four months at the bar. “The fellowship is for how long?”

“I estimate it will take four weeks to complete the translation. However, Bái H
might have other translation work for you, as well. The estate has been without a curator for seven years.”

“Wow.” Carrie arched her brows. “That’s a long time. Is there any reason for that?”

Francesca shifted in her seat and lowered her head as if the Blackberry in her lap required her attention. After a long stretch of silence, she said, “There hasn’t been need for anyone until now.”

Curious. Very curious. Something was up here, and she wanted to figure out what.

She’d obviously read too many Nancy Drew books growing up. Grinning, she shook her head at herself.

“You aren’t interested?” Francesca asked.

Carrie blinked at the tinge of alarm in the woman’s voice. “No, I’m totally interested. I’d be interested even with a tenth of that stipend. It’s any historian’s dream to work on a collection like Bái H
’s.”

“Quite.” The unease fell from Francesca, leaving her brisk and all business once again. She shuffled through the portfolio again and pulled several pages, which she held out. “You’ll want details about the position.”

“Of course,” Carrie murmured as she took them.

“It begins on Monday—”

“Monday?” Her head popped up. “That’s three days away.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Uh, no.” She mentally reviewed her schedule. Her boss, Johnny, wasn’t going to like her leaving again, but Vivian would probably welcome the extra hours—it’d give her extra time to torture Gabe, which was her favorite pastime. “I can swing it.”

Francesca continued like that was a foregone conclusion. “The hours you work will be flexible and probably long, and you’ll be required to be at Bái H
’s disposal. He’s set aside a room for your use—”

“In his home? Isn’t that, I don’t know, odd?”

“It’s Bái H
’s request,” she answered. But her tone said, yeah, she thought it was strange, too. “You’ll also have access to a car and any other amenities you’ll need.”

“I don’t need a car in San Francisco. I take public transportation.”

Francesca began putting away her portfolio. “You won’t be in San Francisco. The collection is in Santa Monica.”

“Santa Monica?” Carrie gawked at her before turning to her advisor.

Leonora said nothing, her gaze blank.

What did that mean? Pack your swimsuit because you’re headed to Southern California? Working with texts never before documented
was,
after all, the chance of a lifetime.

“Ms. Woods?”

She looked at Francesca and smiled. “When is my flight leaving?”

♥ Uploaded by Coral ♥

W
hen do you leave? And do you have enough condoms?”

Carrie shook her head and tossed a bunch of her nicer T-shirts into her suitcase. “This is a business trip, Mom. I won’t need condoms. And I leave Sunday.”

“Oh, honey, that’s wonderful.”

She paused in her packing. “It is?”

“Of course. I have a great feeling about this. I can almost feel your soul mate waiting for you.”

Oh, geez—not the soul mate stuff again. “Bái H
isn’t my soul mate.”