The other option was a one-night stand.
Heath was rather old-fashioned, and had never slept with a girl on the first night he met her. He liked to wine and dine his partners for a few dates, get to know them a bit better before they made a move to the bedroom. But in his present state of mind, the idea of finding a woman who would be interested in a quick winter fling was strangely appealing.
Sipping his cocktail, he scanned the bar mischievously, wondering if anyone fit the bill. As he’d already observed, however, everyone already seemed to be with a member of the opposite sex or in a group—nobody else appeared to be alone. And anyway, none of the women present took his fancy. You’re getting picky now you’ve turned thirty, he scolded himself, sighing as he finished off the drink.
Then his gaze alighted on a woman standing at the far end of the bar ordering a drink. She was tall for a girl, maybe five nine or ten, wearing one of the obligatory silver thermal capes over an amusing blue snowsuit so bulky it gave no clue as to her figure. Like many other people in the bar, she also wore a large fur hat that completely covered her head, but as he watched, she removed it to reveal shiny blonde hair tied in a tight knot at the nape of her neck. Pulling out the pins that secured the knot, she shook her head, and her hair tumbled in golden waves down her back. He raised his eyebrows appreciatively.
The bartender handed her a cocktail, and she smiled her thanks, lighting up a face that, although beautiful, looked fresh and devoid of make-up, with wide, intelligent eyes—hardly the visage of a woman on the pull. Why was she there, alone? On business?
She turned and sat on a bar stool, scanning the room. She wasn’t talking to anyone, and at that moment no guy had zoomed in on her, although it wouldn’t be long, judging by the nudges that some of the guys in a group in the corner were giving each other.
On impulse, Heath stood and, taking his empty glass, walked across the room to lean on the bar beside her.
He ordered another cocktail, aware as he spoke that she’d turned to look at him. He let her study him for a moment, waiting for the drink to arrive, smiled at the bartender, and paid him. Sipping the drink, he finally turned to meet her gaze.
Wow. She was stunning. Up close, her eyes were a light, almost silvery green, almost reflecting the light like cat’s eyes. She continued to stare at him with surprise.
“Hello,” he said eventually, starting to smile with amusement. “Do I know you?”
“Um, I don’t think so.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and laughed self-consciously. “I’m sorry, I was staring. Your hair’s just so unusual.”
He glanced over at the mirror behind the bar and ran his hand through the silvery-grey strands. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
“It’s just that you don’t look that old.”
“It’s hereditary, I’m afraid. My dad and brother are the same. We all turned grey before we turned thirty.”
“Oh, it’s not grey. Grey makes you think of wizened old men and bus passes. Yours is more…silver.”
“Don’t say that.” He rolled his eyes. “With this cape, I’m worried I resemble the robot from The Day the Earth Stood Still.”
She grinned and quoted the robot’s famous line from the movie. “And if you start coming out with that, I’ll know it’s time to leave.”
He burst out laughing. “Hey, a girl that likes science fiction. Well, this is turning out to be an interesting night.”
She blushed, but her eyes danced. “I’m Julia, by the way.”
“I’m Heath.” He held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
She shook it. “Likewise.” Her hand lingered slightly longer than necessary in his—or had he imagined it? Maybe his sex-tuned brain was fantasizing. Her gorgeous, upper-class, Lara Croft English accent wasn’t helping. It did strange things to his blood pressure.
She sipped her cocktail, looking around the room. “Isn’t it beautiful in here?”
“Yeah. I can’t believe they rebuild it completely every year.”
She ran her hand over the bar, which was constructed from square blocks of ice. Her fingers were long and slender with elegant nails, and he had a vivid image of them skimming over his thigh, closing around him.
He blinked. Slow down, Joe! She was probably waiting for someone. Or gay. Or a nun. It was far too early to be thinking of how soft her lips would feel beneath his. Or how large her breasts were under the snowsuit.
He cleared his throat. “Quite a feat of engineering.” He held up his drink. “Skål!”
“Skål!” she repeated, and they clinked glasses.
He studied her, interested. “So what are you doing here? You’re obviously English—what brings you to this dark part of the world?”
“I’ve just finished university. I’m spending a bit of time travelling.”
“A student of what?” He sipped his cocktail. Lingerie design, and she wants to show you some of her products? Yoga, and she’d like your assistance with some of the positions? Heath, would you mind helping me carry out some research on sex toys?
She lowered her eyes, embarrassed. “I don’t want to say. You’ll laugh.”
“No, I won’t. I promise.” Unless it really is the sex toys thing.
She sighed. “Okay. Archaeology.”
He coughed into his drink. Dear God.
“See, I told you. Guys find it a right turn-off, all that history and dead bodies and stuff.”
He wiped his mouth, hoping the blue vodka hadn’t come out of his nose. “Not me. I happen to be an archaeologist too.”
She stared at him. “No! Really?”
He picked up his drink. Time to take a chance. “I was sitting over there.” He pointed to the corner. “Would you like to join me, or are you waiting for someone?”
“No, I’m alone.” She slid off the stool. “Sure, that would be nice—it’s awful sitting in a bar on your own. You always worry some nutcase is going to come and chat you up.”
“Well, hopefully I don’t fit into that category.” Smiling, Heath led the way back to his icy seat in the corner, unable to believe his luck. What were the chances? A girl who was an archaeologist and into science fiction. Talk about meant to be. This meeting was written in the stars.
He sat on the icy bench and watched her as she slid in beside him, her green eyes glittering in the light from the bar.
Chapter 3
Cat sipped her drink, trying not to smirk at how gullible he was. He looked like a boy who’d discovered he had the biggest box of Lego in the world for Christmas. And it had been so easy! Mind you, the science fiction thing had been pure luck—she happened to like the genre, and The Day the Earth Stood Still was one of her favourites.
She tried not to stare at his silver hair, which shone almost blue in the atmospheric lighting. She’d expected him to be much older, maybe early sixties, haggard and hard. With an evil glint in his eye like a Nazi villain from an Indiana Jones movie.
The reality was completely the opposite. He was young, only a year or two older than she was, probably, and extremely good looking. When he’d finally turned to look at her at the bar he’d taken her breath away. “Hello,” he’d said, and his voice—with a distinctive Antipodean accent—had been deep and gravelly, his hazel eyes providing his face with a warmth that his hair lacked, and they’d been filled with admiration and interest as he studied her.
Since he was wearing the ridiculous silver cape and had several thick layers of clothing underneath, she was unable to get much idea of his physique, but he was tall—really tall, maybe six-three or -four – and she had a sneaky feeling his body probably matched his impressive height.
She sipped her drink, aware of him studying her. She wasn’t used to practising her charms on this sort of man. None of her previous targets had ever made her heart pound in this way. Alarm shot through her, and she was tempted to walk out of the bar. But he’d started speaking, so she made herself sit still, concentrating on the fact that he had the ancient necklace, trying not to
think about his good looks.
Chic and sophisticated. That was the key.
She went to lean on the table, missed, and almost fell off the bench.
He caught her. “Oops. You okay?”
“Jeez.” She put her drink on the table and licked the drops of spilled cocktail from her fingers. “I’m fine. This is my first drink of the evening, I swear. I’m just naturally clumsy.” She didn’t miss the way his gaze followed the movements of her tongue. A sensual shiver ran through her, unnerving her. Men often looked at her body with desire, but it had never had this effect on her before.
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 an
d 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.
One Hot Winter's Night Page 2
