Hot Ice

Crillon were soft and seductive. The water in the taps was hot. A bath, a little caviar from room service, and a bed. In the morning she’d have a few hours in the beauty salon before they took the last leg of the journey.
    “I take it you’ve stayed here before.” Whitney slipped into the elevator and leaned against the wall.
    “From time to time.”
    “A profitable place, I assume.”
    Doug only smiled at her. “The service is excellent.”
    “Hmmm.” Yes, she could see him here, sipping champagne and nibbling pâté. Just as she could see him running through alleys in D.C. “How lucky for me we’ve never crossed paths here before.” When the doors opened, she strolled out ahead. Doug took her arm and steered her to the left. “The ambience is important, I suppose, in your business,” she added.
    He allowed his thumb to brush over the inside of her elbow. “I have a taste for rich things.”
    She only gave him an easy smile that said he wouldn’t sample her until she was ready.
    The suite was no less than she expected. Whitney let the bellman fuss a few moments, then eased him out with a tip. “So…” She plopped down on the sofa and kicked off her shoes. “What time do we leave tomorrow?”
    Instead of answering, he took a shirt from his suitcase, balled it up until it wrinkled, then tossed it over a chair. As Whitney watched, he took various articles of clothing out and draped them here and there throughout the suite.
    “Hotel rooms are so impersonal until you have your own things around, aren’t they?”
    He mumbled something and dropped socks on the carpet. It wasn’t until he moved to her cases that she objected.
    “Just a minute.”
    “Half the game’s illusion,” he told her and tossed a pair of Italian heels into a corner. “I want them to think we’re staying here.”
    She grabbed a silk blouse out of his hands. “We are staying here.”
    “Wrong. Go hang a couple of things in the closet while I mess up the bathroom.”
    Left with the blouse in her hands, Whitney tossed it down and followed him. “What are you talking about?”
    “When Dimitri’s muscle gets here, I want them to think we’re still around. It might only buy us a few hours, but it’s enough.” Systematically, he went through the big, plush bath unwrapping soap and dropping towels. “Go get some of your face junk. We’ll leave a couple bottles.”
    “Oh no we won’t. What the hell am I supposed to do without it?”
    “We ain’t going to the ball, sugar.” He went into the master bedroom and tumbled the covers. “One bed’ll do,” he muttered. “They wouldn’t believe we weren’t sleeping together anyway.”
    “Are you padding your ego or insulting mine?”
    He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and blew out smoke, all without taking his eyes off her. For a moment, just a moment, she wondered what he was capable of. And if she’d like it after all. Saying nothing, he strode back into the next room and began to rifle her cases.
    “Dammit, Doug, those are my things.”
    “You’ll get them back, for Chrissake.” Choosing a handful of cosmetics at random, he started back to the bath.
    “That moisturizer costs me sixty-five dollars a bottle.”
    “For this?” Interested, he turned the bottle over. “And I thought you were practical.”
    “I’m not leaving this room without it.”
    “Okay.” He tossed it back to her and dumped the rest on the vanity. “This’ll do.” As he passed through the suite again, he stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette and lit another. “We’ve got just about enough,” he decided as he crouched down to close Whitney’s case. A little swatch of lace caught his eye. He lifted out a pair of sheer bikini briefs. “You fit in these?” He could see her in them. He knew better than to let his imagination go in that direction, but he could see her in them and nothing else.
    She resisted the urge to snatch them out of his hand. That was easy. The pressure that formed low in her stomach as he brushed his fingers over the material wasn’t as easily controlled. “When you’ve finished playing with my underwear, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
    “We check in.” After a moment, Doug tossed the little excuse of lace back in her bag. “Then we take our bags down the service elevator and get back to the airport. Our flight leaves in an hour.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
    He snapped her bag closed. “Didn’t come up.”
    “I see.”