Hot Ice (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 7) (9 page)

The house was quiet after the noise of the ballroom and the tension in the car when Flash was listening in. He almost felt like he could breathe again.

Almost, but not quite.

Grace stood in her kitchen in her pretty black dress, her shoulders bare where her wrap had slipped down to reveal skin. Her strappy little shoes were sexy as hell, and she somehow managed to look sweetly pretty and damn uncertain of herself at the same time.

“Why don’t you go change? You’ll be more comfortable eating pizza in something that’s not cinched around your body like that dress.”

She disappeared, her shoes tapping on the stairs as she went up. He let out the breath he’d been holding and loosened his tie. Then he followed her up the stairs, heading for the guest room where he was staying.

Her door opened as he took the last step onto the landing. She was standing there in her dress, her feet bare this time. She was shorter now, not quite on eye level with him like she was when wearing those heels.

“Brooke zipped me into this dress,” she said, her voice smooth and soft. “I can’t get it undone.”

Fuck
. Garrett walked over to her door, and she turned around. The light from the lamps in the hallway spilled onto her shoulders. Her skin gleamed so pale and white—and so beautiful, like silk in the soft glow of the lamps.

He wanted to lower his mouth to her skin and lick it.
 

Instead, he reached for her zipper, tugged it slowly down her back while his dick throbbed in response. He tugged it farther than he needed to for her to reach it, but once he started, he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to keep going, wanted to see what kind of panties she was wearing, but he stopped when he reached the small of her back, his fingers almost shaking with the effort.

His gaze slid over the skin he’d revealed. He’d thought she might be wearing a strapless bra, but her back was smooth and bare, and his cock grew harder at the thought of her breasts released from their confinement.

She didn’t move, and he couldn’t. But then she shot him a quizzical look over her shoulder.

“The hook?”

Garrett dragged his gaze to the back of the dress. Of course, the fucking hook. He’d released her from the dress, but he’d left it hooked at the top. He took both sides of the dress, the backs of his fingers brushing against her skin, and worked the hook free.

The dress fell open, revealing much more of her back than he’d already seen, but she spun around, holding it up to her chest. Her eyes were wide as they met his.

“Thank you.”

He had to clear his throat. “Anytime.”

She gave him a smile and then closed the door in his face. He hobbled his way to his room, his body aching with thwarted need, and briefly considered jerking off before going back downstairs to eat pizza with her.

Or maybe he should just stay right here. Keep away from the temptation altogether. Part of him wanted to laugh—
temptation?
Since when had Grace Campbell gone from spoiled pain in the ass to temptation?

In the end, he changed out of his tux, dragged on jeans and a T-shirt, and made a quick call to Matt Girard to report about seeing Ian Black tonight. He knew Richie would pass it on to Mendez. Then he went back downstairs to find the pizza box gone and the sound of a television coming from the media room. He walked inside to find her curled on one end of the couch, a paper plate with a slice of pizza on it in her hand, and a movie starting on the screen.

He grabbed his own slice and went to the opposite end of the couch. “What’s the movie?”

“I don’t know. Something with explosions.”

Garrett propped his feet on the ottoman and lifted the slice to his lips. Explosions. Just what he wanted right now.

* * *

She’d debated the wisdom of staying downstairs and sharing a pizza with her bodyguard, but she’d really wanted the pizza—and she’d wanted the oblivion of a movie.

Grace colored as she ate and stared at the screen. Who was she kidding? She’d wanted to be near him.

And that annoyed her very much, because he’d made it clear she was just a job. He’d kissed her to chase Jeffrey away, nothing more. And then he’d unzipped her dress, his fingers brushing her skin and driving her insane, but he’d never once made an inappropriate remark or gesture.

She’d told Brooke this man wouldn’t be interested in her, and she was right.

And really, wasn’t that the way it was supposed to be? She was not the sort of woman who jumped into bed with a man just because he looked good and smelled good and made her heart race with a sardonic look and a light touch.

Or a soul-searing kiss.

No, not at all.

The bad guys set off an explosion, and the hero and heroine raced to escape the burning building. They made it just in time, jumping into the water and swimming away.
 

In the next scene, they were in a hotel room, looking very serious and arguing about what came next. And then the hero kissed the heroine—and all bets were off.

Clothes flew, and the actors did a very convincing job of playing two people who were desperate for each other. The hero slid down the heroine’s body, burying his face between her legs.

The actress looked as if she were in ecstasy, biting her lip, moaning and crying out. The scene was erotic and so very hot.

Grace squirmed, her face heating. She didn’t dare to look over at Garrett. She could see him sitting very still at his end of the couch, a solid block of unmoving stone.

The scene cut to the characters in bed together, the hero moving frantically over the heroine, his buttocks pumping, her legs wrapped around him, their groans rising with the music in the background. Sweat rolled down their bodies, glistening over her nipples and throat, over his toned chest.

Grace swallowed hard.
Oh my.

Had it ever been that frantic, that hot, between her and Jeffrey? Her and
anyone?

The characters rolled, and then the heroine was bouncing up and down on top of the hero, her breasts jiggling, her eyes rolling back in her head as she made little mewling noises.

Garrett rocketed to his feet so fast that Grace let out a little scream.

He was staring down at her, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nostrils flaring.

“It’s late and I’m tired,” he said, his voice sounding like sandpaper grating over iron. “Don’t leave the house for any reason, got it?”

She nodded, her heart still pounding as he strode from the room and up the stairs.
 

CHAPTER SIX

GARRETT WAS DOING PUSH-UPS when there was a knock on the bedroom door. He paused, thought about ignoring her, but then decided he couldn’t really do that. What if she needed something?

He got up and wiped his chest with the T-shirt he’d removed and tossed it on the floor, then strode over in his bare feet and yanked the door open.

Grace stood there in her baggy T-shirt and black stretchy pants, her hair still piled on her head, her blue eyes widening when she took in his bare chest and all the ink there. Yeah, he’d gone a little crazy with ink, but he liked that his body was a canvas. The pain of the tattoo artist’s needle beat the hell out of punching something when he was pissed off or hung up on something that had happened out in the field.

It was a kind of therapy for him, at least temporarily.

“I… um, I wanted to say I was sorry.”

“For what?”

Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I’ve clearly upset you somehow. It wasn’t intentional.”

He dragged in a breath. “Grace, you haven’t upset me.”

Her eyes met his again. “But the way you left… I, uh, I’ve made you uncomfortable. I should have changed the channel.”

He could only gape at her. “You think I was uncomfortable because of the movie?”

“Weren’t you? It was rather, um, suggestive at that point…”

He couldn’t figure her out. “Wait a minute… You think I was offended or something? That this is like, I dunno, an EEO issue? Sexual harassment?”

Red tinged her cheeks. “Well, maybe. Why not? This is a job, and you shouldn’t have to put up with suggestive material just because it’s there.”

He wanted to laugh. Wanted to fucking double over and howl until he couldn’t breathe. But that wouldn’t work, because she’d just think he was insane.

“Aren’t you the one who wondered if I knew the first thing about sexual harassment earlier today?”

She wouldn’t look at him. “Well, I…”

He shook his head. “Go to bed, Grace. Forget it.”

Because that’s what he was trying to do. Trying like hell to forget the way she’d been squirming during that scene, the way she kept cutting her eyes toward him when she thought he couldn’t see her. She’d been horny—and hell, he’d been horny too. So fucking horny he’d wanted to drag her down on that couch and taste her until they were both so sated they couldn’t stand again.

But even if he hadn’t been ordered not to get involved with her, it wasn’t a good idea. She was a senator’s daughter, a scientist, and he was a guy with a fucked-up history, an ex-wife who hated him, and a daughter he adored above all else.
 

And Grace Campbell wasn’t the kind of woman you fucked and then walked away from after one night. She was too refined for that, too uncertain of herself. He knew that much after her reaction over Jeffrey and the hurt in her voice when she’d told him that Jeffrey had dumped her. She didn’t need his fucked-up shit in her life, even if it was just for one hot night.

But even that wasn’t possible, because he couldn’t walk away tomorrow. There would be no hitting it and quitting it with this woman, no matter how turned on he was by the juxtaposition of her shyness and the way she’d turned to flame when he’d kissed her.

Fuck… that had been one ill-advised move. He’d just wanted to make her feel good, wanted to make her ex go away like he’d promised. He hadn’t intended to kiss her the way he had. It was supposed to be for show—but the show had gotten out of control.

“It’s fine, Grace,” he said when she didn’t respond. “I’m not offended that you didn’t change the channel, okay?”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

And now she sounded all starchy and uptight, like she thought he wasn’t being straight with her. Hell.

“The pizza was good,” he said. “And the movie was just what I like. But, uh, there’s a line that can’t be crossed between a protector and protectee. It was better I left.”

She blinked at him, her eyes so wide and surprised as she processed what he was saying. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Does that mean—”

His phone cut through anything she started to say. Only one person had that ringtone. He turned and grabbed the phone off the table where he’d left it, sliding the bar before putting it to his ear.

“Cammie, sweetheart, how’s my favorite girl in the whole world?”

He glanced up, expecting to see Grace still in his doorway. But she was gone. His gut tightened, but he told himself it was for the best. He didn’t need her standing here with her wide eyes and her wounded look, making him feel like shit for not taking her in his arms and holding her close. Making him want to make it better for her when there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do that would.

He walked over and shut the door, then sat down on the bed and listened to his daughter tell him about her day.

* * *

Ryan Gordon sat on the couch in Georgie Hayes’s house and watched the evening news. Senator Campbell was all over it, along with his daughter and his family. But the media was currently focusing on Grace and her job at the laboratory.
 

He watched the video of the protestors and grimaced at the idea of taking her to work anytime soon. But she was going to want to go, and Iceman was going to have his hands full when she did.

Better Ice than him.

Who’d have guessed that Iceman had all those fancy manners and shit? Dude could dance a waltz and all that stuff. Put him in a tuxedo, and he looked like a frigging stockbroker or something.

And there he was, escorting Grace from the hotel tonight. There’d been a few reporters left, but they hadn’t gotten close. Still, they’d clearly been filming. Ice looked like a moody sports star leaving an event with his prim secretary.

The reporter took that moment to speculate on the relationship between Grace Campbell and the man at her side, and Ryan thought Ice would probably blow a gasket when he saw this. Grace was pretty and all that, but she was way too proper for a dude like Iceman. She looked like she probably liked to have sex in the dark, missionary style and nothing else.

Considering Ryan had once knocked on Ice’s hotel room door only to find him in bed with two women, Ryan didn’t think vanilla missionary was his style.

Ryan’s phone dinged and he picked it up. His fingers tightened on the phone when he saw who it was. All thoughts of Ice and Grace Campbell fled.
 

He shouldn’t answer her texts, he knew he shouldn’t, but for some reason he couldn’t stop. She felt like he was someone she could talk to. Maybe because he didn’t judge her. Or maybe because he was still very much a stranger to her, and she was still so twisted up about what had happened in her life.