Cole looked over at Sydney who was fast asleep in the seat next to him. It had amazed him that as soon as the truck had hit the highway, she had gone out like a light. He had thought that she would wake when they got to the diner, but she hadn't.

Not wanting to wake her, and knowing he couldn't return to the hotel and eat there, he decided to drive out to the old house a few miles past the dig site. He had discovered it years ago, when he had been with his first group of students, scouting for a dig site. It had caught his imagination, so he had done some research to learn the history. Now, he just liked to come and look at it, trying to picture it as it would have looked over a hundred years before when it was newly built.

He had parked and Sydney slept on as he unwrapped his burger and started to eat.

It was a full moon, and there was plenty of light in the cab as Cole looked over at her sleeping form, with her head lolling to one side she looked like a trusting child, and he wondered for the millionth time what made her tick. She wasn't turning out to be what he expected her to be, what he wanted her to be if he was honest. He wanted her to be like all the others, after his money or an illicit affair with the older man. He wanted that because that was what he knew, he could handle that, but he was quickly discovering that she was different.

Sydney wasn't like Bridget. Bridget had been a hard lesson that he had learned too young.

There was something about Sydney that tugged at his heart and made him want to care, and he hadn't cared about anyone but his family and a few close friends in ten years. If he was honest, he had noticed her when she was in his classes four years earlier, but he had ignored his interest. As a newly minted instructor at the University, he was too focused on trying to prove himself in the world of academia to pay attention to a plain little girl, not that he had been that much older.

That had changed the night of her parent's anniversary party. That night he had seen her as something other than a student, and it had scared him. He had wanted her then, and he wanted her now, but there was something else there too. It was something that had taken him by surprise, he was concerned for her safety and wellbeing. He had been livid when he had seen her that night on the highway. She could have been seriously hurt, and the last thing he needed to report back to the school was that one of his students had been injured. At least that was the reason he had given himself when he took her to get his aunt's car.

When Cole had caught her under a bush giggling with his mother, something had tugged at his gut. His mother was usually a shy woman, but she had taken to Sydney as most people did. Her natural ability to draw people out amazed him. How could she be who he thought she was when there were so many people who fell for her? Even Aunt Viola had liked her, and she hated everyone.

Cole had been upset that he had had to ask her to go down the well, he would have preferred to do it himself, but he wouldn't fit. It was apparent that she had been afraid, but she had done it anyway. She had done it because he had asked her to and because the little dog had needed help. None of the women he knew, Bridget included, would have done that. He was full of guilt that she had gotten hurt, and he was confused once more when she didn't complain about her wounds. It was her right to grumble and give him a hard time, but she had hidden the scratches, not wanting to tell him.

He looked over at her sleeping form again. She was a tough little thing, and he couldn't help but wonder what had made her that way.

Maybe he should take the time to find out, after all, he wasn't her teacher.

*******

Sydney must have fallen asleep on the short drive to the diner, and it must have been a deep sleep because she awoke in the dark with the smell of French fries surrounding her. It took her a minute to gather her wits, and she realized she was in the truck with Cole.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking through the windshield at a vacant and dilapidated old house that was lit by the moon. It looked like a living thing.

Cole pushed the bag of food towards her in an absent-minded way as he stared out of the window. She dug in, starving, as she waited for him to reply.

"Somewhere quiet, it's just an old house I discovered years ago," he said offhandedly.

"It looks creepy, you didn't bring me here to kill me, did you?" she joked.

"Don't tempt me." She heard the hint of a smile in his voice.

Sydney noted that he was thoughtful and distracted, so she kept her comments to a minimum as she ate, and when she finished, she put everything back in the empty bag and looked out of the window with Cole.

"Is it haunted?" She leaned forward staring at the monstrosity. It was a massive Victorian house sitting in the middle of the desert. There was a full wrap around porch, a turret, and steeply pitched roofs. The shutters were closed and nailed shut. Everything about it yelled keep out, stay away, but it somehow drew Sydney toward it.

"Have you ever been inside?" she asked.

"No." He shook his head.

"But you want to go inside, don't you?" Sydney asked. "I do too, there something about it that draws you to it." If she had been wearing real clothes and had on shoes, she would have been out of the truck in a shot. "You're lucky I don't have any shoes."

"Or pants," he teased, that made twice in one night. She thought she might be dreaming, who was this man, and where was Cole Easton, her grumpy professor? Hers, she liked the sound of that, if only it were true.

"Do you like old houses? Your family home seems old." Sydney continued with the conversation, trying to forget about the fact that she wasn't wearing pants.

"I do, but there aren't that many really old houses to be had this far west. My college roommate comes from Georgia, and his family has a house that predates the Civil War, my family home only dates to the 1920s, but I love the history in both of them." It was the most Cole had ever willingly shared with her, and she wanted to keep the conversation going as long as he could.

"I bet you know the entire history of this house, don't you?" She leaned back in her seat, suddenly very aware of him in the still dark cab of the truck. Her shirt seemed very little protection and she pulled it down around her knees and a little tighter.

"What makes you say that?" he sounded amused.

"You like a good mystery," Sydney shrugged. Wasn't that was archeology was, one giant mystery.

"Like you, you're a mystery," he said it so softly she barely heard it.

Her heart stopped at his words. Did that mean he liked her?

"So, out with it, what's this house's story?" She decided to ignore his comment, knowing it would be safer for both of them if she did.

"It was built by a man named Babcock. He had moved here with his young bride, who was rumored to have worked in a bordello. Babcock had been a gold miner who struck it rich, and his wife was supposedly the most beautiful woman of ill repute in the entire state of California."

"But to him, it didn't matter." Sydney sighed loving the story. "Of course, it helps that she was beautiful," she added as an afterthought.

She didn't see his questioning look in the dark because she was too busy staring at the house again; picturing the temptress.

"I guess not if he married her. He built the house for her here because it was far enough away from anyone that knew them, so they could start over-"

"With lots of love," Sydney finished the story, knowing in her heart it was true.

"And plenty of money," Cole added drily.

"You're really hung up on the money thing, aren't you?" Sydney frowned

"I've seen photos of them both, and he was not an attractive man, plus he was considerably older than she was." He shrugged as if that explained it all.

"And because he was ugly, that means that she couldn't love him?" Sydney was outraged for the poor Mrs. Babcock.

"I doubt she loved him. She saw a way out, and she took it." Cole's held a touch of bitterness.

"I think they were in love," Sydney insisted, feeling defensive. What would it mean for her if no one could love an unattractive person. Why should looks have anything to do with love.

"Based on what?" He sounded amused again.

"It feels like they were in love." Sydney looked back at the house, hoping they had been. "Did they have any children?"

"Yes, but they all died before reaching adulthood." Cole seemed unfazed by this sad fact.

"All of them?" She couldn't help the tears that came to her eyes.

"Yes. Mr. Babcock died at the ripe old age of ninety, and she was considerably younger than him and died when she was eighty-three. They left the house to a couple that worked for them and they, in turn, left it to their children."

"Why don't you buy it!" Sydney cried, thinking that it would be a perfect house for him. It looked as grumpy as he was.

"I don't have the money, Aunt Viola does, as I'm sure she's already mentioned to you, and besides I have a home."

"How did you know that she mentioned that to me?" Sydney frowned. Had they been talking about her?

"She mentions it to all of the girls that I bring home. I am curious what you said to her when she told you though." He shifted his attention off the house and toward  Sydney.

"I told her I thought it was tedious to have to control of all the money. I still think you should buy it," Sydney insisted, not really paying attention to his question and answering it automatically because her mind was lost in the potential of the house. "You're sure it's not haunted?"

"As far as I know it's not, but let it be haunted if that's what you want." Cole smiled in the darkness.

They sat in silence looking at the house both lost in their thoughts.

"Can we come back and look at it tomorrow?" Sydney asked in an eager voice.

"What would be the point?" He started the truck.

"If you don't bring me, I'll come by myself." Sydney didn't want to but she would, and he must have known it because he gave a long-suffering sigh as he pulled away from the house. She grinned with excitement. She liked a good mystery too.