Hot Ice

money from here on.”
    “Fine.” She gave him a sweet smile he immediately mistrusted. “And I’m holding the envelope.”
    “Forget it.” He handed her back her pack. “Now go change like a good girl.”
    Fury leapt into her eyes. Nasty words scrambled on her tongue. There was a time for temper, Whitney reminded herself, and there was a time for cool heads. Another of her father’s basic rules of business. “I said I’m holding it.”
    “And I said…” But he trailed off at the expression on her face. A woman who’d just been neatly ripped off shouldn’t look smug. Doug glanced down at his pack. She couldn’t have. Then he looked back at her. Like hell she couldn’t.
    Tossing down his pack, he dug into it. It only took a moment. “All right, where is it?”
    Standing in the full sunlight, she lifted her hands, palms up. The brief teddy shifted over her like air. “It doesn’t appear necessary to search me.”
    He narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t possible to keep them from sweeping down her. “Hand it over, Whitney, or you’ll be buck naked in five seconds.”
    “And you’ll have a broken nose.”
    They faced each other, each determined to come out on top. And each with no choice but to accept a standoff.
    “The papers,” he said again, giving masculine strength and dominance one last shot.
    “The money,” she returned, relying on guts and feminine guile.
    Swearing, Doug reached in his back pocket and took out a wad of bills. When she reached for them, he jerked them back out of range. “The papers,” he repeated.
    She studied him. He had a very direct gaze, she decided. Very clear, very frank. And he could lie with the best of them. Still, in some areas, she’d trust him. “Your word,” she demanded. “Such as it is.”
    His word was worth only what he chose it to be worth. With her, he discovered, that would be entirely too much. “You’ve got it.”
    Nodding, she reached behind her, but the envelope had slipped down out of range. “There’re a lot of reasons I don’t like to turn my back on you. But…” With a shrug, she did so. “You’ll have to get it out yourself.”
    He ran his gaze down the smooth line of her back, over the subtle curve of hip. There wasn’t much to her, he thought, but what there was, was excellent. Taking his time, he slipped his hand under the material and worked his way down.
    “Just get the envelope, Douglas. No detours.” She folded her arms under her breasts and stared straight ahead. The brush of his fingers over her skin aroused every nerve. She wasn’t accustomed to being moved by so little.
    “It seems to have slipped down pretty low,” he murmured. “It might take me a while to find it.” It occurred to him that he could indeed have her out of the teddy in five seconds flat. What would she do then? He could have her beneath him on the ground before she’d taken the breath to curse him. Then he’d have what he’d sweated about the night before.
    But then, he thought as his fingers brushed the edge of the envelope, she might have a hold over him he couldn’t afford. Priorities, he reminded himself as his fingers touched both the stiff manila and the soft skin. It was always a matter of priorities.
    It took all her concentration to hold perfectly still. “Douglas, you’ve got two seconds to get it out, or lose the use of your right hand.”
    “A little jumpy, are you?” At least he had the satisfaction of knowing she was churning even as he was. He hadn’t missed the huskiness in her voice or the slight tremor. With the tip between his finger and thumb, he pulled out the envelope.
    Whitney turned quickly, hand outstretched. He had the map, he had the money. He was fully dressed, she was all but naked. He didn’t doubt she could make her way down to the village and wangle herself transportation back to the capital. If he was going to ditch her, there would never be a better time.
    Her eyes stayed on his, calm and direct. Doug didn’t doubt she’d read every thought in his head.
    Though he hesitated, Doug found in this case his word was indeed his word. He slapped the wad of bills into her hand.
    “Honor among thieves—”
    “—is a major cultural myth,” she finished. There’d been a moment, just a moment, when she hadn’t been sure he’d come through. Picking up her pack and the canteen, she walked toward the pine. It was cover of a sort. Though at the moment, she’d have preferred a steel wall with a heavy bolt.