Hot Ice (6 page)

Taylor drew in a shaky breath. His splayed hand on her tummy moved with the expansion of her ribs. The feel of his bare hand on her wet skin made her hot all over. Her breath caught with a purely female response to his touch coupled with the husky timbre of his voice. It was like being stroked by a cat's tongue. Sheet lightning shot from her nipples to her groin. She swayed. His hands shifted to grip her hips to hold her steady.

"I appreciate your c-concern," she said, trying to sound nonchalant in her naked state. "You can go now. I'm fine."

"Thought you were having a heart attack?"

No. She'd had an attack of the stupids. "Fortunately not."

"Sure?"

"Go."

"I'm staying. Inhale. Two. Three. Exhale. Three. Four. Don't want to be responsible for you dying on my watch. Here. Hand me that soap."

The large masculine hand splayed across her middle didn't feel the least little bit calming, the opposite in fact. Her body hummed with the contact of his warm fingers on her wet skin. It had been so long since she'd felt a man's touch, she'd forgotten how seductive human contact could be.

Everything inside her responded with a sharp, pleasurable buzz of desire that surprised her with its intensity. Lord, she couldn't be turned on. Not now. Not here. It was as unexpected as it was inappropriate. And wrong in more ways than she could count. She must've lost her mind as well as her sight. Unfortunately, trapped as she was in the darkness, her other senses seemed more acute.

He shifted against her, water splashed. Then he put an arm around her waist, plucked the soap out of her hand and started spreading soapy lather up her arm. A shiver traveled the length of her body as his slick fingers curled around the back of her neck.

Her breathing was still on the ragged side. "G-Get out."

"Here." He ignored her. "Hold on." He took her hand and maneuvered her fingers to his belt buckle. Oh, yeah.
That
made her feel steady and strengthened her resolve. Not. The back of her fingers were pressed against the hard muscles of his lower abs.

"Are you o-out of your
mind
?" Taylor shifted her hand to tightly grip the front of his already wet shirt. "You can't stay in here with—"

His warm breath fanned her forehead. "You have cuts and abrasions that need to be cleaned before they fester," he said roughly. "This is the most expedient way to get the job done." He paused as he slipped his large hand under her hair. "Don't worry. You won't fall. You're safe with me."

She wasn't worried about falling. In fact a good crack to the head might be exactly what she needed to regain some of her customary good sense. And safe wasn't the word she'd use right now. Her body burned.

He switched hands, then ran his palm up her left arm. Slowly. "It's a crime to stain such beautiful skin. Creamy, soft…" he murmured absently, leaving behind a trail of fizzy, popping soap bubbles and an ultra-awareness as he stroked. "What brought you to San Cristóbal, Annie?"

Lord, the man was methodical and diabolical. There wasn't an inch of arm unwashed as he slowly climbed from her wrist to her shoulder, spreading lather and little electrical shocks along the way.

"A tranquil, tropical setting?" she replied with a lightness she didn't feel. Her blood surged hot and fast through her veins in an increasingly rapid beat that was becoming impossible to ignore. This was crazy. Insane. She struggled to remind herself that her emotions had been on high alert all day. She shouldn't trust her body's sudden and absolutely irrational response to this total stranger.

His open hand glided from the ball of her shoulder to stroke across the base of her throat. Taylor's breath caught and held while her heart galloped. He kept his fingertips pressed lightly to the pulse there, feeling every erratic beat. "You know what I meant. What, specifically, were you looking for in Morales's safe?"

She struggled to clear the sensual fog from her brain long enough to answer as his open hand slicked down to spread across her breastbone. Her skin seemed to sizzle from the contact.

Lower
. "Since you found me in a jail and managed to break me out of said jail, I'll assume we both know what the target was, right?" His fingers skimmed the top swell of her right breast.
Yes
. The breath she was already holding strangled in her throat.

"Twenty questions?" he asked.

"You first."

His breath fanned the side of her face. "Ladies first," Hunt whispered. "What do you think I want?"

"I know what I want." Taylor's breath hitched. She was one stroke away from forgetting her name and her occupation.

"How'd you know about them?"

"Didn't your thousands of man-hours manage to tell you what I am?"

"A woman. Yeah, I got that part."

"A thief. A jewel thief."

"That's not the only thing you steal, is it?" Why did he sound like he knew more than she did?

"Uh, no I guess not." Taylor played along. Knowledge was power, and knowing what he wanted would make keeping it away from him all the easier. Damn, she couldn't concentrate when he flicked his finger like that.

"The codes." Hunt murmured very close to her ear. "And
you
knew about them—how?" His thumb came close to her nipple, and piercing sweet need urged her body closer to his. Her hands tightened on his belt and she felt the brush of his erection on the tips of her fingers. She almost melted into a little puddle right then.

Mmmm
. Over. Around. Brush. Stroke. Lost in sensation, she forgot to breathe. She leaned into him, lifting her face, wanting him to kiss her. What had he…"Wh-What?"

"How did you know about the codes?"

Taylor struggled to focus on what he said. "Codes? What codes?" She lifted her face, wanting him to kiss her. Dying for him to kiss her. The drift and glide of his fingertips across the swell of her breasts was driving her crazy.

"In Morales's safe. Those codes."

All her senses told her she was in danger and she'd better start
thinking
instead of reacting. But she couldn't think. "I don't know…" Her nipples were so hard and erect they hurt. She needed his mouth there, or at least his fingers. She swayed toward him. "I don't know anything about any codes. I was after the Blue Star diamonds. Are you ever going to—"

"You went after a necklace?" he interrupted.

She blinked, wishing she could see his face, read his expression, because she suddenly realized that there was nothing loverlike in his tone. "Of course." A chill crept across the heat of her skin, and she came up from the sensual fog of arousal like a deep sea diver surfacing. Her elemental defense system kicked in big-time. That he was equally attracted to her, there was no doubt. But unlike herself, he hadn't let that response cloud his mind in any way. He was all business.

Awareness morphed into righteous anger. Suddenly, she felt exposed and extremely vulnerable, standing in front of him stark naked like this. She dredged up the strength to release her death grip on his shirt, and resisted the strong urge to cover herself with her hands. Tilting her chin, Taylor stared in his general direction and pretended she was wearing her favorite red Valentino suit.

She drew a breath, exasperated. "I'm not playing this game," she told him flatly as she felt for the wall behind her and spread her hand on the cool surface for balance. She held out her other palm. "Hand over the soap and get out."

"Despite your platinum invitation, I'm not going to have sex with you," he told her flatly. "Nor do I have the time or inclination to wait while you fumble around trying to get clean on your own. It's more expedient for me to do i—"

"I beg your pardon?" Taylor's jaw locked. "What
platinum
invitation?"

"Your skin's flushed, your pretty nipples are hard, and I can smell your arousal."

Taylor's temper throbbed behind her eyeballs. The arrogant, egotistical—ass. She could feel his erection pressed against her stomach. She wasn't alone in this hormone haze. "Do you have a death wish?" she asked indignantly, fully prepared to give his demise her best shot.

"Lady, if you were capable of killing me, I'd rejoice. Right now you aren't even capable of bathing yourself." He pulled her toward him with a jerk, ignoring her shout of rage and the hand she was using to try and bat him away. "Close your eyes, I'm going to shampoo—Bloody hell!"

Her heart skittered. Oh, God. "Now what?"

"Your eyes are the most—I've never seen eyes quite that shade of blue—"Damn it. What else could happen? She'd obviously lost the brown contacts somewhere along the way. Her eyes were her most distinct feature. Pale blue and creepy-looking. And something she hid behind assorted colored lenses.
Always
. "Contacts."

"No, as stunning as your eyes are—no. Contacts couldn't produce that incredible shade of pure, brilliant blue. They're the real deal. My God, the color is incred—No, don't close them."

He lifted her chin with the tip of his finger. She could practically feel his gaze travel across her features. Since his touch, even one this light, sent shock waves directly to her very core, she gave him a glare from sightless eyes, then let a shudder of a sob slip through. It wasn't totally fake. Her emotions were on full overload. It had been a long, trying day, followed by a long, trying night. She was spent. Done. Exhausted. And at the frayed end of her emotional resources. She didn't have the energy right now for this verbal volley.

Apparently he felt the same way. "I'm letting go. Can you stand by yourself?"

Taylor nodded, then felt ridiculously bereft when he released her. "Five more minutes. If you aren't out of here by then, I'm coining in to finish the job. Clear?"

"Crystal."

"I'll leave the door ajar. Call if you need me."

"I won't."

Chapter Six

Taylor waited until his footsteps faded before running a hand down her wet skin, checking as much to make sure the soap was rinsed off as to reconnect with her traitorous body. She'd never reacted that way to anyone. She'd been ready to throw herself at him.

Disgusted with herself, Taylor knocked her shin against the spigot. "Ow!" One more bruise. She fumbled around and finally managed to turn off the water, then stumbled out of the tub.

"You okay in there?" he called.

"Peachy, thanks for asking." Taylor grit her teeth. Hunt. What an appropriate name for him. The man had stalked her and played her like a lion in the savanna.

She grabbed the towel and buffed her skin with the cheap threadbare cotton. Codes? What was he talking about?

She'd retrieved a
necklace
.

And why did she get the feeling he didn't work for Theresa Smallwood? That meant two people, or two organizations, wanted something Morales had.

If only she'd had time to really look at the items she'd shoved into the silk bag. Damn. She was playing blind. Literally and figuratively.

"Finished?" He stood in the doorway; she could smell him, and feel the heat radiating off him in waves.

"Yeah." Taylor felt him move behind her and propel her into the main room. "Could I have some clothes?" She'd felt around the bathroom and not come across the pile she'd dropped.