Nora Roberts - Hot Ice

She wanted to kiss himhe looked rough and restless and disheveled, the way a man might after a night of wild sex.

But just what kind of 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 liked it. Shed like to feel that clever, interesting mouth on hersbut not yet. Once shed 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 for both of us within twenty-four hours.

How?

Whitney noted with amused annoyance just how quickly his seductive tone became businesslike. Connections, Douglas, she said blithely. Whatre partners for?

He shot her an appraising look. Damn if she wasnt becoming handy. If he werent careful, shed become in dispensable.

B A N T A M B O O K S B Y
N O R A R O B E R T S

Brazen Virtue

Carnal Innocence

Divine Evil

Genuine Lies

Hot Ice

Public Secrets

Sacred Sins

Sweet Revenge

T O B R U C E

for showing me that being in
love is the ultimate adventure

He was running for his life. And it wasnt the first time. As he raced by Tiffanys elegant window display he hoped it wouldnt be his last. The night was cool with April rain slick on the streets and sidewalk. There was a breeze that even in Manhattan tasted pleasantly of spring. He was sweating. They were too damn close.

Fifth Avenue was quiet, even sedate at this time of night. Streetlights intermittently broke the darkness; traffic was light. It wasnt the place to lose yourself in a crowd. As he ran by Fifty-third, he considered ducking down into the subway below the Tishman Buildingbut if they saw him go in, he might not come back out.

Doug heard the squeal of tires behind him and whipped around the corner at Cartiers. He felt the sting in his upper arm, heard the muffled pop of a silenced bullet, but never slackened his pace. Almost at once, he smelled the blood. Now they were getting nasty. And he had the feeling they could do a lot worse.

But on Fifty-second Street were peoplea group here and there, some walking, some standing. Here, there was noiseraised voices, music. His labored breathing went unnoticed. Quietly he stood behind a redhead who was four or five inches taller than his own six feetand half again as wide. She was swaying to the music that poured out of her portable stereo. It was like hiding behind a tree in a windstorm. Doug took the opportunity to catch his breath and check his wound. He was bleeding like a pig. Without giving it a thought, he slipped the striped bandana out of the redheads back pocket and wrapped it around his arm. She never stopped swayinghe had very light fingers.

It was more difficult to kill a man outright when there was a crowd, he decided. Not impossible, just harder. Doug kept his pace slow and faded in and out of the packs of people while he kept his eyes and ears open for the discreet black Lincoln.

Near Lexington he saw it pull up a half block away, and he saw the three men in trim dark suits get out. They hadnt spotted him yet, but it wouldnt be long. Thinking fast, he scanned the crowd hed merged with. The black leather with the two dozen zippers might work.

Hey. He grabbed the arm of the boy beside him. Ill give you fifty bucks for your jacket.

The boy with pale spiked hair and a paler face shrugged him off. Fuck off. Its leather.

A hundred then, Doug muttered. The three men were getting closer all the time.

This time the boy took more interest. He turned his face so that Doug saw the tiny tattooed vulture on his cheek. Two hundred and its yours.

Doug was already reaching for his wallet. For two hundred I want the shades too.

The boy whipped off the wraparound mirrored sunglasses. You got em.

Here, let me help you off with that. In a quick move, Doug yanked the boys jacket off. After stuffing bills in the boys hand he pulled it on, letting out a hiss of breath at the pain in his left arm. The jacket smelled, not altogether pleasantly, of its previous owner. Ignoring it, Doug tugged the zipper up. Look, therere three guys in undertaker suits coming this way. Theyre scouting out for extras for a Billy Idol video. You and your friends here should get yourselves noticed.

Oh yeah? And as the boy turned around with his best bored-teenagers look on his face, Doug was diving through the nearest door.

Inside, wallpaper shimmered in pale colors under dimmed lights. People sat at white linen-covered tables under art-deco prints. The gleam of brass rails formed a path to more private dining rooms or to a mirrored bar. With one whiff, Doug caught the scent of French cooking sage, burgundy, thyme. Briefly he considered hustling his way past the maitre d to a quiet table, then decided the bar was better cover. Affecting a bored look, he stuck his hands in his pockets and swaggered over. Even as he leaned on the bar, he was calculating how and when to make his exit.

Whiskey. He pushed the wraparound shades more firmly onto his nose. Seagrams. Leave the bottle.

He stood hunched over it, his face turned ever so slightly toward the door. His hair was dark, curling into the collar of the jacket; his face was clean-shaven and lean. His eyes, hidden behind the mirrored glasses, were trained on the door as he downed the first fiery taste of whiskey. Without pausing, he poured a second shot. His mind was working out all the alternatives.

Hed learned to think on his feet at an early age, just as hed learned to use his feet to run if that was the best solution. He didnt mind a fight, but he liked to have the odds in his favor. He could deal straight, or he could skim over the finer points of honestydepending on what was the most profitable.

What he had strapped to his chest could be the answer to his taste for luxury and easy livingthe taste hed always wanted to cultivate. What was outside, combing the streets for him, could be a quick end to living at all. Weighing one against the other, Doug opted to shoot for the pot of gold.

The couple beside him were discussing the latest Mailer novel in earnest voices. Another group tossed around the idea of heading to a club for jazz and cheaper booze. The crowd at the bar was mostly single, he decided, here to drink off the tension of a business day and show themselves to other singles. There were leather skirts, three-piece suits, and high-topped sneakers. Satisfied, Doug pulled out a cigarette. He could have chosen a worse place to hide.

A blonde in a dove gray suit slid onto the stool beside him and flicked her lighter at the end of his cigarette. She smelled of Chanel and vodka. Crossing her legs, she downed the rest of her drink.

Havent seen you in here before.

Doug gave her a brief lookenough to take in the slightly blurred vision and the predatory smile. Another time, hed have appreciated it. No. He poured another shot.

My office is a couple of blocks from here. Even after three Stolichnayas, she recognized something arrogant, something dangerous in the man beside her. Interested, she swiveled a little closer. Im an architect.