Ice Cold by Cherry Adair Read Free Book Online

flickered up to meet his. “I do not say that as a come-on or encouragement for you to try to change my mind. It’s a simple fact. I don’t find you particularly attractive, and I will not sleep with you. Ever.”
    “What a relief. I thought the unprovoked kiss you planted on me was the prelude to a slow and laborious seduction.”
    Her pupils flared. For a moment, Rafael thought she was heating up from their exchange, but hell no, he should’ve known better. Glued to the screen she was barely aware of his presence.
    “Excellent,” Oblivious to his mental masturbation, she talked right over him. “He/she/they are showing us just how smart they are, and they want us to know it. They want us to follow our tails as they lead us on a merry chase. Another hour, and I’ll tell you exactly where that call really originated. That, coupled with the physical evidence you found, should lead us right to their front door.”
    All the points in that little skirmish went to Frosty. Rafael got to his feet, throwing his shadow over her. “I’ll grab a coffee while you do that. Tea?”
    She didn’t look up. “Please—”
    “Green. Weak. Got it.”
    Rafe watched her as he waited for his order at the counter. She was strikingly beautiful in a stay-the-fuck-away-from-me way that was as intriguing as it was maddening. She must’ve had a lover or two, at her age. He could probably ID them in the locker room by their frozen dicks.
    She was typing away as if her life depended on it. Manic, her fingers frantic. Interesting, because while she’d been decidedly distracted when he’d been sitting with her, she hadn’t been quite as intent. Perhaps she was sending an e-mail to her popsicle lover. Nah. Rafael bit back a thin smile. Frosty didn’t have a lover. She’d have to thaw to freezing to allow that to happen. “You aren’t exactly inconspicuous, you know,” he told her as he came back, setting the two paper cups on the Formica tabletop as he resumed his seat.
    Her pale eyes didn’t so much as flick away from the laptop to glance around at the other patrons. “I’m wearing exactly what every other woman in here is wearing.”
    “Wearing the same clothes but not in the same way. Believe me, your demeanor screams ‘Look at me, I’m loaded’ in red neon. Drawing attention is not a good thing for an operative. Didn’t you read the handbook?”
    “Of course. I have it memorized—I can become invisible if necessary.”
    He snorted his disbelief. “I don’t think so.”
    She gave him a cold glance as she snapped the lid of her small computer shut and shoved it into the voluminous tote hanging over her chair back with her coat. “I don’t much care what you think.” She swung the straps over her slender shoulder and got to her feet. Her legs were a mile long. “Excuse me. I have to use the restroom.”
    “Have at it. You don’t need my permission.”
    She didn’t cuss him out or even mutter under her breath, as most women would do. Kudos. He gave himself points for not turning to watch her ass as she walked way.
    Rafe sipped the strong, black coffee, observing the ebb and flow of people—mostly students—passing outside the large window beside him. The sun had come out and it glinted on the slushy piles of snow on the sidewalks. Winter afternoon and everyone was enjoying a rare few hours of sunshine.
    Before he’d gotten the call about the bomb in Athens, he and his team had just tied up an op in Colombia, and he’d been on his way to London to meet an old flame he’d kept simmering for a while. Neither of them was serious, but he liked Monica, and she knew the score. He needed the release after a hellish op.
    Except he’d had to detour to Montana to grab Jack because he’d been rerouted to Greece. Now, here he was, in Germany with a woman who intrigued him far more than he wanted. With no release valve, apart from his right fist.
    He reminded himself that he was immune.
    Been there, done that, got the scars