Hot Ice (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 7) by Lynn Raye Harris Read Free Book Online

doesn’t get grabbed by the baddies.”
    Flash flopped into a silk chair, legs sprawling. “Man, since when do we have to play bodyguard for Washington power brokers and their kids? Our place is in the field, taking care of business, not here.”
    Garrett thought the same damn thing. “Agreed. But the boss wants this done, it’s getting done.”
    Flash sighed. “We’ll have your back tonight. I think it’s a whole lot of effort for nothing, but whatever.”
    “Who’s driving us?” Because he’d discussed it with his guys, and they agreed that one of them should play chauffeur while he rode in the back with Grace. Just in case something happened, he needed to be able to react—and he couldn’t do that if he was driving Miss Daisy around town.
    “I am.”
    Garrett nodded. “Good.”
    They chatted a bit more, about tonight and then about nothing much, and Flash left. Garrett put on ESPN and watched a rehash of a football game from last week. He scrolled through his messages—nothing from his ex, thank God, and nothing from Cammie. That last bothered him, but Cammie was in school and she wasn’t allowed to text during class.
    Eventually, he went to the guest room he’d commandeered—Grace hadn’t reappeared since she’d taken her cute friend and gone upstairs a few hours ago. The friend—Brooke, she’d said—had left a while ago now. She’d been flirting with him after the misunderstanding in the kitchen—shit, he could still wring Grace’s neck for not informing him she had a friend with a key to the house—but when she left, she hadn’t said anything other than she’d be back at four thirty to help Grace get ready.
    He wasn’t disappointed she’d stopped flirting. She was cute, no doubt about it, but he found himself strangely uninterested. Not to mention he had no time for distractions right now. And she would be a distraction. If he bedded her, it would get awkward, because these days he was a one-and-done kind of guy. Not a lot of women appreciated that, he’d come to find out.
    But he just couldn’t maintain interest. After his disastrous marriage with Melissa, it was no doubt a gut reaction to anything that smacked of a relationship. He had too much going on in his life to deal with yet another woman in it.
    He took a shower and put on his tux, then went down the hall to Grace’s room—he knew it was hers because of the locked door and the classical music in the background—and knocked.
    “Yes?” she called.
    Her voice slid down his spine like whisky-infused honey. “You okay in there?”
    “Fine, thanks.”
    “Your friend come back yet?”
    The doorknob twisted, and then she was standing there, most of her body hiding behind the door. Because she was wearing a silky robe and probably nothing else. His groin took that moment to decide to spark to life.
    Her blue eyes were wide, and she wasn’t wearing glasses for once. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, and her neck was long and graceful. He wished he could see what kind of curves she had. She’d been wearing some kind of stretchy pants earlier, but she’d had on a billowy T-shirt and he couldn’t quite tell what was going on with her body.
    He hadn’t forgotten that flash of her panties earlier or the long legs as they’d climbed the stairs. At first glance, Grace Campbell seemed a little ordinary. But the more you looked at her, the more interesting she got.
    “She’s on her way. I’d appreciate it if you don’t accost her this time.”
    She sounded so prim. It grated on him—and thrilled him in some ridiculously odd way as well. He had a sudden urge to slant his mouth over hers and knock the starch right out of her.
    “Not planning on it, cupcake.”
    Her brow furrowed. “Why do you insist on calling me names like that? It’s insulting. I have an MD—and I graduated near the top of my class, by the way.”
    “I like the way your nose wrinkles when you’re pissed. Makes the job more interesting.”
    She