One Hot Winter's Night (17 page)

He blinked. Her eyes were filled with tears, glistening like windows in the rain, and her bottom lip trembled.

“What’s up?” Had he hurt her somehow? She hadn’t acted as if he had, and she’d controlled the pace and how deep he went inside her.

She bit her lip again. Releasing his hands, she pushed herself upright, pressing shaking fingers to her lips. “I missed you.”

Heath stared as she lifted herself off him. Stunned, he watched her move against the pillows. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she burst into tears.

Chapter 21

He lay there for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, completely floored, at a loss at what to do. If he moved to comfort her, would she push him away?

Sighing, he disposed of the condom and, tucking himself back into his boxers, zipped up his flies. She hadn’t moved and still had her head on her knees, her arms wrapped around them. He lifted the duvet over her and then sat next to her, his back against the pillows. Gently, he put an arm around her. She didn’t move.

“Catherine…”

“I think you should go.” Her voice was muffled, thick with tears.

“I’m not going,” he said firmly.

She pushed herself over the bed to the other side, got up and walked away. She picked up her robe and slipped it on. Her face was wet with tears. “I want you to go, please. This is my room.”

He stood and walked around to face her, hands on hips. “I’m not leaving. You’re going to talk to me about this.”

“Oh don’t be so bloody childish. What’s to talk about? We both got what we wanted, didn’t we?” She dashed the tears from her face impatiently.

He raised an eyebrow. “
I’m
being childish?”

She glowered at him.

He tucked his hands in his pants pockets. “It’s okay to miss me, honey, I missed you too. That’s why I sent you the flowers.”

“You gave me your word you wouldn’t contact me,” she snapped. “That was one of the reasons why I agreed to sleep with you again in Cairo.”

He shrugged. “I lied.”

“Oh, so you admit it?”

“Well, yeah. I only promised no lies in the bedroom, remember?”

She glared at him. “What’s this all about?” She was shaking. “What did you say to Alex exactly?”

“Er…”

“He’s giving me speeches about handing me on and not wanting me to be alone. But although I love him dearly, he’s not my father, and even if he was, he wouldn’t get the final say in my future. I don’t belong to any man, Heath. Never have, never will, you get me?”

Ah.
The crux of the matter. Damn it, why had Alexander told her what they’d talked about?

He held up a hand. “I get you.”

“I’m my own woman. No one’s going to tell me what to do.”

“Patently.”

She was near to tears again. “I’m not interested in a relationship, Heath. Not now, and I never will be. You need to understand that.”

He studied her calmly. Her words hurt, but he wasn’t going to show her how much. “Who said anything about a relationship? I was just after sex, I don’t know about you.”

She met his gaze and then looked away. To his relief, she was fighting back a smile.

He took her hands, relieved when she didn’t pull away. He was going to have to play this carefully. “Listen. Ever hear of the phrase ‘friends with benefits’?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s what we’re going to be. Look, I like you, right?”

She wiped her face and shrugged. “I guess.”

“And I think you like me, a little.”

She sniffed. “A little.”

He smiled. “And we keep meeting up as we zap around the world. Unintentionally.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I like sex.”

She met his gaze. “Apparently.”

“And you like sex, right?”

Her lips curved. “I suppose.”

“Well, then. When we happen to turn up in the same country, and we have a few hours to spare, what’s wrong with having a little sex?”

She looked up at him and swallowed, a light blush appearing on her cheeks. He reached out and brushed them with his thumb. She lifted her chin. “What about the flowers?”

He scratched his head. “A temporary blip. It’s nearly Christmas, and I was feeling romantic. But don’t let that put you off. I’m not going to push you into something you’re not ready for. If you want to walk out that door and never see me again, well, that’s your prerogative. But equally, if, when we’re apart, you miss me, it’s not the end of the world, okay? Friends miss other friends. It happens. No need to panic.” He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed her fingers.

Cat watched him, the swell of panic subsiding slightly inside her stomach. Was he being truthful? And was it possible to have that sort of relationship? The freedom of it appealed to her greatly. If they met, they’d have sex. If not, no ties, no relationship, no responsibility. “So you don’t want this to turn into anything more serious?”

His face was the picture of innocence. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“You just want me for sex,” she confirmed.

“Absolutely.” His lips twitched.

She nodded. “And we wouldn’t be exclusive?”

They studied each other for a moment. The amusement faded from his eyes. She could see the spark of possessiveness in them. He thought that now he’d slept with her, she might be interested in finding out what it was like to sleep with someone else. And he didn’t want her to sleep with other men. Illogically, the thought both warmed and annoyed her at the same time. The fact was that she doubted she’d ever sleep with another man again. But that wasn’t the point.

“You’d be happy with me seeing other women?” His hazel eyes became calm, slightly cool.

She shrugged. Naturally, he’d want to date other women. Talk to them, flirt with them over dinner. Take them back to his place. Kiss them senseless, make love to them in the shower, go down on them until they slid their hands through his beautiful silver hair and begged him to take them.
Oh God.

She dropped her gaze to the floor. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

He put his hands on his hips but didn’t say anything. She glanced up at him, wondering if he’d be angry, but he just looked amused. He still wore his waistcoat and trousers, although his tie was loose and his hair ruffled where she’d raked her fingers through it. Possessiveness stabbed her sharply.
Mine
. She felt an urge to tie him to the headboard and never let him go.

She met his gaze. He studied her with interest.
No lies in the bedroom.
She felt as if she were made of glass—the bastard could see right through her and knew exactly what she was thinking.

But he didn’t mention whatever he saw in her eyes. Instead, he said, “Sure. We’re both free to see whomever we please. It’s only about sex, right?”

“Right.” She was going to keep telling herself that until she believed it.

He nodded. “Okay.” He checked his watch. “Look, it’s only one o’clock. I don’t think they’re announcing the result until four. Do you want to go and have a look around the Terracotta Museum? I haven’t been yet.”

“As friends?” she said impishly.

He sighed and then smiled. “As friends. Sure.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll go back to my room and get changed and meet you in the foyer in, say, fifteen minutes?”

She agreed. He slipped a hand behind her neck. Gently, he kissed her. Then, without another word, he left the room.

Cat dressed, feeling lighter of heart. One day, he would meet someone else and then it would have to stop, she accepted that. But until then, she was happy to have some fun when they happened to meet.

She pulled on jeans, a warm jumper and a jacket, and then popped down to Alexander’s room to make sure he didn’t want to go with them. He’d been before and she wasn’t surprised when he said no. She ignored his smile of pleasure when she told him she was going with Heath.

“As friends,” she told him.

“Of course.”

Sighing, she left him smirking and caught the lift to the foyer.

Heath was already waiting. He wore tight, dark blue jeans, a black wool sweater over a white T-shirt, and a black jacket. Quite possibly, he looked better in casual clothes than he did in his three-piece suit. She thought about the waistcoat. Maybe not. But it was a close thing. She suspected that, whatever he wore, she would find him mouth-wateringly desirable.

They caught a taxi the short distance to the museum and made their way through the exhibition halls of the vast site, studying the Emperor Qin’s breath-taking array of pottery figures with awe. Cat knew that no two figures unearthed so far had the same features or expression, but it was only when she stood at the foot of Pit 1 and looked at the rows and rows of thousands of terracotta soldiers that she fully understood the vastness of the project.

The army of statues obviously fascinated Heath, but it seemed that she captivated him even more, because every time she turned to say something to him she found him studying her, a small smile on his face. He also thought it was greatly amusing that the Chinese tourists kept staring at her and nudging each other. She couldn’t work out why, and he wouldn’t tell her, but when they were strolling through the gardens in front of the museum and a family asked him to take a photograph of Cat with them, he seemed to think it was the funniest thing in the world and chuckled for ages.

“It’s usually
my
hair that draws the attention,” he told her once she’d managed to extricate herself from the group, embarrassed.

“They like my hair?” She touched the blonde locks self-consciously.

“Well, have you ever seen a blonde Chinese woman?” He grinned at her. “Your chest might have had something to do with it as well.”

“My chest? What’s wrong with my chest?”

“Absolutely nothing, sweetheart—it’s just a fair bit larger than the average Chinese female’s.”

She glared at him. The glare turned to a wry grin as she saw the twinkle in his eye. She couldn’t remain cross with him for long, and was enjoying herself too much to be angry.

“Stop staring at me,” she said anyway. “It makes me nervous.”

He laughed. “All right. Just until we leave the site though. There’s enough here to hold my attention for thirty minutes. After that, there’ll be no holding me back.”

So they wandered around more exhibits for half an hour, and true to his world he studied the artefacts, comparing them to other relics displayed at Te Papa or that he’d seen elsewhere. They had a lengthy discussion about whether the arrowheads were better than the ones discovered at Maiden Castle in Dorset, and debated the best preservation technique for bronze objects. He argued his case vehemently, citing various methods he’d seen used and challenging her to come up with a better answer, which kind of made her swoon. Most men found her interest in dead people’s things dull and boring. Heath seemed to revel in it.

She studied him as he bent to look at a restored stone helmet. He turned his head to look at her, straightening as he saw her watching him. He raised an eyebrow, his hazel eyes alight with amusement. “What?”

“Nothing.” She couldn’t put her feelings into words. “I’m glad we’re friends,” was the closest she could manage.

He looked at her for a moment. Then, in the middle of the museum, surrounded by Chinese tourists who now watched them wide-eyed, he bent his head and kissed her. He didn’t say anything else—he didn’t need to. The kiss said it all.

Chapter 22

After they’d finished at the museum, they returned to the hotel and made their way to the business centre to await the decision on where the new display of Terracotta Warriors was going to visit first. The announcement came only half an hour later, and she wasn’t shocked to find out it was the British Museum. She gave Heath a triumphant grin. He gave her a look that told her she was going to regret her bragging when he finally got her back to the bedroom.

She wasn’t to be disappointed. Heath made a lame excuse to Alexander, something about needing to talk to her about cooling temperatures, and he practically dragged her back to her room, where he proceeded to take a long and leisurely hour proving just how friendly they were.

“Wow,” she said afterward. “You just keep getting better and better.”

“By 2015 I’ll be phenomenal,” he said, straight-faced. “And we’ll be really,
really
good friends.”

She met his gaze for a moment and then looked away. By then he would have met someone else, a woman who wasn’t afraid of being in a relationship, who would be excited to date him properly, get married, have kids. Cat shivered. She didn’t want to think about the future. It made her head hurt.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose you’d consider coming to dinner with me this evening?”

“I promised Alex I’d meet him at eight.” She knew her voice was defensive.

“Okay. All I will say is: six left.” He picked up the packet of condoms and waggled it at her before placing it in his pocket.

She started to laugh. He was hopeless. “There’s no stopping you, is there? Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Nope. I seem to have a limitless libido where you’re involved.” He sighed. “Looks like I’ll be having another flute solo this evening.” He started to get dressed.

The thought of him pleasuring himself while he thought of her made her heart race. He turned back, and she realised she was staring at his crotch. Her cheeks red hot, she looked up guiltily. Had he guessed what she was thinking?

His gaze was volcanic.
Yes, he had.
He put his hands on his hips. “Now that’s extremely unfair.”

She clutched the duvet to her. How come they’d just had sex and she wanted to jump him again? “Come to dinner with me and Alex,” she said, surprising herself.

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think he’d be too pleased with that suggestion.”

“He’ll be fine. He’s only protective of me. It’ll do him good to be tortured a bit.”

He grinned. “Okay. I think he deserves it after the penguin episode.”

She picked up the penguin and kissed its nose. “Actually I’m thrilled with little Foxy here.”

“Foxy?”

“A penguin called Fox. I thought your sense of irony would like that.”

He picked up his glasses. “I don’t think Mr Fox is keen to be compared to a stuffed toy.”