Ice Cold (45 page)

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Authors: Cherry Adair

Tags: #Romance, #Suspense, #FICTION/Suspense

BOOK: Ice Cold
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Ridiculous to sit on the edge of her chair, her toes curled and her belly knotted. Honey wished she’d asked some of the women to join them for dinner but knew that would just prove she was too chicken to enjoy an intimate meal and make small talk with a man she wanted so desperately she ached. Crazy in love. Her palms dampened and she twisted her napkin. As lusty—and as nervous—as a teenager with her first boyfriend.

Head over heels for a man known as the Spanish Stallion. For good reason. She knew he cared for her but love? After what had happened with Rachel, she wouldn’t be surprised if the idea of love had him running from her bed as fast as he could go. In fact, she was still surprised that he’d come back to her house instead of catching a plane to—wherever.

She changed into black silk pants and a modest, black silk tunic, chunky gold jewelry glinted at her throat and ears, and a thick gold and onyx bracelet circled her wrist, hiding a set of fingerprint bruises from the confrontation in her lab. She Didn’t want to look as though she was trying too hard. But she wanted to look more than good for him.

She caught herself wishing it were possible to force a man to love you at gunpoint.
Oh great; I’m turning into Catherine.
The thought had the effect of a cold shower, for which she was grateful. But she knew the moment of calm was fleeting at best.

“I have something for you,” he told her, his eyes gleaming in the light of the candles that Bianca and Cindi had arranged on the table in the breakfast room. The setting was sweetly romantic, and she bet Navarro was uncomfortable as hell. Did he think
she
thought this could be more than it really was?

“I’m not crazy about surprises.” They were usually unpleasant.

Getting up from the table, he held out his hand. “You’ll like this one. Promise.”

Honey got to her feet, slipping her hand into his. It was a mistake, because the feel of his warm, calloused fingers closing around hers made her chest ache and her eyes smart. Emotions too powerful to hide for much longer beat against her chest like the wings of caged birds. Maybe she should have said good-bye back at HQ earlier. No messy emotions, no prolonged farewells. Two professionals at the end of an op. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Navarro.”

The house was quiet. No one around as they walked through the great room. Only someone who knew what it had looked like before it was shot to hell would see any of the damage. Now it was clean and almost back to normal, sans a chandelier. The faint, lingering fragrance of lemon-scented soap and furniture polish was soothing, peaceful. Neither of them spoke as they crossed the room, remembering what had happened there only hours before. Their boot heels echoed on the planked floor.

Honey watched their progress in the picture windows as they passed from room to room then headed down the corridor to her private quarters.

She said a prayer that he’d leave while she slept, because watching him go would kill her. She pushed open the door to the bedroom then stopped dead in the doorway. God! Was the house on fire? She narrowed her eyes to take in the sight of drifts of candles, flickering lights on every flat surface. Too fairy-tale to be real, too romantic to be dismissed.

She turned to him slowly. “You did this?”

He smiled, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “I had a lot of help from your house elves. You like?”

“It’s . . . it’s absolutely beautiful.” The flickering lights shimmered as she viewed them through the moisture in her eyes. The magical room smelled of flowers, with a hint of promise.

A cheerful fire blazed in the fireplace, and her bed, crisp white sheets folded down, seemed to take up a lot of space across the room. Scattered across the surface were not rose petals, but large, glorious, pink peony blooms, their clean, fresh scent intoxicating as it mingled with aroma from the beeswax candles and the smell of wood smoke.

Rafael tugged her across the plush area rug to stand beside the high poster bed. She had never had a man in this bed, had never
wanted
any man here, not until Navarro. Her heart beat too fast.

He chose a bloom from the ones scattered across the pillows and handed it to her. The rich, spicy scent made her dizzy with longing. Her heart and head were out of sync. Hope and reality vied for supremacy. Love didn’t change who she was. She was a practical woman, and as beautiful, magical, and romantic as the setting was, she knew he’d be gone come morning.

“What’s this?” It was a toss-up whether she should get it over with, skip the romance, and just pretend he was a Band-Aid. Rip him off, say good-bye, and prevent future heartache. Or sink into the wonder of it, suspend disbelief, and enjoy what he offered, even if it was on a short-term basis.

“Flowers for my real girl.”

Her heart clutched. God, he
remembered
. She’d told him that in a moment of vulnerability and had hoped he wouldn’t think of it again. Yet he’d not only remembered, he’d understood. The man was uncanny. She lifted the pale pink bloom to her nose. “Peonies? In the dead of winter?”

“I figured for the secret Honey Winston, something full and fragrant and the soft pink of your”— His smile was wicked— “
lips
suits.”

Honey closed her eyes. Her heart hurt, physically hurt. “God, Navarro . . .” He’d gone to a lot of trouble to obtain flowers at this time of year and must’ve pulled a lot of strings to not only procure them but get them to Montana so fast. All for just one night.

“Did I get it right?”

She watched his heart beat at the base of his strong brown throat, then lifted her eyes to his. What she saw there made her heart stutter. Love. Honey swallowed against dryness in her throat. “In every way there is.”

He made no move to kiss her. No move to undress. Instead, they stood face-to-face in the candlelight, a flower and the shimmer of anticipation between them.

“I love you, Honey Winston.”

Honey jerked her eyes up to his. “What?”

“Now that’s hardly complimentary, woman.” His lips curved, and his black eyes seemed to dance. “I love you. Crazily, madly. Unconditionally. You’re the partner I want to go into the unknown with. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you—and Pollack. I fell in love with you because you’re thoughtful, intelligent, and as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside. You’re warm, and funny, and maddening. You inspire and challenge me; you make me want to be a better man for you.” When she just stared up at him, mute, he laughed. “Would you like to respond before I rip your clothes off and have my wicked way with you?”

“I’ve been rehearsing my good-bye, but now I’ve forgotten how it goes. Your hello has thrown me for a loop.”

He touched her cheek with his fingertips as if she were something precious and rare. “Let me know when I have your full attention.”

“God, you have it.” Her eyes never left his face as he slid his palm around her nape and gave a little tug. His fingers tangled in her hair.

“You told me you didn’t have family, other than Pollack. But that’s not true, you know. What I saw here yesterday and tonight is everything a family is. These people aren’t bound to you by blood, but they love you just the same.”

Her throat closed and she fought for a breath.

He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. “Home isn’t a place,
mi corazón,
although God only knows, what you’ve built here is the very definition of home. It’s wherever people love and understand you. You have family here, Honey. Those people out there love you. Not just Pollack, but all of them. You’ve made a family unit here. Built a safe place and filled it with caring, loving people who care deeply about each other. I want to share that with you. I want to share all of it with you. Not for just one night.”

“You wanna shack up?” Her trepidation fled. There was plenty of space for him to have a change of clothes, even a toothbrush. Semi-permanent? She could work with that. . .

“No.” He held her face between his palms. “I want to get married.”

She’d never felt so clueless, nor so filled with anticipation. “To
me
?”

“Who else?” He dipped his head to kiss her with aching sweetness. His mouth gentle, but his meaning loud and clear.
Mine
. Honey’s heart beat so fast it made her dizzy or perhaps it was the feeling of complete rightness.

Rafe lifted his head. “Yes to
you
. I love you. You, I’m betting, love me right back.”

“Of course I do.” She put her hand over his heart, feeling the hard thump, knowing her heart beat just as fast, just as hopefully. “Are you sure? When? When you get back from your new op? How long—”

“How would you like to get married on the beach at a tropical paradise?”

“After this weather? Not just yes, but
hell
yes. God, that wasn’t romantic of me.” She closed her eyes and shook her head in wonder, took a deep breath, and looked back at the only face she wanted to see. “I love you, Rafael. And I’ll wait as long as I have to, although it’ll drive me crazy. Can you give me any idea of what—”

Smiling, he put a finger on her lips. “My mission—and yours, operative Winston, should you choose to accept it—is to get married and take an extended honeymoon on Paradise Island . . .”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

Honey pulled him against her then did a slick hip throw. They landed on the bed together with a little bounce on the plush mattress, falling against peony-scented, crisp cotton sheets.

Laughing, Rafael rolled her over, pinning her down. “Fifty percent on top for me, fifty for you.”

She used both hands to yank off his shirt. “Sixty-forty.” She kissed his chin.

“In my favor?” He pulled her silk top over her head, eyes gleaming when he saw she wore no bra.

Honey spread her arms wide, arching her back. “Mine.”

Laughing, Rafael rested his forehead on hers as he slid a warm hand over her shoulder and down over the soft swell of her breast. “You are the best damn thing that ever happened to me, Honey Winston.”

“And you, Rafael Navarro, are the best damn thing that ever happened to me. I guess we
both
win.”

About Cherry Adair

  

New York Times bestselling author Cherry Adair’s innovative action-adventure novels have appeared on numerous bestsellers lists, won dozens of awards and garnered praise from reviewers and fans alike.

With the creation of her kick-butt counterterrorist group, T-FLAC, years before action adventure romances were popular. Cherry has carved a niche for herself with her sexy, sassy, fast-paced novels.

I love to hear from readers.
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Thanks for joining Rafael and Honey on this op, please enjoy the ICE COLD video before you go.

Ice Cold Video Link

And look for Darius and Lauren in an exciting new T-FLAC adventure Summer 2013

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