of what he’d just given her, she did realize it was an important moment between them. “Yes, of course I do.”
Her hand tightened around his forearm. “When do you think you’ll be back?”
For your sake? Hopefully never.
He brushed a lock of hair back from her cheek, marveled at how soft her skin was and called himself ten kinds of stupid.
Why her? Why was she the one woman to get under his skin when he’d avoided letting any woman inside all these years?
All he knew for certain was that there was something special about her. Something pure and fresh and wholesome he hadn’t ever experienced before. Something that made him feel whole and fresh and pure. And corny as that sounded, he only wanted more of her. “I don’t know.”
She put her hand over his on her cheek, tipped her head into his touch in a move that was so tender his heart pinched. “This is really stupid, isn’t it? We don’t have a shot in hell at making this work.”
“Yes, we do,” he heard himself say, even though he knew it was a mistake. “Because what we’ve got going here is a lot more than most couples who live in the same city have.”
“And what’s that?”
“Everything.”
Her dark eyes held his as if she were searching his soul for some truth he couldn’t prove. Then she leaned up and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her face slid into the hollow between his throat and shoulder in a way that felt like she’d been made just for him. “I’m very glad you took my tour four times in a row, Peter Kauffman.”
He closed his eyes and held her tight. And hoped she’d still be saying that a month from now.
Before he thought of a reason to change his mind, he eased back and reached for his bag on the floor. “There’s something I want to give you.”
He watched her closely as he handed her the small wooden box he’d been debating over giving her, then held his breath while she opened it.
Her doe eyes widened, then darted up to his face. “How did you—”
“It came from a private collection,” he said quickly, hoping to God that was the truth. “I found it in Europe last week, and, well, it made me think of you.” Carefully, she lifted the chain. The gold crouching pharaoh pendant peeked over the edge of the box. “I’ve got the provenance on it, and all the paperwork, just so you know.”
She didn’t seem to hear him. “This has to be worth a fortune.”
It was. But seeing her reaction to it now, the awe in her eyes as she stared at the piece, there was no way he could ever sell it.
“I want you to have it, Kat. It means more to you than it would some stuffy old collector.”
“Look at the detail.” She ran her fingers over the gleaming gold. “It’s so beautiful. Made for a queen. This should be in a museum.”
Gently, he took the chain from her hands and draped it over her head so the golden pharaoh fell over her St. Jude medallion and hung between her succulent breasts. “It looks to me like it was made for you. And it doesn’t even come close to being as beautiful as you are.”
Her eyes lifted to his, and his heart turned over at the tenderness he saw there. At the trust. And when she whispered, “Pete,” and tugged him close with a hand that felt like heaven and he knew from experience could take him there, he gave in and brushed his lips softly over hers.
He meant the kiss to be gentle, he really did, but the moment her hands came up to cradle his face and she opened to his mouth, his restraint broke. He pulled her tighter against his body, opened and stroked his tongue against hers until they were both breathless and frustrated beyond words. Then he pressed his forehead to hers and waited until the last possible second before he finally let go and stood.
He lifted his bag from the floor. “It’s clichéd to say I’ll call.”
She hooked her arms around her knees. “But you’d better if you know what’s good for you.”
He smiled at her lusty grin and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes and squashed forever that little voice telling him to walk away. He couldn’t now, even if he wanted to. “I will, Kit-Kat. I promise. Think about me lying next to you when you go to sleep