Read Hot and Steamy for Free Online Page B

ever-so-slightly, and returned to the page.
    Jameson was not willing to give up the opportunity to speak with someone interested in his passion for Egyptian antiquities. “That’s the best book on ancient artifacts ever written,” he blurted.
    â€œI agree, Professor Watts.”
    â€œH–h–how is it that you know my name?” He didn’t bother to hide the surprise in his voice.
    â€œDon’t be silly, Professor Watts, everyone on this steamer knows who you are.” She tossed her head and offered her dainty hand. “Miss Sinclair Upchurch. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
    Her fingers were pleasantly warm to the touch, and he held them longer than proper. His chest grew tight and his mouth went instantly dry. Still, he managed to work up enough saliva so he could speak. “Join me for supper, Miss Upchurch? Seven o’clock, my private table?” After a moment, he added, “Please.”
    â€œThat would be lovely.” She promptly lowered her eyes to the book.
    He released a breath he’d been holding and took in another filled with the essence of her, the sweet mellow fragrance of sandalwood and vanilla.
    When he returned to his cabin something felt out of place, but nothing seemed to be missing. His satchel, research papers, and other valuables were as he’d left them. I should never clean my desk, he thought, and vowed not to make that mistake again. He might have investigated further were he not so preoccupied with the notion of dining with the marvelous Miss Sinclair Upchurch.
    That evening when Sinclair arrived, Jameson jumped to his feet to welcome her and pulled out a chair. While she arranged her voluminous satin skirt the waiter stood at attention.
    â€œI’ll have a sherry,” she said sweetly.
    â€œThe usual for you, Mr. Watts?”
    â€œYes, thank you, Finley.” Jameson’s eyes never left his guest.
    Moments later the black-vested waiter offered the woman a small glass of sherry, which she delicately sipped as she watched Jameson concoct his. He poured a pale green liquid from a cruet onto a sugar cube held by a fine slotted silver spoon, and followed this with a splash of water. He raised his small crystal glass, “to Egypt.”
    â€œSo I can see you’ve been bitten by the green fairy, Professor Watts.”
    â€œI must admit I love this stuff more than I should. But I feel it focuses the mind in a way that nothing else can.” He took another sip, savoring both the licorice essence and the presence of this beautiful woman.
    â€œTo Egypt,” she echoed. “I love Egypt.”
    He fought for breath. Jameson had never met another whose love of Egypt equaled his.
    â€œI would live there, I think,” she continued. “So I could be near the pyramids and the Nile.”
    Jameson felt his skin flush and he stared at her hands, making sure there was no wedding band or promise ring. Dare he hope . . .
    The waiter presented a tureen of fish chowder, followed by roast venison and creamed peas, but the couple was so lost in conversation about Egypt and each other that they barely touched their meals. The other diners had gone; the room was now dim; the candles inside the hurricane lamps had nearly all burned out. The couple didn’t seem to notice the blackberry cordial and lemon chess tarts on a silver tray in the middle of the table.
    A massive brass chandelier suspended above added a warm glow to the rich cherry paneling and reflected bits of light around them like stars.
    None brighter than her eyes, Jameson thought. Her lilac gown was the color of his mother’s favorite flower.
    It was nearly midnight when Jameson felt a familiar flutter. He pulled his watch-communicator from his vest pocket and read the coded dispatch while Sinclair craned her neck to look at the device.
    â€œImportant message?”
    â€œJust my captain,” he sighed.
    â€œProfessor Watts . . . how many books have