Hot Ice (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 7) (13 page)

“That’s what I came to say,” he told her. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Grace. It’s just that we weren’t right for each other. I’m happy now… and maybe you are too.”

“Oh yes, very happy,” Grace said. “How could I not be happy with this gorgeous man? We’re madly, passionately in love. It’s just incredible what the right chemistry can do.”

Jeffrey’s gaze flicked between them uncertainly. Then he stuck his hand out. “No hard feelings.”

She put her hand in his. There were absolutely no sparks whatsoever. Had it always been that way? “None at all. Guess I’ll see you around since you’ll be working for Daddy.”

“Yes, of course. Take care, Grace.”

“You too.”

Garrett shook his hand as well. “Good luck, buddy,” Garrett said. “And thanks again for being such a dumb ass. I mean no offense, but wow, you did me a huge favor when you and Grace split up.”

A few moments later, Jeffrey was taking the stairs down to the street, his hands shoved in his pockets as he turned and headed back to where he’d parked his car.

Garrett shut the door with a thud, and Grace stepped out of his embrace. It felt so nice standing there, but the whole thing was an act and she was determined not to be any more pitiful than she already felt.

“Damn, what a screwed-up day,” she said. “I think I’ll get drunk.”

Garrett grabbed her arm and spun her around as she was heading toward the kitchen and the wine fridge. His gunmetal eyes were soft and serious.

“Hey, you okay?”

She pulled in a deep breath. “Do I look okay to you?”

He put a hand on her cheek, slid it into her hair. Her body lit up like someone had set off a firecracker inside. Why was it so different when he touched her?

“You look pissed. And overwhelmed.”

She brought her hand up to grip his forearm, whether to push him away or hold him there she wasn’t sure. “I am pissed. And while I really appreciate what you did just now, unless you plan to follow through and take my mind completely off this day with some spectacular sex, you need to get the hell out of my way.”

He stared at her for a long minute, his eyes searching hers. Her heart beat fast and hard, and she actually prayed he would crush his mouth to hers and kiss her the way he had last night.

But then he swore and backed away, abruptly letting her go. “I can’t do that, Grace. I can’t cross that line.”

* * *

Garrett watched Grace stomp into the kitchen. But she didn’t get a drink. Instead, she took her bottle of water and her computer bag and headed upstairs, her cheeks red and her chin held high. He stood in the kitchen and blew out a breath when he heard her door slam.

Dammit, what the hell was he thinking? But he’d hated seeing her so wounded, hated the way she’d looked at that asshole when he’d told her he was getting married and going to work on her father’s campaign. The dude didn’t give a fuck about her. He only cared that
he
felt better about himself by coming to tell her in person.

It had nothing to do with Grace and everything to do with him.
Asshole
.

And what kind of father let his daughter’s ex-boyfriend work on his election campaign anyway? He didn’t fucking get that. If some dickhead hurt Cammie, Garrett would personally castrate the guy.

Well, maybe he wouldn’t go quite that far, but anyone who hurt his daughter would never get to do so again. Jeez, he didn’t even like to think of Cammie dating—but he knew it would happen one day, and probably a whole lot sooner than he was ready for.
 

And he had no idea how he was going to handle it. Just listening to her talk about having a boyfriend now—and the cute little notes they passed back and forth—made his gut churn. He’d asked Melissa if it was normal for a kid of nine to have a boyfriend, but she’d screamed at him and told him he was an asshole. He’d eventually figured out that it was indeed normal, thanks to his mom.

Garrett picked up his phone and called in to report what was going on. After his conversation with Grace earlier, he was wondering just how much Mendez knew about her work. But he didn’t get Mendez. He got Matt Girard.

They talked for a little while, and then he hung up and rechecked all the doors and windows. He looked out on the street, studying the cars and pedestrians. There was a lot of traffic during the day because Old Town was cool, with shops and restaurants and historic buildings to attract tourists.
 

But mostly there was nothing happening that was concerning. Still, he looked up at the ceiling and thought of Grace in her room, on her computer and no doubt angry. She said she was just a researcher, but the things she could do were terrifying when you stopped to think about it.
 

It was nearly three in the afternoon when his phone rang. It was too early for the next check-in, so he knew something had to be happening. He answered with a clipped “Spencer.”

“Iceman.” It was Mendez’s voice—and the colonel didn’t sound too pleased.
 

“Sir.”

“Everything going all right there, son?”

“Yes, sir. Fine.”

“Are you near a computer?”

Garrett picked up the laptop he’d put on the ottoman in the media room. “Yes, sir.”

“Please go to this site.” He rattled off an address, and Garrett got a bad feeling as he typed it in.

Sure enough, a picture of him—of him
kissing
Grace in the hotel last night—popped up on the screen.
Shit.

“It was part of the cover, sir,” he said. “She preferred me to look like her date, not her bodyguard.”

Which was true, but he could have done that without kissing her. He studied the picture, the way Grace’s arms were around his neck, the way his hands spread across the small of her back and brought her in closer.

Mendez blew out a breath. “Sometimes I think you boys need a testosterone suppressant. But that would defeat the purpose of making warriors out of you, so I guess I just have to put up with you letting your dicks do the thinking from time to time.”

Garrett wisely refrained from commenting.

“I get it, son, I really do. And I don’t doubt you thought it was a good idea at the time, but pictures of one of my soldiers with his tongue down a senator’s daughter’s throat is not a good thing for me, especially when the senator has eyes just the same as I do. But you’re there for a reason, and part of that reason is to fit in when you have to escort Grace Campbell to events. I’m not removing you—but you need to consider this a warning. I don’t want the senator coming down on me like a ton of bricks, so don’t make any more racy photos, got it?”

“Yes, sir.” He pressed the thumb and forefinger of one hand against his temples and rubbed.
 

“I understand you’ve been discussing Dr. Campbell’s work.”

“She told me what she’s been doing. I find it… worrisome.” That was a nice way of fucking putting it.

“It damn sure is. And that’s why we’re involved.”

“What about Ian Black, sir?”

“Black’s return is definitely interesting. We’re watching him. We may have to make a move soon, but until then, stay with Dr. Campbell—and keep her safe.”

“Copy, sir.”

After the call with Mendez, Garrett clicked through the website where the photo of him and Grace resided. There were no other pictures, thank goodness.

There wasn’t anything on this earth as fun as having your ass reamed by your commanding officer.
Not.

But that kiss was kinda worth it, he thought, as he flipped the laptop closed. And didn’t that just make him one crazy-ass motherfucker?

A couple of hours went by, and it grew dark. He hadn’t heard a word from Grace, but he knew she was still in her room because he heard her walking every once in a while. Then he heard her come downstairs. He got up and went into the kitchen to see if she was all right.

She was unscrewing a cap from a bottle of wine. She looked up as he walked in.

“A screw cap, princess?”

She gave the cap another twist and then poured red wine into a glass. “Are you a wine snob, Garrett?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he said, thinking of his mother and her obsession with everything classy.

She grabbed another glass and poured, then shoved the drink toward him. “Try it.”

“Not supposed to drink on duty. Screws with my aim.”

She rolled her eyes and lifted her own glass to her mouth. “Just have one sip then.”

He lifted the glass and swirled it. Then he smelled the bouquet and took a sip. He chewed the wine, letting air flow over it before swallowing. He could have spit, but it seemed rude since this wasn’t exactly a tasting.

“Not bad,” he told her.

She took a gulp of hers. “Told you. But even if it was bad, I don’t think I’d care tonight so long as it gets the job done.”

He frowned. “I really have to say that I’d prefer you not get shit-faced, Grace. It’s a whole lot harder to look out for a woman who needs to hang her head over the toilet.”

She laughed. “I won’t get shit-faced, I promise. I just need to mellow out a little bit.”

“And you think wine is the way to go?”

“Well, since sex is out…”

Fuck
. He’d set himself up for that one, hadn’t he?

“You don’t want to have sex with me. You’re just pissed that Godfrey got to you today.”

She looked like he’d slapped her. He didn’t like the way that made him feel inside.

But then she grinned and gave him a salute with the glass. “It’s Jeffrey, as you well know, and he didn’t get to me. Well, not much anyway. It was just a nice helping of shit on top of shit.”

Garrett leaned against the island and snorted. “Why, Dr. Campbell, I do believe hanging around with me is affecting your vocabulary. What was that you said about there being so many better words to use?”

“Bite me.” She pushed her hair behind her ear and bit her lip as if she was trying not to laugh.

“You better slow down on that glass, girlie. I’m not carrying your ass up those stairs.”

She took another gulp as if to say
screw you
. And then she laughed. “Lazy fucker.”

Something inside him tightened when she said
fuck
. Quite possibly because she sounded so damn prim and proper—and the word definitely wasn’t. What would it be like to have her whisper it in his ear while he slid deep inside her?

“Geez, Grace, if you don’t stop swearing, I’m going to end up losing my job when this is over. Because you’ll be ruined for all public appearances, and I’ll get the blame.”

“Aw, poor baby.” She sniffed and straightened, trying to look serious. But then she giggled again. “Maybe I’ll hire you full time. You can be my bodyguard-slash-pool-boy.”

“You don’t have a pool.”

“Then I’ll have to get one.” She finished her glass and then took the one she’d poured for him and started on that one. “I bet you’d look great in a Speedo.”

He snorted. “Not happening, cupcake. No way in hell am I sticking my junk in a banana hammock and parading around in public.”

She burst out laughing. “Banana hammock? I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before.”

“It’s not that funny, Grace.”
 

She was starting to wheeze. She nodded her head and reached into a drawer, taking out a dish towel so she could mop her face. He had no idea why she found it so amusing, but he was kind of glad she did. Had to take her mind off Jeffrey and her job, at least for a few minutes.
 

He liked the sound of her laugh. It made him grin, even though he was trying to be stern with her. He didn’t really think she was all that drunk, but the alcohol had definitely taken a little of the starch out of her.

“Imagining you…” She gasped before having another fit of giggles.
 

He didn’t want to know what she was imagining. Him and bananas. Or worse.

“Oh my God,” she finally said when the giggles stopped. She was still grinning, and her face was wet where she’d been crying from laughing so hard. “Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome.” He wanted to reach for her, pull her into his arms, and kiss her until they both forgot their names. She was so damn pretty when she was happy. And sweet. There was just something innocently sweet about Grace Campbell.

She sucked in a breath and picked up her glass and the bottle. “I think I’m going to take a bath now.”

He eyed the wine. “Don’t drown, Grace. Your father won’t be happy with me if you do.”

“I’ll be fine, banana man.”
 

Then she sashayed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He shook his head and cleaned up the wine drops she’d spilled on the white marble counter. He heard the water running upstairs, and then it stopped and he forced the image of a naked Grace sinking into the tub from his mind.

Not very successfully, it turned out, as his dick started to harden. Maybe he should go to his room and get reacquainted with his hand. Or maybe he should ignore the urge and go watch the football game.

He was still trying to decide what to do for the evening when Grace screamed.