Ice Cold (17 page)

“Just to be crystal clear,” she said firmly into the tempting darkness. “I won’t sleep with you.”

His cheek moved against her, the bristles lightly abrading her skin, indicating a small curve of his lips. “I’m stronger than I presently look.”

Despite his bloody clothes and the gash in his head, he looked plenty strong. Strong enough for innuendo at least. Possibly more. “What does that mean?”

“I have superhuman recuperative powers.”

Her imagination, narrow as it was, took that all the way. “And I care about this—why?”

“Just saying.”

The more he didn’t do anything, the more she thought about what she’d do if he did—Anything. “Sometimes,” she told him with asperity, “not saying what’s on your mind is the wisest course of action, Superman.”

He chuckled, and the vibration slid like syrup through her veins. “What were you like as a kid?”

A surprising but safe enough subject, as long as she stuck to cocktail party answers. “Shy. Introspective. Lonely.” His jaw was rough against her skin, hiking up her heartbeat every time he shifted his head. “What about you?”

“Extrovert. Angry. Alone.”

“You were born in Spain, right?”

“Mazagón. A beach town about a hundred kilometers from Seville. My mother was a waitress in one of the local tourist bars.”

She loved the sleepy timber of his voice, and the way his damp breath tickled her skin. His hair was drying, and she let it sift through her fingers. “And your father?”

He paused for a heartbeat, but it was long enough for her to the sense they’d entered more treacherous territory. “I had one of those, in a manner of speaking. He was married, had three sons about my age, and lived on the other side of the world. He ran a salvage operation out of a private island in the Caribbean, so we didn’t see him more than a couple of times a year. Not that my mother knew about the other family. Not right away, anyway. I’ll skip all the drama.

“He moved us from Mazagón to Miami when I was nine. Not too close to his real family, it turned out, but close enough to make visiting my mother more convenient. We had a nice condo for a while. Lived high off the hog for a few years. Then he moved on.”

Her fingers stilled. “That must’ve been hard. On both of you.” No wonder Navarro didn’t get past the third date with women. How could he make commitments when he’d never seen them in his own home life? Perhaps, that was better than the constant fake-happiness passed around her Hollywood mansion as normalcy. Whenever her parents said “I love you‚” Honey knew what it meant. They “loved” each other and had hateful screaming matches. Shit. They’d loved the dog and put it down because it crapped on the carpet in the living room. She resumed the soothing combing of his hair with her fingers. It was something her mother had done for her as a child, one of the few memories Honey had of her being home long enough to put her to sleep. Usually, that chore fell to Pollack. At the time, her touch had been much more honest to Honey than her whispers of “I love you.”

Touch still meant more to her than words, hence her unwillingness to be touched at all.

Until now.

“I grew up fast.” His shoulder brushed her naked belly, sending a shard of unfamiliar longing through her.

“You were the man of the family when you were still a child.”

“As I said. I grew up fast.”

“Is your mother still living in Florida?”

“Mostly, she’s in rehab, just out of rehab, or in jail.” His tone was so neutral she couldn’t gauge how he felt about his mother, one way or the other. There was more to this painful story, she suspected, but she didn’t pry.

“Have you met your brothers?”

“Hell no. Knock on their door and inform them that the father they probably loved was a two-timing asshole? Don’t think so. Not the best setup for a warm greeting for the prodigal son.”

“I bet you did a thorough background check on them.” God knew that was
her
regular mode. She never allowed anyone near her or Pollack that she hadn’t thoroughly checked beforehand. Few men passed her scrutiny and only two had slipped through her resolve and security. Until now. Dammit.

“Some. They seem to be doing well. Their old man died a few years back, but I didn’t tell my mom. Probably should,” he mused. “She’s sure he’ll be back someday.”

His rough tone made her want to say something kind and pleasant to bring back the relaxed, tension-free feeling from before they started speaking of family. “He must’ve cared for both of you if the relationship went on for that long—”

“Fourteen years, about. Yeah. Long-term. Then the money dried up, the furniture went, then the car, then the condo. By then, she was using so much so she didn’t really notice. I did what I could, but—” He shrugged, and she was once again all-too-conscious of his body beside hers. “How did we get on this subject? I’d rather talk about you.”

His defenses were down and people said more than they should when the lights were low and it was right before dawn. She was a closed book. It was almost impossible for Honey to share herself with people; she’d spent too much of her life slamming emotional doors to crack them open now.

“I always wanted siblings. Preferably ones that I didn’t share blood with,” she said lightly. “The Winston’s were a volatile lot, to say the least.”

“I remember reading something about that. You’re anything but.”

“I was the cuckoo in their nest. The press enjoyed speculating which of us was least like the other two,” she told him, dryly. “I had the prerequisite looks, but my personality was lacking.”

“I find your personally charming, Winston.”

She smiled, because even beaten to crap, and three-quarters asleep, he could still lay on that legendary charm. “Points for that. But I’m still not sleeping with you, Navarro. We should get at least a few hours of rest.”

She reached up and rubbed her tired eyes, yawning. “I’m going to check the doors. Head off to bed, I’ll come and wake you in half an hour.”

He angled his head and closed his eyes, lashes brushing like the kiss of butterfly wings on her bare skin. “Five more minutes.”

Don’t be charmed. Do not be charmed. Charm is his stock in trade.
It’s a tool. A weapon.
“We agreed on five minutes, and you’ve had them and more. You’re not a toddler, and I’m not pandering to your fantasies any more, Navarro.” She shifted away, leaving a warm spot on her breast where his head had been.

Picking up her sweater, she pulled it on over her head. It was the closest thing she could get to putting on her LockOut gear, although, even the LockOut wouldn’t protect her from the kind of threat Navarro posed.

What a stupid damn thing to allow herself to be talked into. Incredibly
unprofessional
was the least reckless part of it. “Go to bed. That’s an order.”

He looked at her with dark eyes. “Can you put on your ass-kicking boots and repeat that?” Spain was in his sleepy voice.

Honey wanted his head back on her breast. She wanted… What she shouldn’t have. Mentally, she could practically see twirling red lights and hear a siren blaring danger, danger, danger. The man was a walking temptation. Despite her head-to-breast capitulation, he still thought she was a challenge. She’d dissuade him of the notion of trying to scale her like Everest, before one of them got hurt.

“Can I?” she told him coolly, placing the unused supplies back in the med kit and piling the soiled towels together, thereby avoiding eye contact. “Of course. Will I? Certainly not.
Go
.”

He saluted then used both hands on the padded arms to push up from the chair with a loud grunt. “Going.”

Honey turned away, walking through the semidarkness. She almost tripped over his crumpled coat on the floor of the hallway leading to the front door. He must’ve shucked it when he came in. She picked it up. No wonder. The wool was heavy, sodden, and still cold. He’d lain in the street for who knew how long. His attackers hadn’t killed him, which was odd, but he could’ve died from exposure anyway.

He’d smelled her perfume
… A chill brought goose bumps to her skin, even though the suite was warm. There was a rational, logical explanation for this. It wasn’t random. None of it was random. Life was made up of patterns. All she had to do was systematically analyze the data she had to detect and uncover the root cause buried under all the rhetoric and smokescreen. It was hard keeping emotions out of it when this was incredibly personal.

She wasn’t going to come up with any halfway decent answers hours before dawn. Tomorrow, as Scarlett was known to have said, was another day. Snapping on the small table lamp in the entry hall, she opened the coat closet and removed a laundry bag. After filling in the paperwork for express dry cleaning and repairs if necessary, she called the front desk. She checked the coat’s pockets before loading it in the bag and put the bag outside the door. Navarro could thank her tomorrow.

She didn’t hear anything from the sitting room and presumed he’d taken himself to bed. She wasn’t looking forward to waking him every thirty minutes. As long as they kept their clothes on, she could be his nurse for the rest of the night without making a fool of herself.

She had enough sexual hang ups to contend with without adding Navarro to her issues. She’d forgotten about
that
little issue while he’d been resting against her. Fortunately, the reminder would help her deflect further advances.

God. This was the
Spanish Stallion
. He’d only had to
ask,
and even she, the woman known as the Ice Princess, had taken off half her freaking clothes without a bleat. He was smooth, all right.

With the front door securely locked and bolted, Honey turned off the small lamp and headed back down the hallway to the lounge area. The two bedrooms were on either side of the large sitting room, giving them both privacy and a convenient place for command central. It was more room than they would’ve had at the safe house, but there, other people were around to break the intimacy.

Exhaustion dragged at her as she combed her fingers through her hair, yawning hard enough to hear her jaw pop when she walked through the dimly lit room. It had been a very long day, with lots of emotion and very little physical activity, which was always more tiring than running around.

High emotion wasn’t her thing. Her childhood had been fraught with drama on a daily basis. Both her parents were larger than life. And loud, God they’d been loud. As a shy, insecure child, her parents had—

Honey almost took a nosedive, tripping over a large boot directly in her path, hidden in the shadows. “What the—”

A bloody shirt lay just inside her door, a puddle of stepped-out-of-jeans… Her gaze snapped to the bed.
Her
bed.

Angled facedown across her crumpled sheets, Navarro lay fast asleep.

He was butt naked.

Honey leaned against the doorjamb, arms folded. A small smile curved her lips as she said softly, “And it isn’t even my birthday.”

Turned out that as long as he was out cold and didn’t know any better, she wasn’t too tired to look her fill for a minute.

Being extra careful not to bump the mattress, she crawled up on the bed, then curled up a few feet away from him. She had to wake him every thirty minutes, there was no point sending him across the suite to his own room. Here or there, it was more practical to spend the night in the same room.

Arms bunching the pillow under his head, he lay turned away from her. Honey let her avid gaze stroke down his broad back to linger on the twin globes of his butt. Ambient light from the street below limned his skin, making it look as smooth and touchable as satin. The light and shadow showcased his impressive musculature from shoulder to calf. The need to touch him was overwhelming, but instead, Honey dug her short nails into her palms, and fought to regulate her erratic breathing.

This insane attraction was out of character for her. Sex wasn’t a big part of her life. Unless she was on her own and had total control of the where and how of it, she’d always found it…disappointing. Nevertheless, the sexual heat had been simmering between them for days now, and her body felt as though she’d been having foreplay without the big bang finish.

He was easier to resist because she knew with a partner, that big bang finish never happened. Her body wasn’t programmed to climax in tandem. So she’d lusted and had the stirring, but knowing there was no pay off kept her from jumping into bed with him, thereby probably saving her from making the biggest mistake of her life.

With a small sigh, he shifted in his sleep, turning his head on the pillow so he faced her. Body rigid, she felt his warm breath touch her skin. God, his mouth was sinful, and she let her gaze linger there, imagined him pressing his mouth on hers, almost felt the slip and slide of his tongue against hers.

A sharp, painful shudder of longing swept through her.

Her nipples ached as heat pooled between her legs.

Did she dare? Her heart sped up. How fast asleep was he?

“Rafael?” she asked, softer than a whisper. Operatives were trained to wake at any out of place sound, but he didn’t stir, which showed trust at the most basic level. If he opened his eyes now, she could just tell him it was time to check his pupils.