Hot Ice (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 7) by Lynn Raye Harris

her toward the door. It was such a gentlemanly thing to do that she hadn’t expected it from him after the way he’d spoken to her earlier.
    But then she had to admit she hadn’t helped that situation by being snotty with him or showing her displeasure at having him around.
    He made her wait while he checked the street, and then he took her out to the car and handed her in. He went around the other side to join her, and the car moved smoothly away from the curb.  
    “The two of you work together?” she asked after a few minutes of silence.
    Garrett turned his head. “Yes. For the past year.”
    “Do you do this kind of thing often?”
    “Actually, no.” His gaze met the other man’s in the rearview mirror. “Private security is only one of our specialties, but it’s not the primary one.”
    “Which is why you don’t want to be here.”
    The driver’s gaze hit the rearview again for a brief second.
    Garrett cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I said that. Your safety is my number one priority. Never doubt that.”
    “And I’m sorry if I made you feel unwelcome. It’s just that I don’t like, um, strangers in my space.”  
    My God, she was babbling. Why?  
    Because they were getting closer and closer to the hotel, and she was dreading it. Chattering to him was easier to bear than the thought of talking to all those people. Of smiling and pretending she was having a good time while her life was imploding around her ears.
    “I understand.”
    He didn’t say another word, and she lapsed into an awkward silence because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Soon they arrived at the hotel, and the car pulled up beneath the covered entrance. The press was there, cameras flashing and video running as reporters thrust microphones into people’s faces.
    “Breathe, Grace,” a stern voice ordered, and she looked over at Garrett to see him frowning at her. “Let’s find another way in.”
    The driver stepped on the gas, and they rolled away from the crowd of reporters and around the building. There was a barricade at the rear entrance, however, and they came to a stop.
    “Stay here.” Garrett swung open the door and strolled over to talk with a police officer standing near the barricade. A few moments later he was back and opening her door. “We’re going in through the loading dock.”
    She slipped her hand into his as he helped her to the street. It was the first time her bare skin had touched his. There was an awareness that rolled through her, a fiery prickle of heat that slid along her neural pathways at that simple touch.
    She told herself it was nerves, but it didn’t abate as he pulled her closer and tucked her against his side. She pulled her wrap tighter and hurried up the stairs of the loading dock and into the building. The back hallways were tiled rather than carpeted, and the walls were industrial white.
    Soon, however, he was slipping through another door and into the posh levels of the hotel. Here the carpet was plush, the walls paneled in mahogany, with two-story chandeliers dripping with Austrian crystals hanging in the grand foyer.
    He drew her up short at the top of the stairs leading to the benefit her father was throwing. “I’ll tell you like my mama always told me,” he began. “If you’re feeling afraid, picture them in their underwear. It’s not polite, but it works.”
    Grace took a deep breath and tried to smile. “You must think me ridiculous. I grew up in this world, and I know how to behave. But I can never shake off the nerves at the beginning of an event. I’ll be fine when I hit my stride.”
    His eyes dipped to her chest, back up to her face. His voice, when he spoke, was low and sexy. “You look beautiful, by the way.”
    Her heart skittered, and her palms started to sweat. He had to be kidding her—or distracting her. There was no other explanation.  
    But before she could respond, she heard her mother’s voice call out. “Grace, darling, there you