Stolen Heat by Elisabeth Naughton Page A

movements, he set the pen he’d been holding on the stack of papers at his side and regarded her like a lion tamer considering the foolishness of trying to coax a fresh steak from his growling pet. “You’re going to have to explain that one for me. I’m a little behind.”
    “I’m getting at that. ” She pointed to the bedroom, then lifted her arms to indicate the entire room. “And this. Why did you bring me here? It’s pretty clear it’s not because you’re dying to jump into bed with me.”
    “Whoa. Wait a minute.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw and had the audacity to look amused. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea.”
    “Oh, no, I have the very right idea. A woman knows when a man’s not attracted to her, so don’t talk to me like I’m stupid. Just come out and say what it is you want from me and stop playing these games.”
    He rose from his seat, the leather creaking beneath him, and hesitantly stepped toward her. “What makes you think I’m not attracted to you?”
    “A woman knows.”
    “How?” His eyes were soft and hypnotic through those lenses, and she fought to keep her common sense in check. “Tell me how you know, specifically, that I’m not interested, Kat.”
    She crossed her arms over her chest. “For one, you haven’t touched me once today.”
    “I didn’t want to startle you. You’ve looked a little nervous.”
    “You barely touched me the night we had dinner either.”
    “True. But not for the reasons you’re thinking.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “There’s not a sexy thing in that closet of designer labels you bought.”
    “In the first place, I didn’t buy them. I happen to have a…friend who’s got an in with some of those designers. And in the second, I disagree. Those clothes might not look sexy on the rack, but I’m willing to bet on you they’re amazing.”
    He was throwing her off with those lusty looks, but she knew she was right. There was something about Peter Kauffman that just didn’t add up. “A guy who’s interested in a woman acts like he’s interested.”
    He smiled then, a slow and confident grin that turned her insides to Jell-O, but he didn’t so much as respond.
    Her stomach tightened. “And it’s obvious you aren’t staying in that room you pushed me into because there’s nothing of yours in there.”
    “Do you want something of mine in there?”
    Kat faltered, and he saw it. She hated the fact he was getting to her like this when she knew better. She lifted her chin. “That’s not the point.”
    “I think it’s exactly the point.” He moved closer until she felt the heat radiating from his body, but she refused to let him intimidate her, so she didn’t step back. “In fact, I think the point here is that I’m different from the other men you’ve been with, and it’s confusing you.”
    He was absolutely right about that. He was completely different, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.
    “I know that shouldn’t thrill me,” he went on, “but I can’t help it. Because you’re completely different from the women I’ve been interested in, too, and in my defense, I haven’t known exactly how to deal with that.”
    She watched in slow motion as he ran his finger down the length of her sleeve. Even through the thick terry her skin tingled.
    “As for not touching you.” He shook his head. “I’ve been dying to touch you since the first second I laid eyes on you.”
    He lifted the finger that had just stroked her arm and pointed over his shoulder toward a door she hadn’t noticed behind him. “This suite has two bedrooms. My suitcase is in there. I didn’t want to put any pressure on you.”
    He took off his glasses, and when he looked down at her she was hit with the full impact of those stormy, suddenly serious eyes. “I don’t live here, Kat. I’m based out of Miami where my gallery’s growing like a toddler. I get to Cairo maybe three, four times a year on buying trips or when a colleague calls with