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

when he eventually makes his way over and speaks to you?”
    Grace’s pupils widened. Clearly, she hadn’t realized her ex was planning to come talk to her. “If you could take him down to the floor and make him cry like a baby, that would be great.”
    Garrett snorted. He hadn’t expected that answer, but he rather liked it.  
    “Well, I could, but I don’t think that’s the vibe your father is going for tonight.”
    Grace crossed her arms over her middle. It had the effect of lifting her breasts up and pushing them closer together. He liked that very much. She didn’t have large breasts, but what she did have was definitely appealing.
    In fact, the whole package was more appealing than he’d thought when he first met her. She was tall and willowy—and when she took off her glasses, her face was softer and prettier than when she looked so serious and circumspect.
    She sighed as if she were incredibly put-upon. “Fine, I suppose you’re right. My mother would not approve of bloodshed—unless it was done to protect me from an assassin, I suppose.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “So what can you do to ensure I don’t have to speak to him?”
    He didn’t know why he’d offered to protect her from an uncomfortable encounter, but he hadn’t liked the look in her eyes when she’d said her ex had dumped her.  
    “I’ll keep him away.”
    Her gaze slid to the side and then back again. There was a sparkle in her eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Just don’t act like a bodyguard, for heaven’s sake.”
    “I haven’t yet.”
    “No, you haven’t. And I appreciate it.”
    He shrugged. It didn’t take a genius to realize she wanted to be seen at an important event with a date rather than a bodyguard. He hadn’t overplayed it, but he had stayed close and kept his hand against her back when necessary. He’d also gotten her drinks and stood by her side while she spoke with her father’s donors. He wasn’t supposed to get involved with her, but pretending to be her date wasn’t involved.
    He’d engaged in polite chitchat from time to time, and he’d pretended not to notice the curious looks. No one had asked outright if he was Grace’s date. But he knew he’d been chosen for this assignment because he could blend, not because he was supposed to look like obvious muscle. So blend he would.
    Until someone tried to harm her.  
    Grace glanced at the slim gold watch she wore. “We’ve only been here an hour, for heaven’s sake.”
    “Are you ready to leave?”
    “I was ready before we arrived.” She sighed. “But I have to stay.”
    He put his hand against her back and steered her toward the door.  
    “Where are we going?”
    “No one says you can’t slip away for a few minutes and catch your breath.”
    He guided her out the door and down the hall to a small seating area. No one was in it, and Grace sank onto the overstuffed couch like a wilting flower.  
    “Oh, the quiet. It’s nice.”
    “It’s not that quiet,” he said, sitting beside her. The dull sound of conversation drifted down the hall, and there was also the chatter of hotel employees as they came and went.
    “Quieter than inside the ballroom.”
    “So you don’t like crowds and noise. Must have been challenging growing up in your household.”
    She frowned. There was a tiny line in her forehead that became more pronounced when she did that. “If left to my own devices, I’d probably never talk to a soul. So it’s a good thing I was forced to learn how to do so at a young age. This world does not reward the quiet and the bookish.”
    He tilted his head. “How so? I’d think being studious was a good thing.”
    “Oh, it definitely is. But then you have to be able to temper the studious side with a side that’s interactive, gregarious—those are the qualities of a leader in our estimation. Our world rewards outgoing people more so than people who’d rather be by themselves. Look at how we teach kids in