Hot Ice

hear the vibrations of the falls, drumming, drumming, see rocks sparkling a foot beneath her, taste the clear, sweet water that was kissed by the sun. Glancing up, she saw the strong, lean body of the man who was now her partner.
    The idea of danger, or men with guns, of being pursued seemed ludicrous. This was paradise. Whitney didn’t believe in cunning snakes behind luscious flowers. When she surfaced, she was laughing.
    “This is fabulous. We should book in for the weekend.”
    He saw the sun shoot sparks into her hair. “Next time. I’ll even spring for the soap.”
    “Yeah?” He looked attractive, dangerously so. She discovered she preferred a touch of danger in a man. The word boredom, the only word she considered a true obscenity, wouldn’t apply to him. Unexpected. That was the word. She found it had a sensuous ring.
    Testing him, and perhaps herself, she treaded slowly until their bodies were too close for safety. “Trade,” she murmured, keeping her eyes on his as she held out the bottle.
    His fingers tightened on the slick soap so that it nearly slid out of them. Just what the hell was she up to? he asked himself. He’d been around enough to recognize that look in a woman’s eyes. It said—maybe. Why don’t you persuade me? The trouble was, she wasn’t anything like the women he’d known. He wasn’t entirely sure of his moves.
    Instead, he equated her to a job, a high-class, luxury apartment complex that took careful casing, meticulous planning, and intricate legwork before he took it down. Better that he be the thief with her. He knew the rules, because he’d made them.
    “Sure.” He opened his palm so that she had to slide the wet cake of soap from it. In response, she tossed the bottle high, laughing as she retreated. Doug plucked it inches above the water.
    “I hope you don’t mind a touch of jasmine.” Lazily she lifted her other leg and began to run the soap up and down her calf.
    “I can handle it.” He poured the shampoo directly on his hair, rescrewed the cap, then tossed it on the ground beside the lagoon. “Ever been to a public bath?”
    “No.” Curious, she glanced back over. “Have you?”
    “I was in Tokyo a couple years back. It’s an interesting experience.”
    “I usually like to keep the quantity in my tub down to two.” She ran the soap up a thigh. “Cozy, but not crowded.”
    “I’ll bet.” He ducked under to rinse off, and to cool off. She had legs that went all the way up to her waist.
    “Convenient, too,” she said when he’d surfaced. “Especially when you need your back scrubbed.” With a smile, she held out the soap again. “Would you mind?”
    So she wanted to play games, he decided. Well, he rarely turned one down—as long as he’d figured the odds. Taking the soap from her, he began to run it over her shoulder blades. “Marvelous,” she said after a moment. It wasn’t easy to keep her voice even when her stomach had begun to tighten, but she managed. “But then I suppose a man in your line of work has to have clever hands.”
    “It helps. I suppose all that ice cream could buy million-dollar skin.”
    “It helps.”
    His hand ran lower, down her spine, then slowly up again. Unprepared for the jolt it brought her, Whitney shuddered. Doug grinned.
    “Cold?”
    Just who had she managed to push anyway? she wondered. “The water gets chilly unless you move around.” Telling herself it wasn’t a retreat, she gently sidestroked away. Not that easy, sugar, Doug thought. He tossed the soap onto the grass beside the shampoo. In a quick move, he grabbed her ankle.
    “Problem?”
    Effortlessly, he pulled her back toward him. “As long as we’re playing games—”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she began, but the sentence ended on a quick gasp as her body collided with his.
    “The hell you don’t.”
    He found he enjoyed it—the uncertainty, the annoyance, and the flare of awareness that came and went in her eyes. Her body was long and slim. Deliberately, he tangled her legs with his so that she was forced to grab his shoulders to stay afloat.
    “Watch your step, Lord,” she warned.
    “Water games, Whitney. I’ve always been a sucker for them.”
    “I’ll let you know when I want to play.”
    His hands slid up to just under her breasts. “Didn’t you?”
    She’d asked for it. Knowing it didn’t improve her temper one whit. Yes, she’d wanted to play with him, but on her terms, in her own time. She