One Hot Winter's Night (3 page)

His lips twitched at her words, but he was kind enough not to laugh aloud. He released her as she made herself comfortable on the bench. “So, Julia, what areas did you specialize in at university?”

Hmm. She mustn’t drop her guard. She was going to have to be on her toes this evening to make sure she didn’t give her identity away. Equally, sometimes it paid to be honest to save getting yourself caught up in your lies. “Medieval Europe. Particularly early medieval. Anglo-Saxon, Merovingian, Carolingian, Viking, that sort of thing. You?”

“The same, actually, for my undergrad. My MA and Doctorate are more process-based, you know, excavation techniques and preservation of artefacts, although I did do a detailed study on New Zealand archaeology.”

“Do they have any?” she teased, aware the country was one of the most recently populated areas in the world.

He grinned. “We study the arrival of the first Maori, and the early European settlers of the nineteenth century.”

“So you’re a Kiwi, not an Aussie?”

“Yep. Wellington born and bred.”

“Oh. Do you work there?” The perfect opportunity to find out more about her arch-enemy.

“Yes. I have the very posh title of Head of Acquisitions at Te Papa Tongarewa—that’s the Museum of New Zealand. They’re trying to broaden their range of archaeological pieces, and they hired me to source new artefacts and design displays. It basically means I get to be Indiana Jones and hunt down national treasures.”

“Sounds like a dream job.” Inwardly she cursed the museum and all its employees.

He shrugged, smiling. “It’s pretty cool. What are you going to do—do you have a job lined up?”

“Not yet. I’m going to travel for a while, maybe go on a few digs, get some experience.” It was degrading having to pretend she was an absolute beginner when her list of excavations would make his eyes pop out of his head, but she suppressed her irritation, reminding herself she was only playing a part.

She shifted in her seat, wishing she didn’t have to wear the blasted snowsuit—it made it very difficult to utilize her body for seduction purposes. Normally she would be leaning forward by now, pressing her breasts together and giving him a view down her cleavage. Not exactly a sophisticated move, but it usually worked. But Heath would be lucky to see the shape of her figure beneath the padded suit. She would have to rely on sparkling dialogue to seduce him.

Sexy talk wasn’t exactly her strong point.

Still, she had a couple of moves up her sleeve. She turned a little toward him in the seat, sipping her cocktail. His gaze drifted to her lips and, after swallowing the mouthful of liquid, she licked them. He blinked slowly, his gaze lingering for a moment before returning to hers. She hid a smirk. Poor fool. Did he have any idea she was in complete control of his libido at that moment?

Heath studied her as she began to list some of the archaeological sites she’d been to. She was an enigma, this one. When he’d first started talking to her, she’d given the impression of being fresh out of university, which would put her at around twenty-one or two. But as the moments ticked by, he became certain she was older, maybe not so far from his own age. Not that he could tell physically—her skin shone smooth and clear, her blonde hair showed no signs of grey, and her teasing manner and wit appealed to his sense of fun. She had a light laugh, and her dancing eyes showed her enthusiasm for life.

But there was something about her manner, her confidence, which convinced him she was older. He wondered briefly if her wide-eyed innocent look were an act. No, surely not. She may be older, but the flush that appeared in her cheeks from time to time when he teased her convinced him she wasn’t used to being chatted up like this.

She’d started their conversation quite reserved, although now they were talking about archaeology her face lightened and her eyes began to sparkle. She was a lot more knowledgeable than most newly graduated students he’d met. If she was older than she appeared at first, it meant either she’d gone to college as a mature student or she’d graduated a lot longer ago than she’d implied.

Not that either option mattered. It made her intriguing. He was interested in her, and not only in what lay beneath the padded snowsuit. But he hadn’t forgotten his original plan to find himself a little entertainment for the night.

His gaze kept drifting to her lips, which looked soft and pink, practically asking him to kiss them. She looked like the sort of girl you’d take home to meet your mother, although he was sure he’d spotted an interested sparkle in her eyes. Was she the type who indulged in one-night stands? Possibly not, and he was worried about making a move and insulting her. He was surprised at the disappointment that swept through him.

“So what’s your favourite archaeological period?” she was asking him now.

He mentioned the Palaeolithic, and she started talking about the human remains at Boxgrove in West Sussex in England, and for a while he actually forgot he was trying to chat her up and just enjoyed the intelligent conversation with a like-minded person.

They talked archaeology for over an hour, gradually moving on to their second and third cocktails, growing more relaxed in each other’s company as the alcohol began to have an effect and the hour grew late.

“I wanted to love the Tower of London,” he admitted, “but it had no atmosphere—it kind of spoiled it for me.”

“Too many tourists,” she said sadly, leaning her head on her hand.

“Still, Traitor’s Gate was cool.”

She nodded. “Must have been cooler when all the stakes out the front were full of dripping skulls.”

“Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘giving head’.”

Her eyebrows rose, and he realised what he’d said.
Oops
. That had sort of slipped out. It would be a good test though. He sipped his drink as he waited for her reaction. If she looked insulted, he would know this evening was going to end with a kiss on the cheek before they parted to go their separate ways. But if not…

Cat stared, shocked. They’d been so caught up in their debate about archaeology, she’d relaxed and had almost forgotten why she’d come to the hotel.

She forced herself to concentrate on why she was there. He’d made the first sexual reference of the evening, but that was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? She ignored the sweep of disappointment that the evening was drawing to an end. Yes, it had been fun to talk to him about archaeology, but like most men, he was obviously only after one thing

So come on then, Cat. Do you really have no idea how to get him to invite you to his room?

A flutter of unease spread through her. She was going to have to pretend she wanted to go to bed with him.
Eek
. Now she was really getting out of her depth.

As she met his hazel eyes, however, she couldn’t look away. In spite of everything he’d done to her over the past few months, beating her to artefacts she’d been desperate to get and being so infuriatingly elusive, her heart rate increased, and her cheeks grew hot at the desire in his eyes. His lips curved, and automatically she smiled in response as something passed between them, something invisible, chemical, electric.

Confused, she looked at her ice glass, studying the blue vodka cocktail. What was going on here? This had never happened to her before.

Cat’s love life was non-existent. A turbulent childhood, chaotic teenage years and a strangely sheltered early adult life had left her uneasy about men and hesitant to get involved in a relationship. And the longer time went by, the more difficult it became to open up to a man.

She looked back up at Heath. He was studying her quietly, seemingly content to let her deal with her thoughts. Of course, men had looked at her with desire before. And yet… Heath couldn’t even see her body, and hadn’t had a glimpse of her cleavage. But still that look had passed between them—the zap of electricity that showed he wanted her.

For a brief moment, she imagined letting this gorgeous man take her in his arms and make love to her. She liked him. He was warm and funny, and he looked at her as if he wanted her more than the damn necklace. What would he be like in bed?

Although she’d used her femininity on more than one occasion when she needed something, her one attempt at sex had ended in disaster before they really got going, so she wasn’t quite sure what it would be like to sleep with a guy. She’d read romance novels though, and watched romantic films. In those, the men always lit the women up like fireworks. How would that feel?

Heath smiled. She’d been staring at him as if he’d told her she’d won a million dollars. Her cheeks grew hot, and she finished off her cocktail, embarrassed. What was she thinking? This was the Silver Fox—the enemy who’d driven her mad on so many occasions. A man who was happy to take a woman to bed on the night he met her. She hadn’t planned on giving her virginity to anyone, and she absolutely was not considering giving it to this scoundrel.

She had to focus on the mission and the goal—the necklace. Everything else, including his warm hazel eyes and beautiful silver hair, was immaterial.

Chapter 4

Heath watched the gorgeous blonde struggle with some inner dilemma. She fascinated him. He sensed deep emotion beneath the surface, an ocean of feelings whirling inside her that he would have been interested to dive into and uncover. What a shame tomorrow he’d be gone.

Suddenly she looked up at him again, and her hesitation had vanished, to be replaced by something that glittered in her silvery-green eyes. Desire? Determination? She shifted in her seat, moving closer to him, tucking a leg under to give herself height. Before he could move, she leaned across him and pressed her cool mouth against his.

Taken by surprise, Heath remained still, one hand holding his glass, the other arm stretched out along the back of the seat, and let her kiss him. She did so slowly, moving her lips gently, her eyes not quite closed. His blood surged as if she’d given him a shot of adrenalin, and his pants grew tight as his erection sprang to life—not that she’d been able to see it under all the layers of clothing.

Lifting herself up, oblivious to the rest of the room, she moved to sit astride him. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten they both wore bulky clothes. As she slid onto his lap, she became wedged securely between him and the table.

She looked over her shoulder, tried to move, then stared at him, exasperated. “Crap.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Very smooth.”

“Elegant is my middle name. I used to be a ballet dancer, can’t you tell?”

He laughed and put down his glass. Her faux pas hadn’t appeared to embarrass her. He liked that about her. She wiggled her hips so she could get as close to him as possible, not even looking at the rest of the room to see if anybody was watching. Luckily, the barman had dimmed the lights and they were in the darkest corner, but her boldness and complete disregard for anything other than what she wanted made his heart beat faster. She slid her hands into his hair, smiling as she stroked it, admiring the colour before lowering her lips once again.

He opened his mouth and stroked his tongue across her lips, and she gasped and inhaled as if he’d shocked her. Her own tongue crept out, surprisingly tentative at first, but soon she was kissing him back deeply, giving little murmurs of appreciation that sent shivers up his spine.

He placed both hands on her back, although he couldn’t feel a thing through her padded suit. Suddenly he wanted to rip her clothes off more than anything in the world and press himself up against her, place kisses along her neck, down to her breasts.
Oh yeah, I wonder why, Heath? Nothing to do with the fact that it’s been sixty-two days?

She lifted her head to look at him, her pupils so dilated her eyes looked black.

Still conscious they were in a public place, he said, “You move fast.”

“All this archaeology talk turns me on,” she said.

“Well, there’s plenty more where that came from.”

“Like?” She brushed her lips against his.

“Aurignacian blades. Acheulean handaxes.”

“Mmm.” She kissed his cheekbone.

“Anthropomorphism, natural selection…”

“Oh yeah, keep going.” She kissed his ear, running her tongue around it.

He sighed. “Radiocarbon dating, dendrochronology…”

“Oh, now you’re just being dirty.”

“Well, I was going to make a gag about Homo erectus, but I thought it might ruin the mood.”

She giggled and lifted her head again, her eyes dancing.

He took her hand and kissed it. “The bartender keeps shooting us glances.”

“He’s only jealous.”

He smiled. “Tell me, are you staying here tonight?”

“No, I only came here for a drink and a look around. I’m down the road at the hostel.”

He turned her hand over, kissed her palm. Nothing ventured… “Would you like to stay here tonight?”

Her eyes met his, shining softly.

“I meant with me, by the way,” he clarified.

She pressed her lips together. “I’d love to.”

“I have no idea how we’re going to get up, though.”

“I wonder if they have any shoe horns?”

Laughing, he slid a little to the right, and she wiggled her hips, then he slid again, and before long, he was able to swing her around the edge of the table. Without warning, he stood up, and she squealed and threw her arms around his neck. He held her tightly, letting her legs slide slowly to the floor, heat shooting through him at the weight of her pressed against him, even though he couldn’t feel a thing in the snowsuit. “Come on then.”

Cat took the hand Heath held out to her. His fingers were surprisingly warm on hers as he led her out of the Ice Bar.

She didn’t miss the amused look the barman shot them, and her heart hammered. What the hell was she doing? She’d never gone so far down the seduction route.

They walked along the icy corridor to the end, then turned left, following the numbers pinned into the ice until he came to his room. Reindeer skins covered the arched doorway, and they ducked beneath the furs into the suite.

She stared around her in delight. The large room had round walls like an igloo, carved with glittering silver skeletal tree motifs. The ceiling was engraved with moons and constellations lit with blue and golden lights. The bed stood against one wall, cut from great blocks of ice, covered with a huge thermal sleeping bag topped with thick reindeer furs.