Hot Ice

he shook his head. “I’ll pass. You’re doing enough for both of us.”
    “Don’t be a stick-in-the-mud.” She poked a finger into his chest. “The Merina know a party pooper when they see one.” She linked her hands behind him and swayed. “All you have to do is move your feet.”
    On their own power, his hands slipped down to her hips to feel the movement. “Just my feet?”
    Tilting her head, she aimed a deadly look from beneath her lashes. “If that’s the best you can do—” She let out a quick whoop when he swung her in a circle.
    “Just try to keep up with me, sugar.” In a flash, he had an arm hooked behind her, and extending the other, gripped her hand. He held the dramatic tango pose for a moment, then moved smoothly forward. They broke, turned, and came back together.
    “Damn, Douglas, I think you might be a fun date after all.”
    As they continued, stepping, swaying, then moving forward, their dance caught the crowd’s approval. They turned so their faces were close, their bodies facing, hand extended to hand as Doug guided her backward.
    Her heart began to drum pleasantly, both from the pleasure of being foolish and the constant brush of his body against hers. His breath was warm. His eyes, so unusual and clear, stayed on hers. It wasn’t often she thought of him as a strong man, but now, caught close, she felt the ripple of muscle in his back, along his shoulders. Whitney tilted her head back in challenge. She’d match him, step for step.
    He whirled her so quickly her vision blurred. Then she felt herself being flung back. Freely, she let her body go so that her head nearly brushed the ground in the exaggerated dip. Just as quickly, she was upright and caught against him. His mouth was only a whisper from hers.
    They had only to move—only a slight shift of their heads would bring their lips together. Both were breathing quickly, from the exertion, from the excitement. She could smell the muskiness of light sweat, the hint of wine and rich meat. He’d taste of all of them.
    They had only to move—a fraction closer. And what then?
    “What the hell,” Doug muttered. Even as his hand tightened at her waist, even as her lashes fluttered down, he heard the roar of an engine. His head swiveled around. He tensed like a cat so quickly that Whitney blinked.
    “Shit.” Grabbing her hand, Doug ran for cover. Because he had to make do, he pushed her up against the side of a house and pressed himself against her.
    “What the hell’re you doing? One tango, and you turn into a crazy man.”
    “Just don’t move.”
    “I don’t…” Then she heard it too, loud and clear above them. “What is it?”
    “Helicopter.” He prayed the overhang of the steeply pitched roof and the shade it spread would keep them from view.
    She managed to peer over his shoulder. She could hear it, but she couldn’t see it. “It could be anyone.”
    “Could be. I don’t risk my life on could be’s. Dimitri doesn’t like to waste time.” And dammit, he thought as he looked for shelter and escape, how could he have found them in the middle of nowhere? Cautiously, he glanced around. There would be no running. “That mop of blonde hair would stand out like a road sign.”
    “Even under pressure, you’re full of charm, Douglas.”
    “Let’s just hope he doesn’t decide to land to get a closer look.” The words were hardly out of his mouth when the sound grew louder. Even on the far side of the house, they felt the wind from the blades. Dust billowed up.
    “You had to give him the idea.”
    “Shut up a minute.” He glanced behind him, poised to run. Where? he asked himself in disgust. Where the hell to? They were cornered as neatly as if they’d run down a blind alley.
    At the whisper of a sound, he whirled, fists lifted. Marie stopped, raising her hand for silence. Gesturing, she hurried along the side of the house. With her back pressed against the wall, she moved along the west side to the door. Though it meant putting his luck into the hands of a woman again, Doug followed, keeping Whitney’s hand in his.
    Once inside, he signaled to them both to remain still and silent before he moved to the window. Keeping well to the side, he peered out.
    The helicopter was some distance away on the flatland at the base of the hills. Already Remo was striding toward the crowd of celebrants.
    “Sonofabitch,” Doug muttered. Sooner or later, it was going to come down to dealing with Remo. He had to make