Hot Ice (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 7) (5 page)

“You got a delivery for me?” Garrett growled.

“Yep. Flash is bringing your tux and suitcase over later. I’ll call you first.”

Garrett finished the call and then loosened his tie and yanked it from his collar. Then he shrugged out of the jacket and tossed it on a chair in the living room. Posh living room with a velvet couch and silk Louis-the-something chairs. His mother had tried to impress fashion and decor on him, but he’d drawn a line. He could tie his own ties—bow or Windsor—and he could pick out a suit and shoes. But furniture was a nonstarter.

His own came from a local cheapo shop because if it was going to get beat up in military moves, he wasn’t investing in anything nice.

There was a piano, and fresh flowers in a vase on a library table that was artfully stacked with books. Knowing Grace Campbell’s type, she’d probably read every last one of them.

He walked through the living room and into the dining room complete with gleaming mahogany table and chairs that were definitely antiques. Fine art graced the walls, but he had no idea what they were beyond landscapes and still lifes.
 

The kitchen was big, with stainless steel appliances, white cabinetry, and gray marble countertops. Definitely the latest and greatest for this woman.

He rolled up his sleeves as he prowled the rest of the downstairs. There was a den with at least a sixty-inch television on the wall and a library lined with leather books. Rich people. His mother would have died to see this place. And she’d have been right at home too, pouring tea and chatting like the fucking queen of England.

He’d started back toward the front of the house when he heard a scraping sound coming from the rear entry. There was no peephole on this door, and he already knew it was shaded from the windows by a portico lined with vines.

He slipped his gun from his shoulder holster and went over by the door. It rattled and scraped—and then it flew open and someone stepped inside.

Garrett lunged.

* * *

Grace was halfway down the stairs when she heard the scream. She’d gone up to change into yoga pants and do her workout, but she’d come back downstairs to get a bottle of water. The scream had her running toward the kitchen. She slid through the door to find her bodyguard with his arm wrapped around her best friend’s neck and his pistol against her temple.

Brooke looked utterly terrified.

“Let her go!”

Garrett glanced at her—and released the woman in his arms. Brooke’s face was pale, her eyes wide as she stood there and gulped for breath. Grace strode over and wrapped her arms around her friend. Brooke’s nose only came to Grace’s boobs, so it was kind of awkward, but she dragged Brooke away from Garrett and made soothing noises.

“I’m all right,” Brooke said, her voice muffled in Grace’s cleavage.

Grace let her go and stepped back. “Sorry.”

Grace linked her hand with Brooke’s and faced the glowering beast in her kitchen. The handsome glowering beast.

Oh dear God.

He’d removed his jacket and tie. His sleeves were rolled up, and he’d unbuttoned the first couple of buttons of his shirt. She saw ink. Lots of colorful ink. And a scowl that made her gulp when she raised her gaze to his again.

“You didn’t tell me you were expecting company,” Garrett growled at her. He slipped the pistol into his shoulder holster and glared at her.

“She has a key, for God’s sake. I didn’t think you’d attack someone with a key!”

“Unless I know they’re coming, I’m stopping anyone from getting to you. That’s the job, cupcake.”

Grace felt Brooke stiffen at the ridiculous nickname. Grace had decided to ignore it since she was pretty sure he did it to get under her skin. Brooke laughed softly, which Grace found a little shocking. Brooke was supposed to be offended on her behalf, but she broke free from Grace’s grip and walked over to Garrett.
 

“I’m sorry I surprised you like that, but I didn’t know you were here. I’m Brooke Sullivan, Grace’s best friend.”

Garrett took her hand in his, and Grace felt a little twinge of something she couldn’t name. Irritation perhaps?

“Nice to meet you, Brooke. I’m Garrett. And I apologize for putting a gun to your head.”

Brooke laughed that sweet tinkle of a laugh she had that meant she was putting on the flirty. Or maybe Grace just imagined the flirty. But she thought Garrett probably liked Brooke a whole lot more than he liked her.

For one thing, he was smiling now. And it transformed his face from handsome to oh-em-gee panty-melting. Since when did she like big tough guys with tattoos anyway? She was all about refined men. Men who wore suits but who didn’t talk like a sailor on shore leave. Men with educations and prospects, not men who wielded guns for a living.

Snob
.

Grace sniffed. She wasn’t a snob, dammit. She just knew what kind of man she liked. Not that men had been thick on the ground in her life lately, but there was always hope.

Not for the first time, she wished she was little and cute like Brooke. If she looked like Brooke, she might get more attention. Instead, she was tall and plain, and that just didn’t excite many men.
 

She thought of Tim and his newfound interest in her and grimaced. Maybe she should have accepted his invitation after all. Who cared if it was because of her father’s announcement?

“So, Grace didn’t tell me she was getting a bodyguard.” Brooke threw her a look over her cute little shoulder. Grace resisted the urge to stick out her tongue, but only barely.

“Daddy sprung him on me. I couldn’t say no.”

“And why would you want to?” Brooke practically purred.

Grace folded her arms. “Trust me, I wanted to. He’s mean, for one thing. And he has a dirty mouth.”

“Dirty mouths are the best.” Brooke’s voice had dropped an octave.
 

Grace rolled her eyes. “Oh for heaven’s sake, stop that.”

Brooke laughed. Garrett was looking at her with interest now, a mischievous smile still on his face.
 

“
Both
of you,” Grace added with a twinge of something very like jealousy.

Garrett’s eyes snapped to hers, cooling marginally as they did so. His expression settled into something much less friendly when he looked at her.

“Whatever you say, ma’am,” he drawled in that Southern voice of his. But then he turned back to Brooke, and his expression softened. “I’m sorry I scared you. I only hope I wasn’t too rough.”

The way he said the word
rough
sent liquid heat sliding through Grace’s bones.
 

“Not at all,” Brooke said. “You weren’t rough at all.”

“Brooke,” Grace snapped, and her friend jerked toward her. “Help me pick out something for tonight, okay?”

The sunny smile was back on Brooke’s perky face. “Of course.”

She sauntered toward Grace, her attention off of Mr. Dirty Mouth for now.
 

“I’m thinking the LBD with pearls. Classic!” Brooke sailed right past Grace and continued toward the stairs.
 

Grace turned to follow—but not before she gave Garrett her best “stay away from my friend” glare. And not before he put his hand to his lips and blew her a kiss. She was certain it was a kiss
off
—but it still made her heart pound in ways she wished it wouldn’t. She ran up the stairs after Brooke, determined to shut Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sexy out of her head for a while.

When she got upstairs, however, Brooke was standing in front of her closet, bouncing up and down.
 

“Oh my God, Grace, where did your father find
him
? Wow, that man is smoking hot! Lucky girl.”

Grace frowned. “I don’t feel so lucky. I feel caged.”

“Aw, honey, I’m sorry.” Brooke came over and tugged her down on the edge of the bed. “I know you hate crowds and strangers, but really, this one is
so
fine. Oh, those tattoos—that chest! Wouldn’t it be nice to have a little fun for a change?”

Grace blinked at her. “Fun? I thought
you
wanted him! Are you really suggesting that I should…”

She couldn’t finish the sentence. Brooke’s eyes were twinkling. “I can’t remember the last time you had a date, and now you’ve got a man in your house for what I can only assume is around-the-clock protection.” She frowned. “There won’t be another one coming to take his place, will there? Shift work?”

Grace shook her head. “He’s staying here, in the house with me.”

“Hot damn!”

“Brooke, for heaven’s sake, he had a gun to your temple! Shouldn’t you be a little less understanding about all this?”

“Oh, that wasn’t pleasant, I’ll grant you that—but it’s over now, and he’s here to protect you.” Brooke’s expression turned stern. “Which I am glad for, Grace. You don’t have any idea who tried to grab you—or why—and what if they return? Your father is very high profile right now—and you’re a target.”

“So are my sisters.”

“Not like you, sweetie. Your sisters live in different states, but you’re right here.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It wouldn’t if a man hadn’t accosted you in a parking lot a few nights ago. And he called you by name. That’s not a random mugging.”

“No, I know it’s not.”
 

Brooke giggled suddenly. “You ever see
The Bodyguard
? Whitney Houston, Kevin Costner? So romantic!”

Grace gave her a light slap on the arm. “No, I haven’t. And this isn’t romantic!”

Brooke fell back on the bed and put an arm over her forehead. “Girl, you have to see that movie—when he carries her off stage, oh… swoon.”

“Brooke, this is not a movie. That man down there is ill-tempered and foulmouthed. And he doesn’t like me at all!”

Oh dear. That last had sounded like a wail. Brooke sat up, blinking.

“He doesn’t like you? How is that possible? He doesn’t even know you!”

“He thinks he does. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m a spoiled daddy’s girl—and God knows what else he thinks.”

“Oh.” Brooke frowned. And then she got a gleam in her eyes that Grace recognized. “You used the Helena Voice on him, didn’t you?”

Grace groaned. “Yes, God help me, I used my mother’s voice on him. He didn’t take it very well.”

“I’ve told you that Helena Campbell is the only person on earth who can pull that off. You shouldn’t even try it.”

“I didn’t mean to! It just came out. And he deserved it, by the way. He was high-handed and arrogant.”

Brooke burst out laughing. “You’re doing it again, sweetie. So prim and scandalized.”

Grace wanted to punch something. “I can only be me, Brooke. I’m doing the best I can.”

Brooke got up and patted her on the shoulder before heading for the closet. “Well, let’s find something that will showcase some of your more appealing assets.”

Grace followed her. She knew what Brooke was up to, and she wasn’t sure she approved. “There’s nothing in this closet that’s going to turn that man’s head. Nor do I want to, I should add. He’s not my type. At all.”

Brooke stopped and stared at her. Then she laughed. “Not your type? Tall, hot, and handsome? Packing heat and muscle on a fine body and willing to use all of it to protect you? Oh, sweetie, if that’s not your type, you need to get yourself checked out.”

Grace’s heart thumped. “He’s pretty to look at, I’ll grant you that. But he’s here to do a job—and he’s not interested in me any more than I’m interested in him.”

“Ye of little faith. Let’s see what’s in this closet, shall we?”

“Nothing that magical, I promise.”

Brooke pointed at her. “And you’re wearing your contacts tonight, like it or not. No arguments, chica. Those baby blues are going to shine.”

“Bossy today, aren’t you?”

“I’m PMSing. Don’t mess with me.”

Grace couldn’t help but laugh as her friend started flipping through dresses. An hour later, they had the perfect outfit.
 

Brooke dusted her hands as if she’d just performed magic. “I have to get to the shop, but I’ll come back and do your makeup later. What time is this thing?”

“Cocktails at six.”
 

“Then I’ll get here at four thirty. That will give us an hour before your sexy bodyguard has to get you in the car.”

* * *

His clothes were delivered later that afternoon by a grinning Flash. Garrett only frowned as the man walked into the foyer and dropped his suitcase.

Garrett took the bag with his tux and hung it on a hook by the door. “What’s got you so amused?”

“You. Playing house with a senator’s daughter.”

Garrett walked back toward the media room where he’d been following the news. Flash followed.

“Not playing house,” Garrett said, sinking down and grabbing the remote. “Just making sure our princess doesn’t get grabbed by the baddies.”

Flash flopped into a silk chair, legs sprawling. “Man, since when do we have to play bodyguard for Washington power brokers and their kids? Our place is in the field, taking care of business, not here.”