Stolen Heat Read online

  Her skin warmed. She imagined him behind the wheel of that wicked car, tanned and sleek and sexy, the wind ruffling his hair as he rocketed down the highway. The image, combined with the intense way he was watching her, made her mouth go dry. “Being safe is important.”

  “It is. But it’s not near the adrenaline rush.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And it’ll never be as satisfying.”

  That tingling slid lower, into her belly. Lower still. She swallowed and forced herself to speak. “It’s just a car.”

  His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips in a move that sent those tingling sensations shooting straight between Kat’s thighs and reminded her of the thousands of times he’d looked at her like that in the past. “Men do love their cars.”

  “Of course,” he added in that same husky timbre that made her remember steamy sex and sweaty bodies and long iniquitous nights, “sometimes all it takes is one test drive to know what you like.”

  And what you don’t. The unspoken words were reflected clearly in his fathomless eyes.

  “Maybe once isn’t enough,” she heard herself say before she could stop the words spilling from her mouth. “Maybe sometimes it takes more than once to know what you need.”

  “Maybe.”

  The air crackled between them. His gaze held hers, a thousand questions brewing in those stormy pools. And her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Though she knew it was foolish, she expected him to move forward, to touch her, to drag her close and kiss her like he had in Marty’s garage.

  She waited for all that to happen, and some insane part of her wanted it, no matter what she knew to be true about him.

  Then a muscle in his jaw tightened, and he looked away. And the spell he’d just woven around her broke like ice shattering against hard, cold cement.

  “Maybe,” he said again. “But I doubt it.”

  A breath Kat hadn’t realized she’d been holding rushed out of her like a balloon being deflated.

  He shifted the backpack on his shoulder before she realized he was taking it with him and walked around the car. “I’ll meet you in the back lot in five minutes.”

  Then he climbed in the old Pathfinder and pulled away from the building.

  Standing there in the frigid breeze, Kat remembered when he’d looked at her like that in Cairo. Like he still wanted her but didn’t know what to do about it. Like nothing between them would ever be the same.

  Because it hadn’t been. That day, in her apartment, everything had changed between them. She knew now that had been the beginning of the end.

  She let out a long breath and turned for the back lot. He was stirring up feelings and memories she’d buried long ago. And she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to deal with them all. Not now. Not with him so close.

  She prayed in a matter of hours, she wouldn’t have to deal with them ever again.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Six years earlier

  Cairo

  “Thanks for meeting me on such short notice. I know you’re busy.”

  “Never too busy for you, Kat. You know that.” Martin Slade pulled the chair out for Kat and waited while she sat at the small bistro corner table. Outside on the street, cars honked and jockeyed for space amongst industrial trucks spewing exhaust and donkey-drawn carts darting through traffic. Inside, the predominantly European clientele clinked cups and saucers amidst a steady hum of chatter and afternoon caffeine.

  “I just wish I had more to tell you,” Marty said as he moved around the table and sat down.

  Kat set her purse on the floor and waited as a waitress came and took their order. As Marty was speaking with the young girl, Kat’s eyes moved over this man she’d once been intimate with. Funny, but she didn’t feel anything for him now except friendship.

  It’d been several months since she’d seen him, but he looked good, albeit tired. Then again, Marty always looked tired. It was as much a part of him as were those broad shoulders and that solid frame and the secrecy that hung around him like cologne. Today he wore a white button-down and a pair of black slacks that accentuated his toned body. His dark hair was longer than she remembered, but still stylish and well-kept as it set off his dark eyes and what looked to be a day’s worth of stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave.

  He was an attractive man. One she’d been interested in, but never head-over-heels about. Not like she was with Pete.

  Her heart turned over at just the thought of Pete. It’d been six months since their first night at the Mena House. Since then he’d come and gone from her life, never with any warning or regularity. Weeks would go by where she didn’t see him, days between phone calls when she had no idea where he was or what he was doing. She’d imagine the worst, tell herself this crazy relationship wouldn’t last because there were so many things left unsaid and unexplained between them, but then he’d magically appear on her doorstep, and all her rational thoughts would slip away.

  When they were together, all she could see and feel was him. And she knew he felt the same. It was in his eyes every time he touched her, every time he kissed her. Every time he sank his body deep into hers and held her close. He’d never told her he loved her, but she didn’t need the words to know what was in his heart. She felt it.

  And that knowledge made everything else so much harder to bear.

  She knew very little about his business, about what he did when he was gone. She’d asked, of course, time and again, but each time he’d sidestepped her questions by telling her he was working on something important for the future and that he didn’t want to waste their moments talking about work when there were other things more important to do.

  His aversion to letting her into such a large part of his life hurt, but she never pushed him. He was right, their time together was already so limited, she didn’t want to do anything to tarnish it. Now, though, sitting across from Marty, she knew she was fooling herself. Sawil had already warned her.

  As the waitress moved away, Marty’s eyes resettled on hers. The closest table was too far away for anyone to overhear their conversation, but he spoke in a low voice anyway. “A couple of the pieces you described to me showed up in a gallery in Turkey.”

  Kat closed her eyes. Pete had called from Istanbul last week.

  “Turkish officials are working with the Supreme Council of Antiquities to return them to Egypt. No one’s talking about how they got there.”

  Kat looked up at the mention of the SCA. “You have a hunch, though, right?”

  “Technically, Kat, I’m not even supposed to be talking about this since it’s not my area. I passed on what you told me, but I’m only here out of courtesy given our friendship.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it. I just didn’t know what else to do. I told Sawil about my suspicions, and he talked to Dr. Latham about it, but so far the SCA hasn’t done diddly.”

  What she didn’t say was that Sawil had warned her about Pete the night she’d gone to talk to him. When she wouldn’t let the subject drop after Sawil’s repeated attempts to tell her to just let it go, he’d finally admitted he suspected the trouble at their tomb and Pete’s appearance in Kat’s life were too close to be a coincidence. He’d argued Pete was an antiquities dealer. Even if he didn’t work on the shady side, he knew people who did. He had to.

  She’d told Sawil he was crazy, that Pete would never be involved in something like that, but some small part of her had been knocked off kilter by the accusation.

  Because there were too many things she just didn’t know about Pete. And even now, sitting across from Marty, she remembered the way Pete had checked out her tomb during those first few tours, not like a tourist, or a man who was simply pursuing a romantic interest, but like he was after something special.

  She supposed that was why she’d called Marty. So he could reassure her Pete was clean and someone else was responsible for the thefts.

  This news didn’t help.

  “Did Latham increase security around the tomb?”
>
  “Yes,” she said. “But if what you just told me is true, it doesn’t matter. Someone’s getting in anyway.”

  His lips thinned. “This isn’t a U.S. matter, Kat. The SCA’s closed-lipped. They like to handle things from within.”

  Her shoulders slumped.

  “If you have evidence, that’s another matter. But my suggestion now would be to file a report with the SCA yourself. Even though Latham’s handling it, if more people come forward you might see an increased response from the SCA.”

  She nodded, knowing he was right.

  Their coffees were served, and they managed to talk about the more positive aspects of her excavation instead of the missing relics.

  As dusk settled in, Marty walked her back to her flat, four blocks away. She felt no better than when she’d left to meet him. She still had a thousand questions, and she desperately wanted to see Pete to have these insane doubts put to rest. She hadn’t talked to him in a week, and every day that passed without word made Sawil’s warning that much more ominous.

  They turned the corner onto her block, and Kat’s heart rate increased as she looked toward her building. Pete rose from the steps where he’d been sitting, waiting for her. A duffel bag sat at his feet, and his hair was mussed. His rumpled blue shirt and worn jeans looked like he’d slept in them.

  But it was his face she focused on as she approached. Exhaustion lines marred his skin, making her wonder when he’d slept last. She picked up her pace to close the distance between them, only to falter when she saw the dark and chilling look in his eyes as he glanced between her and Marty.

  He didn’t move toward her, just watched her with narrowed eyes.

  “Pete,” she said when she was only a few feet away. She eased in to hug him, and he returned the brief contact, but it was stilted and reserved, not the hot-blooded greeting he usually gave her with his mouth and tongue and teeth. Her stomach tightened, and in the obvious tension between them, a little of her doubt solidified into place. “What are you doing here?”

  “I had a layover. Thought I’d surprise you.” His voice was hard and unfriendly, and his eyes skipped right over her to land on Marty. “You obviously had other plans.”

  Her pulse pounded as she turned toward Marty. “Um. This is Martin Slade. Marty, this is Peter Kauffman. My, uh, friend.”

  “Last time I checked,” Pete corrected in that same hard tone, “we were a lot more than friends.”

  Kat’s face heated.

  Marty glanced from Pete to Kat and back again, then held out his hand. “Nice to meet you. Kat and I were just chatting about her work site.”

  Pete didn’t answer, and he didn’t return Marty’s handshake. In his hard eyes there was no mistaking the warning: hands off.

  Guilt for something she hadn’t done quickly morphed to frustration. He was the one who left her for weeks at a time without word and was then upset when she had friends? Six months of not knowing where he was or what he was doing or when he’d be back compounded and transformed into anger.

  Marty dropped his hand and looked between the two of them, obviously sensing the strain. “I’m going to take off, Kat. If anything else comes up, let me know, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  She smiled for his benefit, though she felt her cheeks crack with the effort. “Thanks, Marty. I will.”

  Kat waited until Marty headed up the street and disappeared around the corner. When she turned toward Pete she could practically feel the animosity radiating from him. “That was a little childish, don’t you think?”

  She pushed past him and moved up the steps of her building.

  “I don’t know. You tell me.” He jerked his bag from the ground and followed close at her heels.

  “If you expect me to apologize for having coffee with him, you’re high.” The main door snapped shut behind them as she headed up the narrow flight of stairs to the second floor.

  “Why would I expect you to apologize?” he asked coldly at her back.

  She ignored his question as she shoved her key in the door lock, twisted and moved inside, seething the whole time. Thankfully, Shannon was out for the afternoon.

  Dammit, he had no right to be upset with her. None at all. She tossed her purse onto the couch as he came in behind her and pushed the door shut. His bag dropped to the ground in the entry, but he made no move to come farther into the apartment. “When did you get here?” she demanded.

  “Two hours ago.”

  Oh, geez. He’d been sitting on her stoop in that wretched heat for two hours? No wonder he was pissed. “If you’d told me you were coming I would have—”

  “Is this a normal thing for you? Running off to meet your ex when I’m not around?”

  Shock rippled through her. “Of course not. I haven’t seen him in months.”

  His hard eyes screamed he didn’t believe her. “Why’d you rush off to meet him today? I did interpret that right, didn’t I? You were the one who called him?”

  Kat’s heart stilled. There it was. The accusation she’d expected. He didn’t trust her. And the irony in that one thought hit her right beneath the breastbone until even drawing a breath hurt.

  “Yes. But only because I wanted to talk to him. Nothing else happened. I’m not interested in him anymore. And he’s not interested in me.”

  “Right,” Pete scoffed and rested his hands on his hips. “Talk to him about what?”

  “About…” She faltered. “About the missing pieces at my tomb. I thought maybe he could use his contacts and find out what’s going on.”

  “Let me guess. He doesn’t have a fucking clue.”

  Why did he sound so sure of himself? She’d tried to talk to him about what was happening at her tomb a few times, but he’d always brushed it aside, just like he did whenever their conversation turned toward work for either of them. What if he knew what was happening there? Was he hiding something?

  Sawil’s warnings came back to her in the silence between them, coupled with the unknowns about Pete and his aversion to letting her into his life.

  “How did you know?” she asked quietly.

  His shoulders tensed. Something very much like disbelief raced across his face, then settled into his eyes as disgust. “Why don’t you just ask me what you really want to know?”

  She swallowed hard as dread unfurled in her stomach. A tiny voice screamed, don’t do it! But she had to. She couldn’t stand the secrecy between them anymore. And more than anything, she needed to hear his innocence from his own lips. “Did you have anything to do with those missing artifacts in my tomb?”

  She regretted the words the moment they were out. His stormy eyes hardened, and the light she always saw there when he looked at her darkened.

  His mouth barely moved when he spoke. “You think I had something to do with that?”

  “No.” Yes! “I don’t know.” She lifted her arms, dropped them. “There’s just so much going on and so much I don’t even know about you. Every time I try to talk to you about it you clam up. I just want you to open up to me and tell me the truth.”

  “You’re not going to believe me no matter the answer, so why bother?”

  “Yes, I will,” she said quickly. She wanted to touch him, but more urgent was the need to hear his answer.

  His eyes blazed into hers. An eternity seemed to pass. The air in the apartment grew hot and stifling. For a moment she wished he’d lash out at her, just give her some indication this mattered to him, but he didn’t. He didn’t even move.

  “No,” he finally said. “I didn’t have anything to do with those missing relics.”

  Her relief was swift and consuming, and she moved toward him, desperate to have his arms around her, only to stop when she saw the warning flash in his eyes. He reached down and snatched his bag from the floor. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m outta here.”

  Panic set in. “Wait. Pete, let’s talk about this.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. You just told me eve
rything I need to know.” He jerked the door open and left.

  Kat stood in the middle of her living room as his receding footsteps pounded on the steps in the hall. A sick feeling settled in her stomach as her heart hammered against her ribs.

  What had she just done? She’d let her aggravation over the scene with Marty, her fear over where her relationship with Pete was headed and her worries over everything happening at the tomb sway what she knew about Pete deep in her heart.

  The hundreds of ways he’d loved her over the past six months flashed before her eyes, the whispered promises late at night and the tenderness in his eyes when he looked at her. Her heart cracked wide open.

  She loved him. If she hadn’t known it before, she knew it now. She loved him, and she was losing him.

  She tore out of the apartment and down the stairs. Her hands shook as she pushed the heavy front door to the building open and paused on the top step, breathing heavily, searching up and down the sweltering street for him. Please don’t let him be gone yet.

  She couldn’t see him. A Muslim family crossed in front of her building. A garbage truck burped out exhaust as it ambled down the street. A man sped by on a bike.

  Where was he? Please God…

  Then she spotted him, a block up with his bag over his shoulder and his head down, striding away from her.

  “Pete!”

  He turned sharply at the sound of her voice, and she didn’t even hesitate. She threw herself into his arms, wrapped herself around him and held on tight.

  “Don’t go. Not like this. Please.” A sob caught in her throat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave.”

  He hesitated, and for a frightening moment she thought he was going to push her away. Then his bag hit the concrete, and his arms wrapped tight around her until his embrace squeezed the air out of her lungs.

  “Dammit, Kit-Kat.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek as his mouth crushed over hers, hard and possessive and bruising in its demand. She returned the kiss with everything she had in her.

  Somehow they made it back to her flat where they made love with an urgency that bordered on the violent. When it was over, they lay sweaty and breathless in the bed they’d shared so many times she’d lost track. But this time was different. Though they were skin to skin and his arms were around her, Kat felt the distance between them as wide as the ocean that normally separated their continents.