One Hot Winter's Night (22 page)

She rested her head on his shoulder, and he kissed her ear as their heartbeats gradually slowed.

“Can we go in now?” His voice was filled with amusement.

She giggled. “I’m sorry. My hormones got the better of me.”

“I noticed.” He stroked her cheek. “You little minx. You know I can’t resist you.”

So he was admitting he’d tried. She levered herself off him and managed to slip back into the passenger seat. “Will you come in? For a cup of coffee.”

“Okay.”

Thank goodness he’d agreed to stay—she’d worried he’d drive off as soon as they were done. She led him into the cabin, which was small but beautifully decorated in dark green and cream furnishings, with local paintings on the walls. She put the kettle on while he stood looking out of the window across the orchard. He glanced over his shoulder as she took two mugs and began to make the coffee. “There’s a kiwi out there,” he said. “You can hear it crying.”

“Crying?” She listened, and then heard the mournful wail echo through the darkness. “Oh, that’s so sad.”

“It’s okay, it’s not sad. It’s a mating call. Little bugger’s feeling horny.”

She laughed and poured the hot water in. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

“Yes.
Catherine
.”

She brought his cup over to him. “I was talking about you,
Heathcliff
.”

“Me? I was just driving the car.” He gave her an exasperated look.

She grinned. “Point taken. But I’m glad you gave in.” She took his hand. “Wanna come lie on the bed?
The Mummy
has just started on Sky TV.”

“I love that film.”

“I knew you would.” She smiled and pulled him toward the bedroom.

Chapter 28

Heath followed her reluctantly.
This is a mistake
. His brain thought it, but his heart wouldn’t agree. So he let her lead him to the bed, and he stretched out, welcoming her into his arms, and they cuddled up to watch the film.

His mind was only half on it, however. He’d spent the last few days thinking of ways to get her to accept that she missed him when they weren’t together. He’d phoned her so often that Alex had started to answer the phone with a “Hello, Heath”. But it hadn’t worked. She’d refused to talk to him and had returned his presents. Alex had been right—she’d decided she didn’t want a relationship, and she wasn’t going to give in.

So where did that leave him? If she refused to do anything other than have sex when they met, what did that mean for the long term? As much as he loved sex, Heath wasn’t the sort of guy to sleep with a dozen different women and then forget about them as soon as they left. When he committed himself, he did it with all his heart.

He wasn’t used to this. Having to fight so hard for what he wanted. Usually once he set his mind on something—whether it was a woman or an artefact—it would be in his possession within days, weeks at the most. But this woman left him flummoxed. She whisked precious treasures from beneath his nose, and she was refusing to be seduced into a relationship. He couldn’t make the girl love him, or force her to spend time with him. He was starting to realise that she was calling the shots—and he didn’t like it one bit.

Turning to get his coffee, he stared at the bedside table and picked up the tiny penguin sitting next to her clock. “What’s he doing here?” he asked, amused.

“Foxy insisted on coming.” She kissed it and put it on her side of the bed.

He sighed. He knew she was on the way to loving him. Everything she did told him that, except the words from her mouth. But that was the most important part. And what was the point in loving someone if you wouldn’t let yourself be with them? Okay, so it was early days and maybe if they continued like this for a while, she’d come around to the idea. But something told him she wouldn’t. Whatever had happened when she was younger had prejudiced her against relationships. She was never going to want to settle down, to have a family, a proper home life. And he wanted those things. He wanted a wife, kids, a family home. He was thirty now, and while it was hardly old, he wasn’t exactly a teenager either. He was ready for commitment, for stability. And Cat wasn’t.

As the film drew to a close, he sat up and swung his legs over the bed. “I really should go.”

She got up swiftly and walked around in front of him to catch his hands. “Oh no you don’t. There’s something I’ve been planning since China. For the next time we met.”

“Oh?” He didn’t want to know. But he couldn’t stop himself pausing to find out. He was so weak. He hated himself.

She knelt between his legs and gave him a wicked smile. “This was the next fantasy on my list.” She started to undo the zipper on his shorts again.

He stared at her. “Catherine…”

“I’ve been dreaming about it for weeks. I haven’t been able to get the idea of it out of my head.” She licked her lips and studied his erection, which had miraculously sprung to life again. “I’ve not done it before, Heath. I didn’t think I’d ever want to. But thought of taking you in my mouth, tasting you…”

He leaned back on his hands. “Oh, Jesus.” What man would be able to say no to that?

She closed her hand around him. “Tell me what you like.”

He sighed. Then he reached out and touched her hair. “Anything you do is fine by me, sweetheart.”

“That’s not very helpful,” she said wryly. “Tell me if I’m cold, warm or hot, at least.” She sent him a sexy glance that made his blood boil. Then she closed her lips over him. Sliding them down his erection, she took him deep inside the warm cavern of her mouth.

Exquisite sensations overwhelmed him and he tipped his head back and gasped. “Oh jeez, red hot.”

She gave a little laugh, and then she gave herself over to pleasuring him, her tongue velvety smooth, licking and sucking and driving him to the edge of ecstasy.

He bore it for as long as was humanly possible, but she was too beautiful, her mouth too hot, to go on for long.
Damn it
. He wanted to make it last, but after only a few minutes he was close to climaxing and he couldn’t hold out for much longer. Her blonde hair brushing his thighs tortured him physically and visually, and the sight of her lips around him could have made him come on its own. Combined with the sensation of being inside her hot mouth… Oh dear God, did she know what she was doing to him?

“Catherine…” He was having trouble holding back long enough to form the words, but he had to tell her. He warned her huskily, “I’m going to come,” expecting her to lift her head. To his shock, however, she just gave a murmur of approval and took him deeper inside, swallowing him whole, and that was it, everything tightened, and he erupted into her mouth. Unable to believe what she was doing, he cried out and clenched his hand in her hair, his head tipping back as emotion and sensation washed over him.

Afterward, she wiped her thumb and finger slowly from the corners of her mouth to the middle of her lower lip. “Now every time I lick my lips in public,” she giggled, “you’ll know what I’m thinking about.”

Heath didn’t say anything. He just looked at her, blinking, slightly dazed. She frowned, concerned.

“Are you okay?” She touched his hand. “Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?”

He shook his head, but still didn’t speak. He lay back on the bed and covered his face with his hands, and then ran them through his hair.

He felt completely overwhelmed. He’d been with his share of women, and only a small proportion of them had enjoyed performing oral sex. Some of those hadn’t liked him coming in their mouth—a couple of others had politely used a tissue afterward. He didn’t mind particularly, but he’d rather they didn’t bother if they didn’t enjoy it. But Cat made him feel sexy and gorgeous and wanted—which was completely ironic because she was the one person not interested in him, not really.

She smiled and came to sit beside him, and stroked his cheek. “You’re so sweet, sometimes. I love you.”

The words obviously came out before she could stop them. Clearly, she hadn’t even known she was going to say them. He didn’t know who was most surprised, her or him.

He stared at her. “What?”

Her eyes widened. “Shit. Sorry. That kind of slipped out.” She met his gaze for a moment and then looked away, standing up.

Quickly zipping himself up, he stood and caught her hand as she went to walk into the lounge. “Catherine…”

“It didn’t mean anything.” Her voice was hard. “It was a slip of the tongue. Don’t get all romantic on me.”

He gave a harsh laugh. “You’re incredible. You’ve just told me you love me, but you still won’t admit it to yourself.”

She went scarlet. “What are you talking about? This isn’t love. We’re just having sex.”

“Bullshit.” He was angry now. “I know I haven’t said it but I’ve tried to show you, and I’ll say it now. I love you, Catherine.”

The colour faded from her face as quickly as it had come. “Don’t. You don’t love me. You can’t—we’ve met less than half a dozen times.”

“Ever heard of love at first sight?”

“Don’t mock me,” she snapped.

“I’m not.” He fixed her with a firm stare. “I’m crazy about you. I love you, and I know you feel the same way about me.”

Her eyes turned steely. “Don’t tell me what I do or don’t feel. I don’t love you. You’re convenient. We’re using each other for physical relief, that’s all.”

Hurt made him catch his breath.

He shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “I don’t want this.”

She glared at him. “This what?”

“This.” He gestured around him. “Having sex and then not knowing when I’m going to see you again. Not knowing who you’re with, what you’re doing. Having you pretend you don’t have feelings for me. I can’t do it, Catherine. I won’t do it.”

“Some guys would kill for this,” she said angrily. “For hot sex with absolutely no commitment.”

“Maybe. But I’m not one of them.” He saw the pain on her face and sighed, his anger fading. He reached out and touched her cheek. “I’m in love with you. It’s early days, and if I’m very careful, I might be able to haul myself back from the edge. But I can’t carry on like this. I’m just going to fall for you further. And it’s killing me.”

He hesitated and took her hand. “Tell me you love me again, and mean it. Tell me you don’t want me to go—that you know we’re meant to be together. That you want to at least try to make it work.” He slipped a hand into her hair. “I want to marry you, Catherine. Share a house with you. Have babies with you. Look after you, bring you home to meet my family, grow old with you. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Her eyes were bright green, shining in the semi-darkness. She shook her head, and his heart sank. “That life’s not for me,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. I can’t give you what you want.”

“Why not?” He was so frustrated he could have torn the cabin down with his bare hands. “What’s your big secret? Tell me! Tell me why you ran away from home, what happened to you that was so bad you can’t bear to think of letting any man get close?”

“I told you in China, Heath, I’m damaged goods.” A tear ran down her face. “I told you not to fall for me.”

“I can’t help it. I love you.” He wiped her tear away with his thumb. “Don’t you trust me?”

“More than I’ve ever trusted anyone,” she said brokenly.

He bit his lip. “But not enough.”

Another tear spilled out. “I just can’t.”

He pulled her into his arms. “And I can’t make do with pieces of you. It’s not enough for me.”

“I understand.”

He rested his forehead on hers. “I don’t want this to be over.”

She nodded, tears flowing freely. “But it sounds like it kind of is.”

Even then, she wouldn’t fold, wouldn’t admit she needed him. Heath wanted to bawl like a girl, to scream like a toddler, but he didn’t. He kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment. Then he walked out. He got into the car, started the engine, and reversed out of the drive.

By nine o’clock the next morning, Cat was walking down to the local coffee shop where she had agreed to meet the son of a local Maori
kaumatua
, or elder. She’d told Heath when they were at the bar the night before that her appointment was at 1pm, and he’d told her his was the same time, and they’d realised that the young Maori was clearly hoping to play them off one against the other. That morning, however, she’d rung Rapine and asked to meet him earlier, hoping to conclude the deal and get out of Kerikeri before Heath realised what was going on. If she was going to end up without him, she might as well have the weapons to cheer herself up.

She tried to tell herself that a suitcase full of ancient weapons was going to be a suitable substitute for sex with a gorgeous archaeologist, and almost believed it, until she thought about the look in his eyes as he’d kissed her before he’d left.

But she wasn’t going to think about that. She’d spent all night playing it over in her head without coming to a different conclusion. He deserved better than her—he needed a woman willing to settle down and provide him with the things she couldn’t. She’d done the right thing by forcing him to end it. Trying to carry it on, persuading him to sleep with her when they met up—it wasn’t fair to him. Even if she did miss him terribly.

She shook her head, concentrating on the bright Kiwi sunshine and the smell of coffee emanating from the cafe ahead of her and trying to ignore her misery. She adored the espresso coffee the New Zealanders made, with steamed milk and just the right amount of foam on the top, usually with a little fern drawn on the surface. She was in the mood for coffee. Possibly with a slug of brandy.

Then she saw the car outside the shop. It was Heath’s rental. A rather beaten up car was parked in front of it, and beside it stood Heath and a Maori guy that she presumed was Rapine. The Maori guy must have called Heath and told him she’d asked to meet earlier.

Heath looked over his shoulder as she approached. Their gazes met briefly before he looked back at Rapine.

The Maori guy was young and looked nervous. She could understand why. Heath was glowering, hands on hips, towering over the slighter, shorter Maori lad.

“
Kia ora
,” she said, walking up to him. “You must be Rapine—I’m Dr Cat Livingstone. We spoke on the phone.”