Page 56

No signs of an intruder.
No sounds of a stalker.
No shadow of a monster.
The mood dropped again, and this time it triggered that awfully familiar mix of humiliation and indignation. To hell with him, Indy thought as she glanced at the bag of clothes by her feet. She tossed the bag out into the bedroom. The laundry service person would knock, and Ice would have to answer. He’d see the bag of clothes outside the bathroom door. He’d grab them and hand them over.
And even if he didn’t, Indy decided with a pouty-faced shrug, she’d just shower and blow-dry herself and wear the same clothes again if she had to. Whatever. It didn’t matter. She’d just been set up to look like a traitor, had comethisclose to being killed by a CIA wet-team, was by no means out of danger and in the clear yet.
And she was worried about sticky panties and laundry-service?
Priorities, you dumb duckling.
So with one last sigh Indy closed the door.
She didn’t slam it shut but didn’t bother to be quiet either, letting it close with a clearly audiblethud.
Like a part of her wanted to send a message.
Maybe send an invitation.
OK,stop, she scolded herself. He had his chance and he didn’t take it. He’s probably sitting there on the couch staring at the front door, polishing his guns, sharpening his blades. He’s probably waiting to hear the shower come on before he brings the towels back and leaves them outside the bathroom. That little flirty game is over. It may have felt like you were teenagers, but guess what, youaren’ta damn teenager, thisisn’ta fucking romantic weekend in an exotic hotel, and Icewon’tlose control for a second time.
No matter how bad he wants to.
No matter how bad you want him to.
Indy stared at the closed bathroom door, her gaze resting on the brass deadbolt beneath the shining knob. She rubbed the back of her neck, wondering if she should leave it unlocked, just in case Ice flipped that switch back on, decided to stand guard a bit closer to her soapy, shiny, sudsy body.
For a moment that hint of flirty-fun-Indy almost broke through, but then the serious-smart-Indy part popped its smarty-pants head up and reminded everyone what the rational, sensible, serious choice was in this situation.
It was over, Indy decided. Grow up and get your head straight, she told herself.
Then she slid the heavy deadbolt across the door and locked it tight, turned to the shower, shrugged at that third brass showerhead which was just the right height, sticking straight out of the wall, its big head ready and raised.
14
Ice raised his head from the pile of towels and frowned.
He didn’t feel right.
It wasn’t his gut. That had settled down just fine.
It wasn’t his head. That was clear like a bell.
It was his heart. It pounded like a hammer behind his breastbone, pumping furious-hot blood through every artery in his tensed-up body, making every vein throb as the blood roared through bulging muscles and pulsing organs.
Including that major organ between his damn legs.
Ice stared through the open bedroom door to where Indy had tossed that plastic laundry bag with her sticky-sweet panties tucked inside, the wetness telling the tale of what she’d felt when she’d come beneath him, when she’d thrashed while he held her down and ground his cock into her mound.
Ice swallowed hard at the memory. He rolled over so he was now lying on his stomach on the pile of towels, the cloth-mountain a ravaged mess after he’d made snow-angels on it like a kid on Christmas Eve.
“You dumb fuck,” he growled, propping himself up on his elbows and then slowly getting to his feet. He ran his fingers through his hair, rubbed his stubble, then yanked off his sunglasses and tossed them onto the sofa. “You’re on the job, you stupid shit. You’re up against some unknown CIA spook who’s probably smarter than you, more experienced than you, more connected than you, maybe even more ruthless than you. Can’t do much about experience or intelligence or connections on short notice. But you can damn well control your mind. Control your emotions. Stay cold and dispassionate.”
Except Ice couldn’t stay cold and dispassionate around Indy. She’d melted him in ways Ice had never experienced with a woman. He tried to tell himself it was the situation, not the woman.
But his heart told him otherwise.