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

“I understand.”

He didn’t say another word, and she lapsed into an awkward silence because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Soon they arrived at the hotel, and the car pulled up beneath the covered entrance. The press was there, cameras flashing and video running as reporters thrust microphones into people’s faces.

“Breathe, Grace,” a stern voice ordered, and she looked over at Garrett to see him frowning at her. “Let’s find another way in.”

The driver stepped on the gas, and they rolled away from the crowd of reporters and around the building. There was a barricade at the rear entrance, however, and they came to a stop.

“Stay here.” Garrett swung open the door and strolled over to talk with a police officer standing near the barricade. A few moments later he was back and opening her door. “We’re going in through the loading dock.”

She slipped her hand into his as he helped her to the street. It was the first time her bare skin had touched his. There was an awareness that rolled through her, a fiery prickle of heat that slid along her neural pathways at that simple touch.

She told herself it was nerves, but it didn’t abate as he pulled her closer and tucked her against his side. She pulled her wrap tighter and hurried up the stairs of the loading dock and into the building. The back hallways were tiled rather than carpeted, and the walls were industrial white.

Soon, however, he was slipping through another door and into the posh levels of the hotel. Here the carpet was plush, the walls paneled in mahogany, with two-story chandeliers dripping with Austrian crystals hanging in the grand foyer.

He drew her up short at the top of the stairs leading to the benefit her father was throwing. “I’ll tell you like my mama always told me,” he began. “If you’re feeling afraid, picture them in their underwear. It’s not polite, but it works.”

Grace took a deep breath and tried to smile. “You must think me ridiculous. I grew up in this world, and I know how to behave. But I can never shake off the nerves at the beginning of an event. I’ll be fine when I hit my stride.”

His eyes dipped to her chest, back up to her face. His voice, when he spoke, was low and sexy. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

Her heart skittered, and her palms started to sweat. He had to be kidding her—or distracting her. There was no other explanation.
 

But before she could respond, she heard her mother’s voice call out. “Grace, darling, there you are.”

Grace turned. Her mother was elegant, as always, dressed in a floor-length turquoise gown that probably came from Valentino or Gucci. It was simple in its construction but utterly stunning on Helena.

“Darling,” her mother said, taking her hands and air-kissing both her cheeks. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“I said I’d be here, Mother.”

Helena patted her hand. “I know you did, Gracie, but I also know how single-minded you can be when you’re working. Just like your father.” She turned toward Garrett. “And who is this gentleman, darling?”

“Mother, this is Garrett Spencer.” She refused to say he was her bodyguard even though her mother no doubt knew it.
 

Garrett took her mother’s offered hand in his. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

Helena gave him a once-over. “Are you dangerous, Mr. Spencer?”

“Mother!”

Garrett only laughed. “I am indeed, ma’am. Dangerous
and
accurate. Your daughter is in good hands.”

“Excellent.” Helena gave him her most dazzling smile as she took his arm and then reached for Grace. “Now come, you two—let’s get this dog and pony show started, shall we?”

* * *

He hadn’t forgotten his manners. His mother would be so proud. As if he’d even thought it possible considering he’d had it drummed into him from birth to the day he’d left home and gone to college.

Garrett stayed close to Grace as she circulated. She underwent a metamorphosis when they entered the room. He was still amazed at her transformation. From nervous and afraid, she’d blossomed into cool and confident. But he knew it was an act, a façade she slipped into out of practice and not because it was natural to her.

She smiled and chatted with the people who kept coming up to congratulate her on her father’s run or ask about her research.

It was all over the news and there were bound to be questions, but the questions hadn’t been too off the wall just yet. Obviously, the people at this event weren’t reporters. And Grace handled it all with a veneer of calm.

She wasn’t at all what she appeared on the surface. She hated crowds and strangers, and she liked to hide in her room away from people. He figured she probably liked her job because it involved working with microscopic organisms rather than people for the most part.

“No, Mrs. Carter, we aren’t making superviruses at Magnolia Labs. I’m a geneticist focusing on biotech applications in order to make our lives better, not worse. It’s all very ordinary research, I promise you.”

He didn’t know how many times she’d said some variant of this speech, but at one point during one of these explanations, he caught her looking across the room, her eyes widening a fraction.

He glanced in the direction she’d been looking. A man was staring at her. He was about six feet tall, brown hair, and thin. He made no effort to hide the fact he was staring until a woman walked up and put her hand on his arm. He glanced down at her—and then smiled and began to talk as if nothing was wrong.

“Who is that man?” Garrett asked when Grace extricated herself from the latest conversation.
 

Her gaze snapped to his, her blue eyes wide. He liked the way her eyes looked when she wasn’t wearing glasses. So pretty and expressive.

“What man?”

“The one who was staring at you. The one you reacted to when you saw him.”

She broke eye contact, studying her wineglass instead. She’d barely touched it in the past hour. “Oh, that’s Jeffrey. My ex-boyfriend. I was surprised to see him.”

“Good surprised or bad surprised?”

She laughed softly. “Considering he broke up with me, I can’t say I’m happy to see him here.”

Garrett lifted his head and found Jeffrey. The man was still talking to the same woman, but every once in a while he glanced in their direction. Garrett figured if good ol’ Jeffrey could get away from the woman, he’d be on his way over here.

“So what do you want to happen when he eventually makes his way over and speaks to you?”

Grace’s pupils widened. Clearly, she hadn’t realized her ex was planning to come talk to her. “If you could take him down to the floor and make him cry like a baby, that would be great.”

Garrett snorted. He hadn’t expected that answer, but he rather liked it.
 

“Well, I could, but I don’t think that’s the vibe your father is going for tonight.”

Grace crossed her arms over her middle. It had the effect of lifting her breasts up and pushing them closer together. He liked that very much. She didn’t have large breasts, but what she did have was definitely appealing.

In fact, the whole package was more appealing than he’d thought when he first met her. She was tall and willowy—and when she took off her glasses, her face was softer and prettier than when she looked so serious and circumspect.

She sighed as if she were incredibly put-upon. “Fine, I suppose you’re right. My mother would not approve of bloodshed—unless it was done to protect me from an assassin, I suppose.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “So what
can
you do to ensure I don’t have to speak to him?”

He didn’t know why he’d offered to protect her from an uncomfortable encounter, but he hadn’t liked the look in her eyes when she’d said her ex had dumped her.
 

“I’ll keep him away.”

Her gaze slid to the side and then back again. There was a sparkle in her eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Just don’t act like a bodyguard, for heaven’s sake.”

“I haven’t yet.”

“No, you haven’t. And I appreciate it.”

He shrugged. It didn’t take a genius to realize she wanted to be seen at an important event with a date rather than a bodyguard. He hadn’t overplayed it, but he had stayed close and kept his hand against her back when necessary. He’d also gotten her drinks and stood by her side while she spoke with her father’s donors. He wasn’t supposed to get involved with her, but pretending to be her date wasn’t involved.

He’d engaged in polite chitchat from time to time, and he’d pretended not to notice the curious looks. No one had asked outright if he was Grace’s date. But he knew he’d been chosen for this assignment because he could blend, not because he was supposed to look like obvious muscle. So blend he would.

Until someone tried to harm her.
 

Grace glanced at the slim gold watch she wore. “We’ve only been here an hour, for heaven’s sake.”

“Are you ready to leave?”

“I was ready before we arrived.” She sighed. “But I have to stay.”

He put his hand against her back and steered her toward the door.
 

“Where are we going?”

“No one says you can’t slip away for a few minutes and catch your breath.”

He guided her out the door and down the hall to a small seating area. No one was in it, and Grace sank onto the overstuffed couch like a wilting flower.
 

“Oh, the quiet. It’s nice.”

“It’s not that quiet,” he said, sitting beside her. The dull sound of conversation drifted down the hall, and there was also the chatter of hotel employees as they came and went.

“Quieter than inside the ballroom.”

“So you don’t like crowds and noise. Must have been challenging growing up in your household.”

She frowned. There was a tiny line in her forehead that became more pronounced when she did that. “If left to my own devices, I’d probably never talk to a soul. So it’s a good thing I was forced to learn how to do so at a young age. This world does not reward the quiet and the bookish.”

He tilted his head. “How so? I’d think being studious was a good thing.”

“Oh, it definitely is. But then you have to be able to temper the studious side with a side that’s interactive, gregarious—those are the qualities of a leader in our estimation. Our world rewards outgoing people more so than people who’d rather be by themselves. Look at how we teach kids in school—we reward the ones who ask questions and give answers in a group setting, but the quiet ones who are too shy to speak up, we think they need to be fixed somehow.”

He’d never thought of it that way, but yeah, he could remember the kids who never put up their hands or who stammered and blushed when called upon to give an answer in front of the class. He’d known it was torture for them, but he hadn’t understood why.

“You were the kid who was terrified to speak up.”

She gave him a soft smile. She really was very pretty when she did that. “Most definitely. My parents put me in therapy for it, in fact. In my family of outgoing swans, I’m the ugly duckling who’s terrified of her own shadow.”

“You aren’t an ugly duckling, Grace.”

“You haven’t seen my sisters.”

No, he hadn’t, but he still didn’t believe they could outshine her that much. She had a certain light about her, a certain beauty and vulnerability that set all his protective instincts on high alert.
 

Looking at her now, he had a sudden urge to reach out and unpin her hair. He wanted to see how long it was, wanted to see the dark cloud of it falling over her shoulders and caressing her bare skin.

“Stop fishing for compliments,” he said, annoyed with his thoughts—and with her for being so blind to her assets.

Her eyes widened and she pressed her hand to her chest. It’s what his mama called a “pearl pressing” moment—when a lady put a hand to the pearls around her neck in surprise or horror.

“I most certainly was not fishing for compliments.”

She sounded so horrified that he almost laughed. But then she shot to her feet and started for the hallway.
 

Garrett was on her heels in an instant, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. “What the fuck, Grace?”

Her gaze went over his shoulder, then back to his face. “It’s Jeffrey,” she whispered, and he felt a hot wash of relief. He’d thought he’d hurt her with his comment and that she was running away from him. An ex-boyfriend he could deal with.

“Grace?”
 

The voice came from down the hall, moving toward them, and Grace’s eyes widened with hurt and panic. He didn’t know what this Jeffrey had done to her, but he didn’t like it.

“Make him go away,” she said softly. “Please.”

It was the please that undid him. “I can do that, cupcake—but you have to trust me, okay?”

She nodded. And then her eyes widened as he cupped her jaw in both his hands and tilted her face up to his. He took a step nearer, closing the distance between their bodies—and then he lowered his mouth to hers and took her lips in a searing kiss.

CHAPTER FIVE

TRUST HIM, HE’D SAID. Grace’s heart pounded as her hands came up to grip his biceps—whether to hold on for dear life or push him away, she wasn’t sure.