Stolen Heat - By Elisabeth Naughton Page 0,6

chin as if she hadn’t just been flat on her back, spread wide with her legs straight up in the air.

Pete fixed his shirt in silence, more shaken than he liked. By the time he was done, the car was pulling to a stop in front of Maria’s building.

“Well,” she said, reaching for her small handbag. “That was an interesting ride.”

Interesting was an understatement. He waited while the chauffeur opened the door, then slid out of the vehicle and took Maria’s hand to help her out. “Wait here,” he said. “I won’t be long.”

He caught up with Maria just as she was going inside. The bellman held the door, tipped his hat and smiled a friendly greeting as they headed for the bank of elevators. The double doors opened with a ping, but Maria didn’t make a move to step inside, and neither did he.

“You’re not coming up, are you?” she finally asked.

A pang of guilt shot through him at the hurt he thought he heard in her voice. “No.”

She turned his direction and looked up with dark, un-surprised eyes. Eyes that were very calm and, luckily, not the slightest bit upset. “Who was she?”

It was his turn to be shocked. “Who?”

“The woman at the auction. The one you went running after. Who was she?”

Nobody he’d ever talk about. Not with her. Not with anyone. “Just someone I thought I recognized.”

“Hm.” She pursed her lips as if she didn’t believe him. Then her expression hardened. “I realize our relationship is not exclusive, Peter. But in the future, if you call me for an evening, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t go off chasing other women.”

Okay, he’d been wrong. She was pissed.

“Maria—”

“And another thing,” she said, stepping into the elevator and placing a hand on the door so it wouldn’t close. “Do not get between me and a client. Ever. Are we clear? Date or not, that’s not your call.”

There was the hard-as-nails businesswoman he remembered. Take a punch, come back up swinging. She was good at that. It was one of the reasons she was so successful, a big reason he liked to hook up with her now and then. She was the exact opposite of what he used to be attracted to. It was also the reason she wouldn’t ever be anything more than an occasional lay.

He stiffened, thankful he was on his way out and not up, not tempted in the slightest to argue with her on this point. “I’ll remember that. Good night, Maria.”

To her credit, she didn’t try to stop him with any whimpering female apologies. No, not Maria. In that respect they were way too much alike.

That thought churned in his head as he headed for the front door. Brisk air whooshed around him when he stepped out onto the street. Snow had begun to fall again in big white, chunky flakes that were quickly sticking to the sidewalk and vehicles parked along the road. At this time of night, and with the crappy weather, there were few pedestrians out and about. A single car passed by, tires squishing through the slush.

He looked up to discover the limo was gone. Then had a moment of, what the hell?, only to realize the driver had pulled up about three car-lengths, probably to make room for another drop-off. Shivering in the cold air and growing increasingly frustrated by the minute, he crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his chin to block out the cold as he headed for the car.

And as he moved, he thought of those eyes he’d seen tonight. So dark. So mesmerizing. So much like Kat’s.

Even though he fought it, her perfect face flashed in his mind, tightening his chest like a vise. Memories of the first day he’d met her and all the mistakes he’d made before and since then ran through his head. And distracted by her now like he’d been from the beginning, he didn’t notice the shadowy figure step out from the alley until it was too late.

CHAPTER THREE

Six-and-a-half years earlier

Valley of the Kings

Pete hung at the back of the group and waited, trying to look entranced by a Middle Kingdom pottery shard resting on a workbench at his side. Worth maybe twenty bucks, he figured, if he could hock it. There was no market for crap like this, though, and so far he hadn’t seen anything even remotely exciting in the last four tours he’d signed up for.

Christ, it was hot. He lifted the wide-brimmed hat he’d

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