His Purrfect Mate by Georgette St. Clair Read Free Book Online Page A

against hers.  She was so startled that she didn’t protest…her lips parted, and she accepted as his mouth claimed hers.  He tasted like the whisky he’d been sipping earlier, smoky and intoxicating. 
    His tongue swept through her mouth, caressing, probing. 
    She felt herself melting into him, with a sense of rightness and belonging that she’d never experienced before. She never wanted the kiss to end. He was ravishing her mouth, conquering it like a pirate, leading her tongue in a slow, sensual dance, and it felt delicious…He was so warm, so strong…how could she ever tear herself away from this embrace?
    What was this sorcery that made her feel exactly as if this man was her fated mate? Of course he couldn’t be. The coincidence would be too bizarre.
    She pressed her hand up agai nst his chest, against the pleated white tuxedo shirt. Beneath it, his chest was broad and rock solid, a wall of muscle.  Her entire body tingled with pleasure, and she felt a throbbing between her legs, a deep hunger and a need to be filled by him, only by him.
    His muscular arm tightened against her waist and pressed her up against him as if he wanted to meld with her, and she let out a little whimper of pleasure deep in her throat, and heard a responding growl rumbling up from his chest.
    And suddenly it occurred to her – why her grandmother had gone crazy. To have this, and then to have it snatched away, and worse, to find out it was all a cruel lie –
    And surely this must be a lie. A man like Kenneth wouldn’t be her fated mate. His fated mate would be like him, sleek and sophisticated and self-confident , a ruler of the jungle, not some nearsighted, stammering cat that tripped over its own paws. If he was kissing her, it was because he wanted something from her.
    Summoning up the last reserves of her rapidly fading willpower, she wrenched herself from his arms and stepped backward.   It hurt; it was like ripping off a band-aid, and where she’d felt warm and safe in his arms, now she felt cold and empty.
    All the more reason to get this over with and get away from this dangerous man.
    “Why do you keep calling me and asking me to work for you? Why me, of all the experts in the world?” she demanded. “I know I’m very good at what I do, but there are many others who are equally as good and who’d jump at the chance to work for you.”
    He looked down at her, his eyes glazed with passion – or pretend passion.  That must be it. A man like him would be able to fake any emotion to get what he wanted.
    “Are you sure you want to talk about this now?” his voice was husky with desire. Could he really be faking it? Could he stir so much raw passion in her without feeling it himself?
    His grandfather had done it, she forced herself to remember.
    “Yes.” Her voice trembled in the cold night air, and she hugged herself.
    “All right.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You are a world-renowned expert on the culture of Sumer. There have been several break-ins at homes that I own in Europe, where I have artwork displayed. There have been brutal assaults on the employees who live in my houses; one of them is in the hospital still, unresponsive, not expect to recover.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that.” She stared up at him, baffled. “But what does this have to do with me?”
    “All of the artwork that they took was ancient Sumerian statuary, from a time period circa 3000 B.C.  In every case.”
    Her heart pounded in her chest.
    That sounded very much like the artwork that Kenneth’s grandfather had stolen from her grandmother right before he dumped her, so many years ago. Could her grandmother somehow be stealing it back now, perhaps having hired people to do it for her?
    “This particular collection of artwork has never been catalogued before.  I’m not sure why; just about everything else that my grandfather collec ted has very thorough documentation.  I want you to come with me to my house in