Hot Ice (53 page)

"You told me once that you had no defenses against me," he told her softly. "Well, the feeling is mutual. I have no defenses against you either. I've fallen in love with you, Taylor. Jesus," he laughed ruefully, "I can't believe I'm actually quoting a song here, but you light up my life in ways I could never have imagined." His smooth, firm lips brushed hers as he tightened his strong arms around her.

He stroked a large hand over her hair, then cupped the back of her head. "Crazy in love," he whispered hoarsely. He put her away from him and gave her a rueful, amused look. "That look of pained disbelief is hardly encouraging, darling. Maybe this will convince you." He lifted himself off the bed and retrieved a folded envelope out of his back pocket.

Taylor tucked her hair behind her ears with shaking hands and watched him curiously as he tore open the flap. "What is it? A letter of reference?"

"As a matter of fact—yes." He picked up her left hand. "Marry me, my love," he said softly, opening a velvet jeweler's box, then sliding a ring onto her finger.

Taylor glanced down at her hand. The subtle gleam of the diamond looked softly romantic even in the harsh lighting. It was the most beautiful ring she'd ever laid eyes on, four-prong, old-fashioned cushion-cut. Simple, old-fashioned elegance.

Without drawing a breath, incapable of drawing a breath, her eyes flew to his.

"It was my mother's." His expression was very still as he watched her intently, and Taylor realized that the cool, sophisticated man she knew was nervous. "If you hate it," he began gruffly, "we'll get something that suits you better—"

Her throat got tight, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a minute. Her fingers fisted defensively. "This suits me
perfectly
! I love it."

He was sitting still, an intense look of shuttered hope in his gray eyes. As if waiting…

Taylor lifted her hand and traced his stern mouth with a fingertip that trembled with the depth of her emotions. "I love
you
."

He grabbed her, holding her tightly against him. She could hear the rapid pounding of his heart. Racing urgently, as if something had frightened him. But nothing could ever frighten a man like Hunt. "Thank God," he said gutturally against her hair. "Thank God."

He held her away from him, his fingers cupping her shoulders. He smiled, and Taylor's heart soared with the joy of it. "As soon as possible," he told her gruffly, "I'm getting you out of here."

"So you can have your wicked way with me?" Taylor asked, stroking his arm.

"That too. We're going to Paradise."

She loosely curled her arms over his broad shoulders and smiled at him. Because she could. "Anywhere with you will be Paradise."

"Paradise Island? The place your sister is frolicking in the surf right now?"

They'd talk about Mandy, Taylor knew, soon. But right now was just for the two of them. "Ah, hot sunshine. Cool water. And you." Her smile widened. "Paradise indeed."

"The island is one of T-FLAC's training facilities," he told her officiously. As all business as a man could be when his eyes were molten and his hands were stroking her naked bottom. "If you're going to insist on working with me, you have to be suitably trained to go into the field."

Her eyes widened. "Into the field?
Really
? Oh, Lord. That is
so
—"

"Not really true," he interrupted. "You've been offered a job training our operatives in all things nefarious as far as B&E, and safe-cracking goes."

"Ah, man!" Taylor pulled him closer and leaned her forehead against his while she shifted her hips closer to him. "That is so tame, so lame, so…" She shrugged off the thin hospital gown. Thanks to him untying it in back, it fell around her waist, leaving her quite naked in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows.

"Unfair," Hunt murmured, pushing her naked body back onto the pillows.

Taylor wound her arms about his neck, laughing up at him. God, she loved this man. "What if someone comes in?" she whispered against his mouth as he bent to kiss her.

"Stuck one of your lock picks in the keyhole." He nibbled her jaw.

Her heart smiled. "As long as you used the right tool for the job."

He wrapped his strong arms around her, stretched out beside her on the narrow bed, then pulled her against his body. "You'll have to teach me." The only thing that would've made it better was if he was under the covers with her.

"We'll teach each other," Taylor told him, her tongue tracing the contour of his lips. "I'll teach you to smile more often, and how to open safes."

"And I, my love, will teach you that there are far more exciting things to do than scaling buildings and leaping across rooftops."

Taylor nuzzled her nose against his neck. She loved the smell of him. She sighed with sheer, unadulterated joy. "I know," she said happily. "Like learning how to shoot a gun, and how to defuse a bomb. Hey! How about teaching me to fly a helicopter?"

Taylor loved Hunt's smile, and she found that she loved his laughter even more. Even better, she knew she'd hear it for years and years and years to come.

About the Type

This book was set in Bembo, a typeface based an on old-style Roman face that was used for Cardinal Bembo's tract
De Aetna
in 1495. Bembo was cut by Francisco Griffo in the early sixteenth century. The Lanston Monotype Company of Philadelphia brought the well-proportioned letterforms of Bembo to the United States in the 1930s.