Stolen Heat Part 20

"Lie down, Kat," he said, his voice hard. "You're not going to be any use to me tomorrow if you're dead on your feet. We're both tired. We need to sleep while we can."

Her eyes cut from the mattress to him. And she knew she was stuck. When he lay back on the pillow again and crossed his bare feet at the ankles, she flicked the bathroom light off and walked around the bed to the far side.

Okay. She could do this. Lie here beside him. Not think about touching him or kissing him or having wild jungle s.e.x with him. She was tough, after all. She'd proved it over the past six years, hadn't she?

Her pack hit the floor with a soft thud as she sat on the edge of the bed with her back to him. The mattress was firm, and she gave it a bounce to see if it softened. No luck.

Carefully, she eased back on the pillow, well on her side of the bed and away from Pete's near nakedness. She lay still, listening to his breathing, waiting for it to deepen and indicate he was asleep.

It took forever. While she waited, she quietly crossed her arms over her chest, dropped them to her side, folded them over her middle. She was hot. It was too d.a.m.n warm in the room, and her skin felt p.r.i.c.kly. She eyed the heater and thought about getting up and turning it off.

No, she'd just live with it. If he was starting to drift off, she didn't want to do anything to rouse him.

She blew out a long breath and crossed her feet. Uncrossed them. Her skin itched, and she reached up to scratch her arms. Then her side. Her thighs. She thought about the mattress they were sleeping on. The run-down motel. How many other people had slept in this same room. What lived on the mattress.

d.a.m.n. This wasn't working.

Before she could stop herself she jumped up, reached for the edge of the fitted sheet and pulled it back from the corner of the mattress.

Pete eased up on his elbows, looking irritated beyond belief. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Just..."

The mattress was clean. She checked the edges. The creases. Pulled the sheet far enough back to look under where her pillow lay.

"Kat?"

Nothing.

She retucked the sheet. "I watched a special on 60 Minutes 60 Minutes about bedbugs in motels." She reached for the flimsy faux wood headboard. "They're often ma.s.sed behind the-" about bedbugs in motels." She reached for the flimsy faux wood headboard. "They're often ma.s.sed behind the-"

She pulled the headboard away from the wall, half expecting to see it alive with creepy-crawlies, but there was nothing.

"Kat, lie down."

She stared at the headboard some more. Bit her lip. Felt like crawling out of her own skin.

G.o.d, this was awful.

"Kat." He sat up straighter. And softened his voice enough to make her look his way. "Come back to bed. Nothing's going to bite you. Not even me. I promise."

Dammit. He knew what was bothering her. And she was a complete idiot for letting it get to her like this.

Thankful he couldn't see her bright red cheeks, she settled back onto the mattress, knowing there was no way in h.e.l.l she'd be able to sleep.

She closed her eyes tight. Opened them. Bit her lip hard so she couldn't sigh and stared at the ceiling.

"Ditching the shoes might help," he said into the dark.

Right. Yeah. Like shoes on wasn't a dead giveaway she was ready to bolt.

Kat toed them off and sat up to move them by her pack on the floor. She lay down again. Waited. Rolled to her side. Eased onto her belly. Rolled back again as quietly as she could.

Oh, man. This just wasn't working.

The sheets rustled as Pete moved on his side of the bed. Then she felt him scoot close to her. Her adrenaline jumped, and she stilled quickly.

"Lift your head."

Not knowing what he wanted, she obeyed, all sorts of thoughts going through her head. Was he giving her his pillow? Taking hers away? Kicking her out of the bed after all because she kept tossing around like a mix-master?

Then she felt his arm slide under her nape, and he pulled her close so she was suddenly snuggled up to his side.

He was warm and hard against her skin, yet safe and unbelievably comfortable. And when he tugged her closer so her head rested against his chest, she didn't fight it. Instead she let out a little sigh of contentment and finally felt her body begin to relax.

It was wrong on so many levels, but oh, it felt right.

His hand ran over her hair in a soft, barely there caress. "Close your eyes. You need sleep."

She was suddenly more tired than she'd been in years, the weight of every one of her decisions weighing heavily on her shoulders. She chanced a glance up to his face and through the dim light coming from a crack in the curtains saw his eyes were closed, yet he continued to stroke her hair and her neck, to run his hand down her arm in a soft, gentle motion that was so at odds with the way he'd treated her over the past few hours, it confused her. Way more than thinking he wanted to use s.e.x to punish her.

She finally couldn't stand it anymore. "Why are you being nice to me?"

"Momentary lapse in judgment," he mumbled.

There was humor in his voice, and dammit, it made her smile.

"Besides," he went on, "I figure if you don't get to sleep, then I don't get to sleep, and it'll be bad news all around if we're both bleary-eyed in the morning."

What he didn't say, and what tugged on her heart, was that this was how she'd often fallen asleep with him in Cairo. Snuggled up tight and warm. Usually after making love, but not always. When she'd been stressed or antsy about her job, when things hadn't been going well between them, being in his arms had always calmed her. And he remembered.

Kat looked down at his bare skin. Watched the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Thought about the events of the day. There was no reason for him to come back for her in the park, but he had. He could have walked away after they lost their tail in the city, but he hadn't. He didn't have to be holding her now, but he was.

And then out of nowhere, she remembered the flowers. Big bouquets of lilies and roses and spears of white freesia. And him.

"Thank you," she whispered.

" 's okay," he mumbled in that sleepy, s.e.xy voice. "Long as you stop tossing. I'm good."

She smiled in the dark. "No. Not for that. Though thank you for that, too." She sobered. "I meant thank you for the flowers."

His hand stilled in her hair, and his chest rose and fell a few more times. She knew he was dozing off, but that was okay.

"Flowers?" he asked in a slur out of nowhere, as if his brain had finally caught up with the conversation and didn't want to give up to sleep yet. "What flowers?"

"The ones you sent to my mother's funeral."

Silence. Then, "You were there?"

A pang of regret snaked through her, and she closed her eyes. Her adoptive mother had been a nurse for over thirty years and healthy as an ox. Kat had never thought someone as strong as Jane Meyer could fall to something as ordinary as a heart attack. Or as fast.

She should have been with her mother the day she'd collapsed, not hiding in upstate New York like a scared rat. Maybe she would have gotten Jane to the hospital in time. Maybe the doctors would have been able to revive her. Maybe she'd still be here now.

Tears stung Kat's eyes, but she forced them back. Regrets. Yeah. She had them. She had enough to last a lifetime and then some.

"No. Not for the service," she managed. "But I was there before. At the funeral home when no one was around. I saw them then. They were beautiful."

Silence hung between them like a steel barrier, and then he said softly, "I didn't see you."

Her heart b.u.mped. He'd been there?

"It was a nice service. You...you would have liked it."

Kat's chest squeezed tight, and her throat grew thick. In the quiet she didn't know what to say. And she was thankful when he went on and she didn't have to say anything.

"There were a lot of people. Standing room only. Your mother had a lot of friends. I think the whole staff of the hospital was there. Big gray-haired guy-Dr. Carter?-spoke about the first time she brought you in with her on one of her shifts. Scrawny ten-year-old with a heap of att.i.tude, that was what he remembered about you. He thought for sure she was making a mistake by adopting a kid who'd been through so many foster homes and in and out of that orphanage. And when she made you sit at the nurses' station all night with a history book to read while she worked, he told her that was cruel and unusual punishment, even for her, and that you'd turn out to be the worst kid ever."

Kat smiled as she listened. Remembered back. At the time she'd thought that was cruel and unusual punishment herself. It'd taken her a long time to trust Jane, and she knew now the trust issues she had as an adult stemmed from her early childhood, but when she'd finally opened herself up to her new mother, she'd found the family she'd always dreamed of.

"Addie Walker talked about how Jane didn't have money for a sitter and how she hoped taking you to the hospital with her night after night would get you interested in medicine. She wanted you to become a doctor. But you were too focused on history by that point and were more interested in the dead than the living. Then when you got accepted into your doctorate program, she ran up to Dr. Carter and waved your acceptance letter in his face. Told him the scrawny, obnoxious Meyer kid was going to be a doctor after all."

A wave of adoration rushed through Kat as she listened. She hadn't known her mother had done that to the cranky old doctor, and her heart squeezed tight. Her mother had been her biggest advocate. Whenever Kat had thought she couldn't do something, Jane Meyer had set her straight. You're smart. And you're resourceful. Where you came from doesn't matter. You'll find a way. You're smart. And you're resourceful. Where you came from doesn't matter. You'll find a way.

And she had. Most of the time.

"They told a lot of stories about her," Pete said into the darkness. "About you. It was strange being there. Sort of like the memorial service she had for you after..."

Kat's heart pinched again, this time with her own discomfort. Because hearing him say it suddenly made it all real. She'd never thought about the fact Janie Meyer would have had a memorial service for her only daughter, but of course she would have. Even in her grief, she would have had a big party with all her friends to celebrate her daughter's life.

But what also hit her, as she laid there next to him, listening to his words, was that he'd been at that one, too. He'd gone to Points Bluff, Washington, population 1,257, two hours from Spokane, not only for her mother's funeral, but for her her memorial service. Even after that horrible last argument in Cairo. After he'd walked out the door without looking back. memorial service. Even after that horrible last argument in Cairo. After he'd walked out the door without looking back.

He'd gone to comfort her mother. A woman he'd never met and had no obligation toward.

Words lodged in her through. "Pete-"

"I'm really tired, Kat." His voice changed. Hardened. Grew distant. "We have a big day tomorrow, and I need to sleep. You do, too."

He was right, but the fact he'd cut her off stung.

He didn't make a move to push her to her side of the bed, and she didn't volunteer to go. So she closed her eyes and breathed deep, inhaling the scents of soap and fresh cotton and his unique musky scent. Reveled in it for a few more hours at least.

She must have slept, though she had no idea how much time pa.s.sed. When Pete moved his leg on the mattress, she startled awake.

Bleary-eyed, she looked over him toward the digital clock on the bedside table and felt her heart drop. 2:34 a.m. If she was going to escape, she had to do it now.

She slowly pushed up on her elbow, pausing when the mattress creaked. One look confirmed Pete was still sleeping. His head was tipped her way, his mouth slightly open. The little bit of light coming through the slit in the curtains highlighted blond hair falling across his forehead, the shadow of beard on his jaw. Even his long eyelashes, blond at the root, darkening to a warm brown at the tips. She listened to the steady draw of his breath, watched as his bare, muscular chest rose and fell, and felt a little of her heart break all over again.

She was doing the right thing. Leaving now before it was too late. Before he was more embroiled in this whole mess. She now knew Busir was just a hired thug, that this went higher than she'd thought, into the SCA, possibly into INTERPOL. If this was ever going to be over, she had to figure out who was behind it all. What she'd seen and how it all meshed together. She knew where she had to start, and she knew she didn't want Pete tagging along. Not when she was starting to question his involvement from the very beginning. What if she'd been wrong about him?

He'd gone to see her mother.

She was trapped miserably between her heart and mind as she closed her eyes, fought back the tears, opened them again and stared down at his features. But even with that debate still raging, she knew, deep in her heart, that he was the one. The love of her life. The happily-ever-after she'd never have. It didn't matter what he'd done or who he'd been before they'd been together. When he'd been hers, he'd been everything she'd ever wanted.

She held her breath as she leaned close to brush her lips softly over his. Just a whisper of a touch. Just one last kiss.

Through wet eyes she moved to climb off the bed.

And gasped.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

"I don't think so."

Kat's pulse jumped against her skin where Pete gripped her wrist. In the dark, he could see the whites of her eyes glow like halos all around her dark irises.

"Where do you think you're going?"

She opened her mouth to answer. Stared at him. Closed it quickly.

She hadn't thought he was awake, he realized. And granted, he hadn't been. Not until she'd laid her lips on his.

Then he'd come immediately awake. Had grown instantly aware.

She trembled beneath his touch. He sat up slowly, let his eyes adjust to the dark, raked in the sight of her there in front of him. Hair tousled from sleep, dirt-streaked, white T-shirt she hadn't rinsed out in the bathroom creased from where she'd slept on it. Eyes sultry and filled with a yearning he'd recognize anywhere.

His blood rushed hot in response even though he knew it was a bad idea.

She drew in shallow breaths, but she didn't once look away from him, didn't ease back, didn't try to get out of his hold. And he saw then the same thing he'd seen in the diner earlier. A decision that flashed in her eyes and sucked him in.

He knew that look.

Bad idea. Really f.u.c.king bad idea.

He let go of her wrist. Made a move to slide away from her. But didn't make it more than a fraction of an inch.

Her body sank into him. Her lips brushed his. Once. Twice. As soft as before but with an urgency he'd missed in his groggy state.

He tensed. Thought about pushing her away. Knew he couldn't.

Oh, sweet Jesus.

That heart he was sure had cracked and shattered years ago swelled inside his chest with the first taste. And shoving away the thousand reasons this was wrong, he let her draw him into her warm, wet mouth. Deep, deeper. Until he felt her body quiver, felt her firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s press against his bare chest, felt her muscles tighten and loosen and her heart jump beneath her ribs.