Read Cold as Ice for Free Online

it, and she was just as happy to be able to keep a relative distance.
    "I've got a busy day tomorrow," she said, rising on thankfully steady feet. "I've had a lovely evening, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to say good-night."
    Harry rose, towering over her, his big Texas grin almost tempting. "Are you sure I can't talk you into an after-dinner liqueur? Maybe view my etchings?"
    She laughed, as she was supposed to. "I think I'll take a rain check on the etchings," she said. "I'm so exhausted I'll probably fall asleep on my feet."
    "We can't have that. I suppose I'd better call Jensen ! "
    The ghost appeared, seemingly out of the woodwork, and his sudden presence momentarily cleared the fog in Genevieve's brain. "Shall I see Ms. Spenser to her quarters, sir?"
    Harry didn't look pleased at Jensen's rapid appearance.
    "I can find my own way," she protested, just as the boat shifted beneath her, and she had to reach out and catch the back of the banquette.
    "The wind has picked up a bit, and we wouldn't want you to slip or get lost. The SS
Seven Sins
is a big ship. Besides, Jensen's here to serve, aren't you?"
    "Yes, sir," he murmured, his voice as colorless as his eyes.
    She almost changed her mind. Stupid, of course, she chided herself, but for a brief, wine-fogged moment she felt safer with Harry Van Dorn and his straightforward attempts at seduction than the almost invisible servant with the empty eyes.
    But she hadn't had
that
much to drink. She put her best smile on her face. "If you wouldn't mind, Mr. Jensen?"
    "It's his job, Genevieve," Harry drawled.
    She glanced up at Jensen's impassive face. She really needed this vacation—she had no reason at all to feel so uneasy in his presence. Maybe the pills she took to calm her down had backfired, making her more paranoid.
    None of it mattered. She'd be gone by tomorrow, and she wouldn't have to be anyone but herself.
    "This way, Ms. Spenser," he said, opening the door for her, and she squashed down her misgivings.
    "Thanks again for a lovely evening," she said to Harry. It wasn't really a lie—it hadn't been that unpleasant. She just desperately wanted to be somewhere else.
    "It was entirely my pleasure. Jensen will see you safely to your room and we'll meet for an early breakfast."
    She knew she should make some polite response, but right then she was too tired for social amenities. She'd smiled and laughed and responded till she felt like a trained monkey, and she hadn't even gotten the papers signed. Papers he'd insisted on having brought to him. First thing tomorrow morning, she promised herself hazily. And then if he didn't let her go she'd damn well jump overboard.
    She followed Jensen along the outside passageway. She could see the lights of the island, too close and yet too far away. The faint rocking of the boat was even more pronounced as the wind whipped through her carefully coiffed hair, and then they were inside again, the passageway small, dimly lit, almost claustrophobic. "Is this the way we came?" she asked, unable to disguise the faint nervousness in her voice.
    "I'm taking a shortcut. You looked like you needed to get to your cabin as soon as possible. Unless…"
    He stopped, and she barreled into him, much to her embarrassment. He wasn't a ghost at all, but warm, solid flesh. "Unless what?"
    "I could arrange for a launch to take you back to the island. That way you could catch a flight out tomorrow morning and not have to bother with Mr. Van Dorn's pilot."
    Her contact lenses had been in for far too long, and she was having trouble focusing. For a moment she was tempted—dry land, no more Harry Van Dorn or business of any sort. But the goddamn papers weren't signed, the reason she was sent here in the first place, and she couldn't afford to offend an important client by disappearing and refusing his hospitality and his private jet. She was on the fast track at Roper, Hyde, Camui and Fredericks, and she wasn't ready to throw that overboard.