Read Hot Ice for Free Online Page B

she’d just walked out of Elizabeth Arden’s. Naked in the bed with the sheet up to his waist, Doug felt at a disadvantage. He didn’t care for that sensation.
    “You ever knock?”
    “Not when I’m paying for the room,” she said easily. She stepped over the tangle of jeans on the floor. “Breakfast is on its way up.”
    “Great.”
    Ignoring his sarcasm, Whitney made herself at home by sitting on the bottom of the bed and stretching out her legs.
    “Make yourself comfortable,” Doug said expansively.
    Whitney only smiled and shook back her hair. “I got in touch with Uncle Maxie.”
    “Who?”
    “Uncle Maxie,” Whitney repeated, giving her nails a quick check. She really needed a manicure before they left town. “Actually, he’s not my uncle, I just call him my uncle.”
    “Oh, that kind of uncle,” Doug said, a half sneer on his face.
    Whitney spared him a mild glance. “Don’t be crude, Douglas. He’s a dear friend of the family’s. Perhaps you’ve heard of him. Maximillian Teebury.”
    “Senator Teebury?”
    She spread her fingers for a last examination. “You do keep up with current events.”
    “Look, smartass.” Doug grabbed her arm so that she tumbled half into his lap. Whitney only smiled up at him, knowing she still held all the aces. “Just what does Senator Teebury have to do with anything?”
    “Connections.” She ran a finger down his cheek, clucking her tongue at the roughness. But roughness, she discovered, had its own primitive appeal. “My father always says you can do without sex in a pinch, but you can’t do without connections.”
    “Yeah?” Grinning, he lifted her up so that her face was close to his and her hair streamed down to the sheets. Again he caught the drift of her scent that meant wealth and class. “Everybody has different priorities.”
    “Indeed.” She wanted to kiss him. He looked rough and restless and disheveled, the way a man might after a night of wild sex. Just what kind of a lover would Douglas Lord be? Ruthless. She felt her heart thud a little faster at the thought. He smelled of tobacco and sweat. He looked like a man who lived on the edge and enjoyed it. She’d like to feel that clever, interesting mouth on hers—but not yet. Once she’d kissed him she might forget that she had to stay one step ahead of him. “The thing is,” she murmured, letting her hands stray into his hair when their lips were only a breath apart, “Uncle Maxie can get a passport for you and two thirty-day visas to Madagascar within twenty-four hours.”
    “How?”
    Whitney noted with amused annoyance just how quickly his seducing tone became businesslike. “Connections, Douglas,” she said blithely. “What’re partners for?”
    He shot her a considering look. Damn if she wasn’t becoming handy. If he wasn’t careful, she’d be indispensable. The last thing a smart man needed was an indispensable woman who had eyes like whiskey and skin like the underside of petals. Then it hit him that they’d be on their way by that time the next day. Letting out a quick whoop, he rolled on top of her. Her hair fanned over the pillow. Her eyes, half-wary, half-laughing, met his.
    “Let’s find out, partner,” he suggested.
    His body was hard, like his eyes could be, like his hand as it cupped her face. It was tempting. He was tempting. But it was always vital to weigh advantage against disadvantage. Before Whitney could decide whether to agree or not, there was a knock at the door. “Breakfast,” she said cheerfully, wiggling out from under him. If her heart was beating a bit too fast, she wasn’t going to dwell on it. There was too much to do.
    Doug folded his arms behind his head and leaned back on the headboard. Maybe desire was eating a hole in his stomach, or maybe it was just hunger. Maybe it was both. “Let’s have it in bed.”
    Whitney gave her opinion of his suggestion by ignoring it. “Good morning,” she said brightly to the waiter as he wheeled in