Stolen Heat (8 page)

He moved past her, back toward the main door of the bedroom suite, leaving her standing in the middle of all that lavishness. “I have some paperwork I need to do. Take your time.”

Then he was gone.

Alone, Kat’s brow drew together. What exactly was going on here?

She’d thought he’d brought her here for sex, but he hadn’t once touched her. Aside from saying she was pretty in the lobby, he hadn’t actually done anything to indicate he was really interested in anything other than friendship. Come to think of it, the night of their dinner, he hadn’t touched her other than to shake her hand and wish her good night. Sure, he’d sent her heady looks, but what if she’d been misreading him?

Growing more confused by the minute, Kat scratched her head, only to come away with a handful of grit. She turned for the bathroom, flipped on the light and discovered she’d been right. The entire room was done in white marble and was the size of the living room in the flat she shared with Shannon. Though there were female toiletries galore on the counter, there was nothing that indicated a man had stepped foot in here. No used towel, shaving kit or even a comb on the counter. In the car, Pete had told her he’d arrived in Cairo earlier in the day, checked into his hotel, showered and changed. But that didn’t look like the case to her eyes.

Just what kind of game was he playing?

Apprehension growing, Kat peeled off her clothes, started the water and stepped into the glass-enclosed shower. The heat and steam immediately relaxed her, and with each passing minute she convinced herself she was overreacting. Maybe he just didn’t want to touch her until she’d cleaned up. That made more sense than her thinking he had ulterior motives. And it was highly likely the maid had straightened up after he’d had his shower.

Twenty minutes later, when her fingers were wrinkled and her skin was warm and dewy, she climbed out and wrapped herself in a plush terry robe. The cotton was soft against her skin, and she felt worlds better than she had only moments before. Feet bare, she padded out into the bedroom and moved to the closet to find something clean to wear.

She gasped at what she saw inside. Two pair of slacks—one black, one brown—silky blouses in a variety of colors and low matching sandals. All pieces made from sumptuous fabrics, bearing expensive designer names any moron would recognize.

She swallowed hard, knowing the few outfits alone hanging in this closet probably cost more than her entire wardrobe, both here in Cairo and at home.

But something wasn’t right.

Kat backed up until her legs hit the bed and crumpled beneath her. And staring at the extravagant clothing and the opulence of the room, she had a flashback to the offhand
Pretty Woman
comment Pete had made in the lobby.

Things started to click into place. Each of the pieces hanging in the closet was beautiful, but they weren’t overly sexual in any way. Not the kind of thing a potential lover might buy for a woman. With sinking suspicion, she realized he hadn’t brought her here for sex like she’d thought. Instead, he’d brought her here because he wanted something from her. Wanted something so much he was willing to try to buy her off with trendy clothing and posh luxury in lieu of his body.

In a rush she remembered the way he’d been eyeing the artifacts in the tomb during his first few tours, and the way he’d watched everything around him with a keen eagle’s eye.

Her stomach tightened as reality smacked her in the face. Tomb robbers did indeed exist in this day and age. And there was an enormous belowground market that traded in ancient antiquities. She’d even heard stories of shady dealers scouting out tombs, passing themselves off as tourists and doing whatever they could to get information from workers. And with the pieces she suspected had gone missing from her site…

Oh, God. She’d been stupidly naïve. She’d been so
sucked in by his good looks and charm she hadn’t even questioned what he was really about.

Heart pumping, Kat rose on unsteady legs and opened the bedroom door. The living room appeared empty at first, and though she wanted to rush out of the disgustingly beautiful suite she’d at first envisioned as a lover’s palace, now all she wanted were answers.

Her jaw clenched when she spotted Pete sitting at a desk facing windows that looked out toward the Pyramids, his back to her, his hand busily moving over a piece of paper. Dusk was just settling over the desert, and the lights were only now coming up, spotlighting the massive stone triangles against the dimming sky.

“Just what the hell’s going on here?”

He turned sharply and looked at her, obviously not having heard her march across the floor. For a moment she was sucker punched again, only this time with that familiar lust she’d been experiencing since he’d shown up. He was still wearing the same clothes as before, but he’d added a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that for some reason made him look damn sexier and even more rugged than he already was.

His eyes swept over her as he swiveled his chair and leaned back, taking her in from wet hair to bare feet. “Nothing fit?”

She fisted her hands on her hips and ignored the playful tone of his voice. “I didn’t try any of it on.”

“You didn’t like the clothes?”

“I’m not some hooker you can buy off.”

With slow movements, he set the pen he’d been holding on the stack of papers at his side and regarded her like a lion tamer considering the foolishness of trying to coax a fresh steak from his growling pet. “You’re going to have to explain that one for me. I’m a little behind.”

“I’m getting at
that.
” She pointed to the bedroom, then lifted her arms to indicate the entire room. “And
this.
Why did you bring me here? It’s pretty clear it’s not because you’re dying to jump into bed with me.”

“Whoa. Wait a minute.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw and had the audacity to look amused. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea.”

“Oh, no, I have the very right idea. A woman knows when a man’s not attracted to her, so don’t talk to me like I’m stupid. Just come out and say what it is you want from me and stop playing these games.”

He rose from his seat, the leather creaking beneath him, and hesitantly stepped toward her. “What makes you think I’m not attracted to you?”

“A woman knows.”

“How?” His eyes were soft and hypnotic through those lenses, and she fought to keep her common sense in check. “Tell me how you know, specifically, that I’m not interested, Kat.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “For one, you haven’t touched me once today.”

“I didn’t want to startle you. You’ve looked a little nervous.”

“You barely touched me the night we had dinner either.”

“True. But not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

Her eyes narrowed. “There’s not a sexy thing in that closet of designer labels you bought.”

“In the first place, I didn’t buy them. I happen to have a…friend who’s got an in with some of those designers. And in the second, I disagree. Those clothes might not look sexy on the rack, but I’m willing to bet on you they’re amazing.”

He was throwing her off with those lusty looks, but she knew she was right. There was something about Peter Kauffman that just didn’t add up. “A guy who’s interested in a woman
acts
like he’s interested.”

He smiled then, a slow and confident grin that turned her insides to Jell-O, but he didn’t so much as respond.

Her stomach tightened. “And it’s obvious you aren’t staying in that room you pushed me into because there’s nothing of yours in there.”

“Do you want something of mine in there?”

Kat faltered, and he saw it. She hated the fact he was getting to her like this when she knew better. She lifted her chin. “That’s not the point.”

“I think it’s exactly the point.” He moved closer until she felt the heat radiating from his body, but she refused to let him intimidate her, so she didn’t step back. “In fact, I think the point here is that I’m different from the other men you’ve been with, and it’s confusing you.”

He was absolutely right about that. He was completely different, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“I know that shouldn’t thrill me,” he went on, “but I can’t help it. Because you’re completely different from the women I’ve been interested in, too, and in my defense, I haven’t known exactly how to deal with that.”

She watched in slow motion as he ran his finger down the length of her sleeve. Even through the thick terry her skin tingled.

“As for not touching you.” He shook his head. “I’ve been dying to touch you since the first second I laid eyes on you.”

He lifted the finger that had just stroked her arm and pointed over his shoulder toward a door she hadn’t noticed behind him. “This suite has two bedrooms. My suitcase is in there. I didn’t want to put any pressure on you.”

He took off his glasses, and when he looked down at her she was hit with the full impact of those stormy, suddenly serious eyes. “I don’t live here, Kat. I’m based out of Miami where my gallery’s growing like a toddler. I get to Cairo maybe three, four times a year on buying trips or when a colleague calls with something of interest. I wasn’t planning on coming back until the fall.”

She took a breath, because the air was suddenly hot and sultry, and she had a strange feeling maybe she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion way too fast.

“That dinner we had? The one where you were convinced afterward I didn’t want to see you again? Furthest thing from the truth. I suggested we go for a walk because I didn’t want to take you home, and once we got to your flat all I could think about was dragging you against me and kissing you senseless. I would have given up my left arm to go upstairs with you, but I forced myself to leave instead, because I didn’t want you to be a one-night stand.”

One-night stand?
Oh no.
“Then…why am I here now?”

His gaze ran over her face, down to her lips and back up to her eyes. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night. About how soft your skin is, about how sweet you smell, about the sound of your sexy voice. Just the memory is enough to drive me mad.”

Her toes curled against the carpet.

“I have to be in Barcelona in three days,” he said. “I have a mountain of paperwork from my last trip that I never finished, and I left a buyer high and dry to fly out here last night. I don’t have time to do the normal dating ritual of dinner and a movie and an ‘I’ll call you’ goodnight kiss. I brought you here today because I wanted time alone with you so we could get to know each other better before I have to leave again. To find out if this spark between us is real or imagined. And my bags are in that room because I didn’t want you to feel pressured to do something you weren’t ready for.” His voice deepened. “But don’t for one minute assume I’m not dying to get inside you in any way you’ll let me right this second. Because I guarantee you’d be wrong.”

Liquid slid through Kat’s veins, then pooled in her stomach until she felt like she would burst. “And, um, what did you discover?”

His brows drew together to form a slight crease between his gorgeous eyes. “About what?”

“About us. This spark. Is it…is it still there after I made a fool of myself a few minutes ago?”

One side of his mouth curled in that sexy half grin, the one she’d been itching to lick off his face through their whole dinner. “Oh yeah. Definitely there for me. What do you think?”

She finally drew a breath. “I think if you don’t kiss me soon, I’m going to die.”

His arms were around her so fast, she gasped. And when the long, lean line of his body came into contact with hers, she knew she’d been wrong. He was hard as stone and very obviously aroused.

Warmth spread between her thighs, and even as she berated herself for being a fool, her heart jumped in time with his pulse.

He leaned down, but he didn’t kiss her. His mouth hovered over hers until she thought she’d scream. She curled her fingers in his dress shirt, trying to draw him closer.

“This is going to be complicated,” he whispered.

“The good things always are.”

He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, sending sparks of desire straight to her center. “I’m not looking for a one-nighter with you. Fair warning, Kit-Kat, I want a whole lot more.”

Oh, so did she. She barely knew him, but one thing was clear: he was going to change her life.

His lips settled over hers, gentle at first, but with growing urgency. As his tongue slid into her mouth and desire exploded in her core, she responded with everything she had in her.

When they were both breathless and his mouth finally parted from hers, she slipped her hands up into his hair and stared into his smoldering eyes, knowing there was
no going back for her. “So, um, you showed me my room but not yours. I’m curious what the rest of this suite looks like.”

His answer was a lusty groan followed by strong arms sweeping her off the floor to carry her across the room.

Present day
Northern Pennsylvania

It had to be the longest night of his life. Or the longest few hours to daylight.

Take your pick,
Pete thought.
Shit in one hand, piss in the other.
Either way he looked at it, the end result was still the same. Every muscle in his body twitched in time to the second hand on his watch as dawn inched closer.

In the shower, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the night he’d ignored the God-given gift of common sense that had kept him alive for thirty-two years and gone after Kat at her tomb. Dammit, he should have stayed away. If he’d thought with his big head that day instead of his little one, none of this would ever have happened.

Scowling at the memory, he finished showering and reluctantly emerged from the bathroom only to find the tiny apartment empty. He suspected Kat was in the adjacent garage, but he wasn’t interested enough to go searching for her. And to be honest, he was relieved at the silence. His brain was still working around everything she’d told him.

Yeah, well, he wasn’t about to go overanalyzing any of that now, was he?

But he still had questions. Like how the hell she’d gotten the jump on him and why his face looked like it had been used as a battering ram recently.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he pawed through the small closet next to the kitchen. He didn’t feel as sick to his stomach anymore, but his brain was still pounding away at his skull, and he knew this time it wasn’t due to sedatives or any alcohol he’d consumed earlier but from reality crashing down around him. Pulling out a pair of worn jeans and an NYU sweatshirt, he frowned.

“Goddamn hand-me-downs,” he mumbled. As if the situation weren’t bad enough, he had to actually wear Slade’s clothing.

Muttering curses at no one in particular, but with no other options, he pulled on the jeans and refused to think about the fact he was going commando in another guy’s pants. He tugged the sweatshirt over his head, found a pair of wool socks in a basket on the shelf and pushed his feet into a pair of hiking boots in the bottom of the closet.

“Oh, this just figures.” He bent down and shoved his foot around as he tied the laces as loose as possible, the whole time glowering at the size tens that were—just his luck—one size too small. When he stood up too quickly, his head spun, and a wave of nausea hit him hard.

Food was a good idea at this point. Soak up the drug, sober up his head. He turned for the small kitchen only to find most of the contents were frozen foods and packaged meals.

He didn’t have the patience or inclination to actually cook right now, so he pawed through the cupboard until he found a jar of peanut butter and decided that was better than nothing. As he pulled a frozen loaf of bread from
the freezer, he couldn’t help wondering when the hell Slade had been here last. The guy was probably off on ops half the time, but you’d never know it by looking at the supplies he kept on hand. Or maybe he’d left the agency and been in hiding with Kat all these years.

That thought was enough to send the blood roaring to Pete’s head.
Not going there. None of my business anyway.

With more force than necessary, he grabbed two slices of frozen bread, slapped peanut butter on one and smashed them together. One bite told him his stomach wasn’t going to like the combination, but he figured,
screw it.
Anything was better than this drugged-out feeling.

After he choked down the sandwich and polished off a cola, he went back to the closet, found a gray parka that looked like it would fit his shoulders and tugged a black wool cap over his head. He shoved a pair of fingerless gloves into the coat pocket, then searched the closet some more. A little metal box up on the top shelf drew his attention.

He pushed propane canisters to the side, reached for the box and pulled it down. The locking mechanism on the front was child’s play, really. Just enough to deter a kid or a halfwit. Frowning, he carried the box into the closet-sized kitchen, set it on the counter and dug through the drawers until he found a metal skewer.

Not a pick, but it’d work in a pinch.

It took him longer than he’d have liked to pop the lock, and he knew his buddy Rafe would have laughed his ass off if he’d been watching, but the end result was still the same. The lock gave with a soft click. Pete tossed the skewer on the counter, lifted the lid and let out a low whistle when he looked inside.

At least one damn thing was going his way. The 10mm was high end and probably the most expensive thing in the whole apartment. He lifted the black metal, turned it from side to side and checked the chamber. Like an old
habit, he pocketed one magazine, snapped the second into place, then tucked the firearm into the back waistband of his jeans.

And as he did he had a sudden flash of doing the same damn thing time and again, in a lot shittier places than this.

He’d been in tight scrapes before. A man in his line of work ran into shady characters in some of the worst corners of the world. It went without saying that the poorest and least policed countries had the biggest treasures and the greediest suppliers, and he’d capitalized on that fact over the years. Sure, his business was pretty much on the up and up now, but six years ago, when he’d met Kat? That was another matter entirely.

Since he didn’t want to think about anything remotely related to Kat, he ran a hand over his face, scratched his jaw and wished like hell for a razor.

Metal banging around in the adjacent garage echoed through the room. He eyed the clock on the wall in the small living area. 5:15 a.m. The sun would be up in a few hours. He couldn’t hear the wind whipping against the building anymore, and he hoped that meant the mother-f-ing storm had finally passed.

Pete looked at the ratty sofa. If he were smart he’d lie his ass down and get an hour of shut-eye before he had to go outside and dig himself out of this mess. He’d need all his energy so he could make tracks back to civilization as soon as it was light.

More banging drifted to his ears. Followed by a curse.

He bit back the eloquent French retort that jumped to his lips and glared toward the garage door. And knew he wasn’t getting any sleep now or anytime soon. He was about to make matters worse.

He stepped into the garage only to be greeted by a familiar view that socked him hard in the gut. The hood of the rusted Ford he’d planned to use as his escape vehicle
was up, and Kat was leaning over the thing doing God-knows-what to the engine. What stopped him wasn’t the fact she was tinkering with his only means out of this hellhole, but that she’d changed into jeans, her heartshaped ass filling out the worn denim as if it were a second skin.

And staring at her there, light from an unshaded bulb highlighting each and every curve, he had a sudden memory flash: pressing his lips to the twin dimples on her lower back, running his hands over the smooth skin of her gorgeous backside, clutching her hips tight with his fingers as he sank inside her from behind and bent to kiss her neck.

Warmth he grudgingly recognized as arousal speared him in the stomach, drifted lower until he had to shift his feet around to relieve the pressure in his groin. And that was when he realized his body obviously wasn’t up to speed with his brain quite yet. The little man in his pants didn’t know sex with her was no longer an option.

He clenched his jaw and fought back the arousal that only pissed him off more, then unleashed all that pent-up anger on her. “Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing now?”

Kat’s head hit the top of the hood with a crack that echoed through the garage and sent stars firing off in her line of vision.

She bit her tongue to keep from swearing and jerked away from the engine block. Rubbing the back of her throbbing skull, she glanced behind her and saw Pete, freshly showered and smelling just as good as she remembered, looking more pissed off than a chained pit bull.

“I asked what you think you’re doing,” he barked.

Okay, his shower hadn’t done much to improve his mood. His tight shoulders were bunched for battle in that worn gray sweatshirt. Deep frustration lines marred his
forehead beneath that black wool cap covering his hair. He had one heck of a shiner around his eye which, for reasons Kat couldn’t explain, made him look that much more dangerous and sexy as hell.

He clenched his jaw as he waited for her to answer, and her gaze dropped to his mouth.

Yeah, that sweet and tempting mouth that had kissed her silly before was now set in a grim line. He was downright ticked she was anywhere near the vehicle he planned to use as his escape.

Escape. Right. That was exactly what he planned to do. And from the looks of it, sooner rather than later.

“I was just checking to make sure it runs,” she said as she massaged her scalp.

He eyed her like he didn’t believe her, then moved to examine the engine himself. Careful to step around her so their bodies didn’t come close to making contact.

Definitely still pissed. Although at the moment she wasn’t sure why he thought he had the market cornered on that emotion.

She waited while he pulled the dipstick out and checked the oil level. She held the rag out for him as a peace offering, but he ignored it, instead wiping his grimy hands on the thighs of his jeans.

Oh right, not his jeans.
Marty’s jeans.
No wonder he was in an extra-foul mood.

He walked around the side of the truck without speaking, climbed behind the wheel and started the ignition with the keys she’d left in the cab. His eyes narrowed on the dash. Then he killed the engine and climbed back out. “There’s less than a quarter tank of gas. How far to the nearest town?”

“Keeneyville’s about ten minutes down the road. In good conditions. But there’s only one gas station, and it might be closed due to the storm.”

“Great.” He perched his hands on his narrow hips and glanced around the garage as if considering his options.

She touched the medal at her chest and thought about her own. She’d found the gas cans Marty had mentioned on the phone, but there still wasn’t enough fuel for two vehicles to get out of here, and considering the weather, the limo was pretty much useless at this point. It had barely made it the last ten miles to the farm when the snow had been seriously piling up. So that left the truck. She needed to get to Philly, and he wanted out of this garage.

Indecision warred within her as she bit her lip. She really wanted to tear into him for being such a dick but knew that wouldn’t get her anywhere. So she tried for sweetness instead. “I know where we can get some fuel, but I’m going to need a favor from you first.”

He slowly turned her direction with eyes that could have burned a hole right through her and felt like they had. Refusing to shrink from that look, she shifted her feet and lifted her chin in defiance. So he was ticked at her. So she’d lied to him. So what? He’d done some pretty awful things, too.

“Oh, this should be good,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his feet wide in an aggressive stance. “Lay it on me. I’m all ears. What could I possibly do to help you out, Kat? Please. Tell me. I’m
dying
to help.”

No, not just a dick. Now he was being a complete asshole. She refused to drop to his level. “I need to go to Philadelphia.”

“And that impacts me how?”

She glanced at the pickup.

Understanding dawned in his eyes. “In this truck.”

She nodded.

“My truck,” he said again.

“The limo won’t make it in this snow. And besides, there’s not enough gas for both vehicles to leave here. So…I was thinking we’d go together. I can’t leave you out here stranded without transportation.”

“Generous of you.” His brows dropped low. “Why do you need to go to Philly?”

She hesitated, sure this would only make things worse, but really, what were her other options? “I made a call. A friend of a friend has agreed to help me. Us, if you want. But we have to get to Philadelphia first.”

“A friend,” he said with guarded suspicion. “Someone with the government?”

“Something like that.”

He studied her a beat. “Your friend of a friend wouldn’t happen to be an acquaintance of Slade’s, would he?”

She bit her lip. “Maybe.”

“Maybe,” he repeated. Then he shook his head, disgust running across his face. “No, I think definitely. You just wanna keep rubbing my nose in it, huh?” He turned away to study a shelving unit across the room.

“It’s not like that,” she said quickly.

“I don’t care what it’s like,” he said sharply. “All I want right now is to get the hell out of here.”

His tone was straight and to the point, but his body language belied something else: frustration, anger…jealousy?

Definitely not the latter. Not after the way he’d walked away from her so easily all those years before. “Pete—”

A loud popping pierced the quiet. Metal blasted off metal in a long series of bursts that sounded like a garage full of cars backfiring all at once. Wood panels on the exterior wall across the room cracked and split with an echoing
thwack.

One minute Kat was standing on her feet ready to dig her heels in over their transportation situation, the next Pete dove for her, taking her down hard on the cement
floor. Her back and shoulders took the brunt of the fall. Her skull cracked against the unforgiving concrete. A wooden shelf behind them splintered as bullets ripped it to pieces. A can of nails flew up in the air, raining bits of metal down around them.

Kat shrieked. Pete moved more of his body over her, shielding her head with his arms and tucking her face against his neck. The seconds that passed as the garage was ripped to shreds by flying shrapnel felt like hours.

In the brief lull that followed, Pete muttered, “Holy fuck.”

His weight was a solid force pushing down on her, his breath hot against her skin, but all she could focus on was where she’d gone wrong and how in the name of God they’d been found so fast.

“Are you hit?”

She registered his hands gripping her arms hard, his eyes intense, only inches from her own, boring right into her skull. She glanced down at where he held her, then back up again. Somehow, she was able to shake her head. “No. No, I’m not hit. I…oh, God—”