Stolen Heat - By Elisabeth Naughton Page 0,27

did Shannon?”

His stomach seized. “You know that was—”

“I know,” she said quickly. “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t blame you, Marty. I know there’s no guarantee and that you did everything you could for her. I just—” She paused, drew in a shaky breath. “It’s not just me.”

Marty clenched his jaw, and not for the first time, considered telling her everything he knew about Kauffman. All the really ugly stuff, too, not just the rumors. But he couldn’t. Because it wouldn’t hurt Kauffman. It’d only cut her.

He hoped like hell the POS knew how lucky he was to have her back in his life.

“We’ll do what we can, Kat. Just get to Philadelphia. As soon as the weather breaks. Don’t wait.”

“I will. Thanks, Marty. I owe you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I…”

Not exactly the response he wanted, but the best he was going to get. “Yeah, well, when this is all done, you can buy me a beer. Or a case. We’ll call it even then.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“No sweat. You take care, Kat. And…”

“Yes?”

“Be safe.”

“I will.”

The line went dead. He stood in the middle of his grungy hotel room dressed in nothing but boxers long moments after he closed the connection, cell pressed against his forehead, knot twisting in his stomach.

Be safe, Kat.

He hoped like hell she would be. But he had a feeling things were about to get a helluva lot worse before they got better.

He pulled the phone away from his face and dialed again.

CHAPTER NINE

Six-and-a-half years earlier

Cairo

“If you let me have the first shower I’ll do your laundry for a week.”

Kat chuckled at Shannon’s comment as they hauled their gear out of the tomb on Friday evening. They were both covered in an inch of dust, hot and sweaty from working belowground, but giddy with excitement. Dr. Latham had finally given Kat the break she’d wanted. He’d assigned her and Shannon to the most recently discovered burial chamber. After three and a half months on site, she was finally getting a taste of what working the dig was really like. She’d never been more excited. Or as tired.

“As tempting as that is,” she said with a grin as they headed up the last set of steps toward the fading light, “I’m going to have to pass. You still owe me for convincing me to go out with Pete, remember?”

Shannon huffed behind her. “I still think you must have done something to make him run. He was way into you. Did you pick your teeth or talk about your ex too much or drone on and on about Nefertiti? Because you have a habit of doing that, you know.”

Kat sent her roommate a look in the dim light. “I have a habit of picking my teeth?”

Shannon rolled her eyes and pushed past her. “Droning on and on about Egyptian history. It gets old.”

“I do not.”

“Yes. You do. If I’d known you were going to embarrass yourself I would have given you pointers.”

“I can’t wait to hear these,” Kat muttered, following behind. Shannon was a man magnet, and she knew it. Shoulder-length, curly blonde hair, green eyes that drove guys nuts and a confident ability to flirt with just about any guy without feeling self-conscious. She knew how to work men, and she did it well, but she was also one of the sweetest people Kat had ever met.

“I’m an Egyptologist,” Kat said in defense of herself. “Of course I’d want to talk about Egyptian history. And he’s an art dealer. Trust me, he was interested.”

“In you or what you were boring him with?”

Kat opened her mouth, then closed it when she realized she didn’t know the answer. Had she bored him? She knew she hadn’t picked her teeth, and she definitely hadn’t talked about Marty, so maybe Shannon was right. Maybe Pete had realized by the time dinner was finished that he just wasn’t interested anymore.

The thought depressed her way more than she liked. She’d spent more time than was healthy over the last two weeks thinking about the way he’d pursued her, what she’d thought was an amazing dinner and the fact he’d cut and run as fast as possible after.

“Okay,” Shannon said as they neared the last step. “I’ll admit my lack of coaching might have played a role in your dismal date. Since he’s gone and there’s no chance for a second go—there is no chance, right?”

“None at all.” Dammit.

“Okay, for that I’ll make

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