One Hot Winter's Night (7 page)

She opened her eyes, seeing Alexander frown before she turned. “Yeah, like I’ve never heard
that
before.” She pretended to be surprised as she saw Heath. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were a waiter. Another glass of champagne, please.”

He grinned. “I’ll have you know I had to fight off three men to get to this tux. I don’t think there’s a suit left in the city.”

“Perhaps you should have taken that as an omen that you weren’t supposed to come.”

He said nothing, his eyes filled with amusement, and the double entendre of her words sunk in. “Oh, for God’s sake,” she snapped. “This isn’t a 1970s comedy movie.”

He gave a small laugh and stepped a bit closer to her. “Hello,
Julia
.”

“It wasn’t a complete lie,” she protested. “It’s my middle name.” Why was she defending herself?

“Can I call you Catherine?” he murmured, now only inches away from her, his gaze resting on her lips as if there was nobody else in the room.

“Nobody calls me that,” she whispered, her heart thumping.

“There’s a first time for everything.” His lips curved, and she knew he was thinking about being under the thermal sleeping bag, his fingers touching her lightly, or maybe that moment when he’d slid inside her, looking down at her with such surprise and affection when he realised he was her first.

She blushed, remembering the surprise of the moment, how she’d felt while he made love to her, how tender he’d been. His smile widened. Before she could move, he lowered his head and, shocked and flustered, she stood frozen as he kissed her. It was little more than a brush of his mouth on hers, but one of the women in the group gasped, and a scatter of whispers spread like butterflies.

When he raised his head, she blinked at him several times. “What the…?”

He looked up, and she followed his gaze. Someone had tied a sprig of mistletoe to the chandelier. “Merry Christmas,” he said.

She met his eyes. They were full of amusement. He wasn’t angry with her. Far from it. He looked like he wanted to rip off all her clothes and give himself an early Christmas present.

Beside her, Alexander coughed discreetly, and she suddenly remembered where she was. She cleared her throat nervously. “Heath, this is Professor Alexander Holland, retired university lecturer and an expert in Egyptology amongst many other things. Alex, this is Dr Heath Roberts. He works for Te Papa Museum in Wellington.”

Alexander stared at Heath. His eyes went to the younger man’s silver hair. “Ah. So
you’re
the Silver Fox. Clearly that’s why the two of you want to tear each other’s throats out.”

Cat could have died on the spot. She hadn’t told Alexander everything that had happened in Sweden.
Crap.
That was going to come back and bite her in the arse.

She met Heath’s eyes, and before he could illuminate Alexander, she gave him an almost imperceptible shake of her head and an imploring look. It was a risky request. She hardly knew the man. Maybe he would think it funny to enlighten Alexander with the gory details of their meeting as payback for what she’d done.

Heath caught the look and studied her with interest. He gave her a small smile, however, and her panic died down. He turned to Alexander and held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Professor Holland. Yes, I had the pleasure of making Catherine’s acquaintance in Jukkasjärvi.” He glanced over at her. “I believe you may have inadvertently taken something that belonged to me, Dr Livingstone.”

She blew a raspberry at him. “Which you acquired by pretending to work for the British Museum, so you can get off your high horse about that.”

“I did pay for the item,” he reminded her.

“I believe I reimbursed you for that.” The words were out before she could stop them, and she waited for Alexander to question what she meant, but he was talking to a man standing behind them. She turned to see Dr Sayed Mahmoud Kamel shaking Alexander’s hand.

The tall, slim Egyptian nodded his head at Alexander, but he was already looking over at her, his dark eyes warm. She walked over and accepted his handshake, giving him her most dazzling smile. “Sayed, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine, my dear.” He stepped forward and kissed her lightly on both cheeks. “You look breath-taking—but then you always do.”

“What a creep.”

Cat ignored Heath’s murmured words and looked down coyly before smiling up at the Egyptian. “Thank you, Sayed. You are too kind.”

“I speak only the truth, which is that you are like an Egyptian goddess.” He indicated the dance floor. “Would you care to dance with me?”

“I would be honoured.”

He took her hand and led her toward the half a dozen couples swaying in time to the music. She walked past Heath, not looking up at him.
Concentrate
, she told herself. She was here to make a purchase—that was all. She had to forget about the handsome archaeologist and what had happened beneath the reindeer furs.

They reached the wooden dance floor and Sayed turned her to face him, sliding his right hand around her. His warm palm rested slightly lower than she would have liked on her hip, but hey, whatever closed the deal.

They began to move with the music. He was an elegant man, and many eyes in the room were on the two of them at that moment—including Heath’s. A touch mischievously, she pressed herself closer to Sayed, looking up into his eyes.

His dark orbs studied hers. “It has been a while.”

“Too long, Sayed.”

“Yes.” His hand slid half an inch lower onto her butt. “You never called me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You never called me either.”

“You told me not to.”

“Do you always do what you’re told?”

He smiled lazily. “No.”

He was very handsome, in a harsh, slightly scary sort of way. Although not much taller than her, his jet black hair, swarthy skin and dark eyes gave him an imposing, rather daunting presence. Her heart pounded, and not in a good way, as she remembered the last time they’d met over two years before when she was chasing down some artefact he owned. She’d led him on a little, flirted and promised more, although she’d left once he gave in and sold her the item. But she was determined to act as if that had been a mistake. If Heath’s eyes hadn’t been burning into the back of her head, she might have kissed him.

“You know why I’m here,” she said.

“The Bastet figurine.”

“That’s right.”

His thumb stroked the hand he was holding. “I may have it.”

“I know you have it. Your men found it last week in the dig at Hierakonpolis.”

He smiled. “You have good sources. Why do you want it so much?”

“The British Museum has a new Egyptian exhibit opening and they want a special display on cats.”

“It is my very favourite artefact.”

“Oh, Sayed, I doubt you’ve looked at it twice since it was discovered.”

He shrugged. “You want it, therefore I want it too.”

She looked him directly in the eye. “What price are you asking?”

He stroked her hand again. “What are you willing to pay?”

“Everything is on the table, Sayed.” Jeez, she had to stop doing this. She was turning into a floozy.

He smiled at her, glancing over at where Alexander was standing with Heath. “Are you sure about that? I have a feeling there are two gentlemen who would not be happy with you offering yourself so freely.”

Her cheeks grew hot with indignation. “My personal life is no business of either of them.”

The Egyptian surveyed the New Zealander coolly. “Who is he?”

She glanced over at where Heath stood sipping his champagne, one hand in his trouser pocket. His gaze had been glued to her, but now he met Sayed’s hard stare. “Dr Heath Roberts. A regular Indiana Jones if ever I saw one.”

“Like you?”

She grinned at that. “I guess.”

Sayed tore his eyes away from Heath’s frown and looked back at her. His hand slid ever so slowly down, onto her butt cheek, and he pulled her close enough to him so their hips touched. “Let us talk payment again. I find myself interested in making a deal.”

He only wanted her because Heath wanted her. It stung a little, but she shrugged it off. The artefact was all that mattered. “Let me think about what I can offer you…”

Chapter 9

Heath finished off his champagne and twirled the narrow glass in his fingers. He studied Cat’s slim form on the dance floor. He’d known she’d be there, of course. He’d heard about the Bastet figurine, and he knew the Black Cat would head for Cairo like an arrow from a bow. He’d convinced himself he’d only gone to Egypt to acquire the artefact, but as soon as he saw her in the skin-tight scarlet dress, he’d known he was kidding himself.

He’d been unable to get her out of his mind since the morning he’d awoken to find the bed cold. It hadn’t taken him long to find out her real name on the Internet and to discover she was a well-respected expert in the archaeology world. The thought that she was more than a match for him professionally only added fuel to his ardour.

Now he watched the Egyptian’s hand squeeze her arse, and he narrowed his eyes.

“She won’t thank you.” Alexander’s voice held a hint of amusement.

He turned, surprised. “For what?”

“Rescuing her.”

Heath met the older man’s gaze and then looked back at the couple. “I’m guessing that’s Dr Kamel?”

“Yes.”

“What do you know about him?”

“He’s very high up in the Egyptian Government. He’s also extremely rich and known for his collections of priceless treasures.”

Heath knew all that—he’d meant what did Alexander know about him personally. Was the man married? Had he and Cat had a relationship, albeit obviously not a sexual one? It was clear they knew each other. “She’s met him before.”

“She bought a rare Scorpion Macehead from him two years ago.”

Heath nodded, watching the way she looked up at Kamel and laughed, tipping her head back, shaking her hair. He recognized the mannerism from his initial contact with her in the Ice Bar. She was flirting, buttering Kamel up. Presumably it wasn’t the first time she’d done it with the Egyptian either.

Heath was beginning to understand her bartering system; this was obviously the way the Black Cat often made a deal. He had to constantly remind himself that whatever had happened that night in Jukkasjärvi, she was a clever and astute businesswoman who wasn’t afraid of using her sexuality to close a deal, even if she’d never gone as far before as she had with him.

In spite of his reminder to himself, though, the memory of what they’d got up to under the covers brought a smile to his face. He’d been her first. That had to mean something.

“Don’t hurt her,” said Alexander.

Heath looked across at him in surprise. The old man’s gaze was concerned, angry even. “Sorry, what?”

Alexander took a step closer to him. “I saw the way she looked at you. And I can see the way you’re looking at her. She likes you, Dr Roberts, although she may not realise it yet. But she keeps herself locked away for a reason. She doesn’t need you to go opening doors that should remain closed. She’s fragile as a butterfly.”

Heath surveyed him for a moment, intrigued by the man’s passionate speech. “Are you her father or her lover?”

Alexander’s eyes burned into him. “I’m neither. But I’m the closest thing she’s got to family, and I won’t stand by and watch you trample all over her heart.”

Heath smiled and placed his glass on the nearest table. “Don’t worry, sir, I have no intention of hurting her.”

He started walking toward the couple who were moving slowly to the music and standing far too close for his liking. After a few steps, however, he turned back to face Alexander. The old man glared at him. Heath grinned, flicking out his hands innocently. “I just want to talk to her.”

Leaving Alexander standing there, furious, Heath strode determinedly toward the dance floor.

Cat could feel Sayed’s growing interest as he pressed himself against her. Inwardly she sighed, but she made herself smile and raise an eyebrow at him, looking deeply into his eyes.

Just then she felt a presence at her elbow and looked over her shoulder to see Heath standing there. He smiled at Sayed. “Good evening, Dr Kamel. May I step in? It seems a shame to let you keep this beautiful young lady to yourself all evening.”

Furious, Cat opened her mouth to tell him to get lost, but Sayed was already nodding politely, and he released her hand and stepped back to let the Kiwi take his place. “We will speak further shortly,” the Egyptian told her, dipping his head in a short bow before walking away.

Cat watched him go and then turned her angry gaze back to Heath, who placed his right hand very properly on her waist, his left grasping hers firmly. He began to guide her around the dance floor, seemingly unaware of the fact that she was speechless with rage. He looked absolutely gorgeous in his black suit and tie and crisp white shirt, his silver hair shining in the light from the chandeliers.
Damn him
.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.

He grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“I did not need to be rescued!”

“Oh, I beg to differ. Grabbing your arse in the middle of a crowded ballroom is not appropriate behaviour.”

“You’d have done the same thing if he hadn’t done it first,” she scoffed.

“Are you amazed at my restraint?”

“Not really. The way you’re looking down the front of my dress kind of overrides any admiration I might have had.”

“Oh come on, I’m three inches taller than you even when you’re wearing heels. How can I not look down your cleavage?”

“You could try.”

He smiled. “I think you’ve tried hard to put yourself on display tonight. I’m sure you’d be very disappointed if every man you met wasn’t looking down your front or admiring your butt in that extremely tight dress, especially as you obviously aren’t wearing any underwear.”

She flushed. “How dare you judge me!”

“I wasn’t judging—I was making an observation.”

She glared at him. What was it with this man? How was he able to wheedle his way beneath her carefully erected screen?