One Hot Winter's Night (4 page)

“Oh my God,” she said. “Wow!”

“I second that.” Heath watched her admire the lighting and run her fingers over the carvings, stunned at the design. Then, meeting him back at the foot of the bed, her gaze fell onto his.

She wasn’t sure what was more amazing—the beautiful room or the way his hair shimmered with silver as if it had captured the starlight.

Impatience shot through her. Oh good lord, listen to her.
The necklace, Cat! Concentrate!

She glanced at his luggage in the corner—one bag, still unpacked. She could hardly ask him to show her the contents of his case. He was studying her again. He seemed to like watching her, trying to work out what she was thinking.
He’s your enemy, remember?
He’d made her blood pressure rise and had given her a migraine on more than one occasion when she found his silver fox miniatures. She should just bite the bullet and leave while he still had no idea who she was.

Then he slipped his hand into her hair, cupped her head, and leaned forward for another kiss.

His lips touched hers gently and her heart pounded. His kisses were soft and yet passionate at the same time. The curiosity she felt every time she read one of her romance novels flickered inside her again. Clearly, he was assuming they’d progress to the bed, where he would…what would he do? She wasn’t sure, but she knew for a fact that if he did it, whatever it was, she’d soon be sighing like the actresses did in the movies when they got into bed.

She knew where everything went. How the process worked. She just had no idea what it felt like.

But she couldn’t.

Could she?

The thought made her want to blush, giggle, and swear at the same time. It was ridiculous. She was a professional, and had long since moved on from teenage dreams of romance and happy ever after. She’d sealed her heart in a steel box years ago—she didn’t go all swoony at the first sight of a good-looking guy. Not even when he was an archaeologist with silver hair who held her as if she were the most precious treasure he’d ever seen.

The necklace
, she thought desperately. Maybe if she actually got into bed with him, she could distract him enough to turn the conversation around to talking about it.

Yeah. Because the necklace is the only thing that’s on your mind at the moment.

She couldn’t help it. Her heart—or, more likely, her hormones—were overriding her logic. One more kiss, that couldn’t be too bad, could it? Giving in, she reached up on her tiptoes—and how nice was that when she was nearly five feet ten?—put her arms around his neck, and kissed him back.

Heath sighed and drew her into his arms, and even though her eyeballs were freezing in their sockets from the low temperature, she nearly fainted from the blissfulness of a kiss that melted her from the inside out. His tongue, warm and tasting of the sweet liqueur, delved into her mouth, and he was all height and breadth and strength around her, holding her tightly with powerful arms.

When they finally drew back, he arched his eyebrow ruefully. “Are you sure about this?”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say I’m not at my most impressive at minus five degrees Celsius.”

She giggled. Naughtiness surged through her and, unable to resist, she ran her hands down his body. “I’d say you feel okay to me, but to be honest I can’t feel anything.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps we should remedy that.”

She bit her lip.
Crunch time.

Heath cupped her cheek, smiling as if aware of the thoughts passing through her head. She caught her breath. She’d never imagined sleeping with a man under such circumstances. Hell, she never thought she’d get close to a guy again, let alone have a one-night stand. And certainly not with the man who’d been driving her nuts the past few months!

But he stroked her cheek gently with his thumb, and his hazel eyes were warm and considerate. He was nice, and he was sexy, and oh God she wanted to see him without clothes more than anything in the world. She’d denied herself love for so long. Would one night of fleeting passion be such a bad thing? Just once, she wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

An idea jumped into her head. She’d come here as the Black Cat. He still thought her name was Julia. And there was absolutely no reason she couldn’t continue to play the role. She could seduce him, take what she wanted and still stand a chance of getting the necklace. And if she thought of herself as playing the part, it would give her the courage to go through with it.

Chapter 5

If only she had a sexy bra and knickers on beneath the stupid snowsuit! “I have to warn you,” she said, heart thumping as she dropped her hat onto the furs that covered the carved ice table and started to unzip the suit, “thermals aren’t the sexiest underwear going. I hope it won’t put you off.”

“Likewise.” He pulled the thermal cape over his head and dumped it on top of her hat. Catching his thick sweater by the back of the neck, he tugged it over his head, dropping that on the rapidly growing pile.

Starting to laugh, unable to believe what she was about to do, she wriggled out of the snowsuit, adding it to the heap. Underneath, she wore a soft, thick tracksuit, and she began to unzip the top. Halfway down, however, she came to a sudden stop, staring at him.

“I vote we get under the covers as quickly as possible,” he grunted, oblivious to her stare as he pulled his second, thinner sweater over his head. “First because of the thermals, and second because it’s fucking freezing in here!” He glanced over, realised she was staring, and froze, probably literally, considering he was only wearing the cream, thermal top on his upper half. “What?”

She blinked. “Nothing.” The skin-tight top stretched taut over his muscular arms and impressive chest. His shoulders looked even broader somehow without the bulk of the sweater. His hair stuck up where he’d dragged the sweater over it, and he ran a hand through it, showing her impressive biceps. He was so damn sexy, she nearly swooned like a Victorian governess.

He looked at his chest, then back up at her. “I wouldn’t be shocked if you changed your mind. These are passion killers if I’ve ever seen them.”

She tried to imagine what the Black Cat would do. She finished unzipping her tracksuit top and let it slide down her arms, catching it when it reached her hands. Not taking her eyes from his, she threw it onto the pile of clothing, waiting for his reaction.

His gaze dropped to her breasts, outlined nicely by the clinging thermals, the top two buttons of which were undone to reveal her generous cleavage. He stared, his eyes widening, and she laughed as a smile spread over his face.

“That’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever had,” she teased, sliding her pants down and kicking them off too.

He unzipped his jeans, slid them off, dropping them by the side of the bed, and gestured to the covers. “Quick, into the sleeping bag!”

Laughing, still in their socks and thermals, they climbed onto the huge bed and snuck down into the double bag, zipping it up. Heath grabbed the furs and drew them over the top, then pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. “Are you okay? Jeez, this isn’t exactly the most romantic place for a rendezvous, is it?”

Her heart pounded. The man was all muscle, and he smelled like heaven, all sexy male aftershave and hot body warmth.
Oh dear.
Nerves began to float to the surface like polystyrene pushed under the water. What the hell was she doing? He was like all the heroes she’d ever seen at the movies or read about rolled into one man. This was
not
the sort of guy who’d be used to blushing virgins in his bed.

The memory of her first sexual disaster flashed through her mind and she almost cringed. The guy had been irritated by her lack of knowhow and impatient with her apprehension. In the end she’d tensed up so much he hadn’t been able to enter her, and he’d walked out in disgust. She’d die if that happened again.

Oh…this was a big mistake. Perhaps she should resort to Plan A—getting him riled up so he got carried away and didn’t notice if she quizzed him about the necklace.

“It’s okay, Heath—I don’t need romancing.” Rolling on top of him, she began to undo the rest of the buttons on her top, fingers shaking a little. A flash of breast should do the trick.

“Whoa, slow down, tiger.” He caught her wrists, stopping her before she revealed everything.

“It’s all right. I’m not bothered about foreplay.”

His eyebrows nearly shot off his head. “What?” He looked puzzled. “I’ve never heard a woman say that before.”

“Well, I’m not most women.”

“I’m beginning to realise that,” he said wryly. “You are a puzzle. Did you consider that maybe
I’d
like some foreplay?”

Startled, she pushed herself back so she could stare at him. “A man that needs foreplay? I don’t know whether to be amused or insulted.”

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say ‘need’. I said ‘like’. Come on, the prettiest girl in the room has agreed to go to bed with me—why would I want to rush it? Unless you have to be somewhere?”

She met his eyes, glowing at his compliment. He wanted to take his time with her. Maybe he would be patient. He stroked down her arms, smiling, and once again a deep longing to experience lovemaking just once flooded her. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head to say no, she didn’t have to go.
Not yet, anyway.

“Perhaps you should let me lead,” he said, smiling.

“You want to dance now?”

Laughing, he rolled her onto her back and lay on his side. “Turn over.” He made a circling motion with his finger, indicating for her to face away from him, on her left side. She did so, and he pulled her firmly against him, his chest warm against her back, curling around her, his head propped on an elbow. He slid his right arm over her ribcage, hugging her tightly. “There. Now in the name of everything that’s holy, please try to relax.”

Her heart pounding, she nestled back into him and tried to do as he bid. “I don’t know what’s so important about relaxing. I thought sex was about ramping up the stress levels.”

“Then clearly you’ve never had sex with me.” He began to nuzzle her ear.

“Clearly.” She felt strangely breathless. Everything tingled.
It must be the cold.
It couldn’t be his light, soft kisses on her skin that were making her shiver. And yet she wasn’t really cold at all. His body radiated heat, warming her from her neck to her feet, and though her nose was out in the icy air, everything else glowed in the warmth of the huge, thermal sleeping bag.

She felt his hand on her neck, touching the gold chain she wore there, and he ran his fingers over the wedding ring that hung on the chain. She looked up at him. “I’m not married.”

His eyes met hers. “Okay.”

She took it from him, rolling it between her fingers. “It belonged to a friend.”

He brushed her cheek. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I want to. I…I don’t do this very often, Heath.”
At all, in fact.
“But when I saw you sitting there, I…” She couldn’t think how to phrase the thrill that had shimmered through her when he turned to smile at her.

He lifted her chin so he could reach her lips. “Me too.” He stroked her hair, tucking it behind her ear. He kissed slowly along her neck and shoulder, occasionally tracing his warm tongue on her skin, sending tiny electric shocks to her breasts whenever he did so. She sighed, her mind wandering like a lazy dog let off the leash. “Did you know that a sex manual written in 1684 advises extensive sexual foreplay?”

He ran his fingers lightly up her arm, then slowly down her back, making her catch her breath. “I did not know that, no, but it sounds very sensible.” His deep, gravelly voice vibrated right through her.

She stretched languorously, enjoying the feel of his muscular body pressing against her back and thighs. “It emphasized which parts of the female body should be stimulated, saying that ‘blowing the coals of these amorous fires’ was pleasing for women.”

“An interesting turn of phrase,” he said, blowing gently into her ear. “Maybe you should list these parts for me so I don’t miss anything.”

She sighed again, her hair standing up on the back of her neck. “Did you know there’s a myth that in medieval times if you wanted a baby you had to have the permission of the monarch and that’s why ‘fuck’ means Fornication Under the Consent of the King.’”

He chuckled. “Uncontrollable laughter isn’t the best aid to a great erection,” he pointed out. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“You don’t seem to be having any problem,” she murmured, wriggling her backside. He was impressively long and hard against her butt. He laughed and slipped his hand underneath her thermal top, his palm warm against her cool skin, and traced his fingers around her breasts, not quite touching her nipples.

His light, teasing touch made her breath come in short gasps, and when she spoke, it was almost a whisper. “Did you know that…Cretans developed the first bras…in 2500 BC? They lifted their bare breasts…up and out of their clothing.”

“Julia?”

“Mm?” Her eyelids drooped.

“Stop talking.” He continued running his hand along her body, around her butt, across her stomach.

“Oh, sorry. It’s a nervous condition.” And she’d never been more nervous than she was now. Although his gentle hands were beginning to relax her, loosening her muscles and making her sigh.

“Listing historical facts?” he asked.

“Talking. But anyway, I told you, archaeology turns me on.”

He stopped stroking her and kissed her shoulder. “In that case I’ve got something that should give you an instant orgasm.”

Chapter 6

She turned her head and stared at him. “Oh?”

He grinned and leaned over the side of the bed, picking up his jeans, and delved into the pocket. Her heart seemed to shudder to a stop as he retrieved an item and sat back up in the bed. “Open your hand.”

She did so. He held his closed fist about a foot above hers and then opened his fingers. The necklace unfurled slowly, falling into her palm.

She stared at the chain of small stones, pushing herself upright, not even feeling the icy cold breeze that curled around her back. Turning the stones in her fingers, she saw the tiny runes cut into the surface and the intricate gold wire that linked the stones together and formed the clasp at the top.