Falling for the ice quee.., p.3
Falling For the Ice Queen, page 3
He didn’t fight the guards. In fact, he did a fast turn and just evaded their grip. “I know my way out.” He strolled away as the crowd at the luncheon backed up and murmured.
“Pay him no attention, Eliza,” Benedict said as he gave her arm a squeeze. “Just someone coming to stir up old trouble. He was just baiting you. Nothing he said was true. Probably some opportunist who is just looking to cash in on the Robinson—”
She jerked away from her brother. “Stop!” Eliza shouted.
And everyone looked at her.
So much for keeping a low profile. Her father would be so disappointed.
Chapter Three
At Eliza’s sudden cry, Memphis turned back to look at her. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that the guards froze. Memphis had thought he might need to teach them some manners. It should be a normal fact of life—don’t put your hand on someone else. Not unless you want to lose feeling in that hand. Or, if he was feeling particularly annoyed…not unless you want the hand broken.
Eliza gazed back at him, and her beautiful, dark eyes appeared stark. Scared. He didn’t like that. She didn’t need to fear him. He had never hurt a woman in his life, and he never would. He was there to help, not to hurt, and he damn well needed to make that clear to her.
As he stared at her, Eliza pulled in a deep breath. The tension smoothed away from her lovely face as she straightened her shoulders—they’d already been plenty straight—and lifted her slightly pointed chin. “There has been a mistake,” she announced, voice cool and clear.
Yeah, sure, there had been a mistake, she’d mistaken him for one of the dumbass bodyguards her family hired—
“This man was invited,” she continued even as her brother blanched and threw her a look of utter surprise. A weak smile curled her lips before she added, “I apologize for any confusion that was created.”
Anger beat through him. She didn’t need to apologize to the roomful of gawkers who were excitedly whispering about her—and him. She should tell them all to go to hell. That would work better for him than an apology they didn’t need.
The man next to her—Memphis knew it was her older brother, Benedict—leaned in closer to her. The brother was dressed in a starchy white shirt. Khakis. Gleaming leather loafers. He appeared tall and lean, and he shared his sister’s dark hair and eyes.
Beside him, Eliza wore a pale blue dress. Delicate straps slid over her shoulders, and the flowing skirt ended a few inches above her knees. Her hand reached up to touch her brother’s shoulder, and she murmured something to him.
Benedict looked none too pleased, but he nodded.
Ah. Bet she told him to handle the guards.
“Please,” Eliza said, her voice strong and clear again. “Enjoy your lunch. I’m sorry for the interruption.”
And just like that, everyone went back to business as usual. Sure, there were a few more murmurs. Some covert glances. But the shocked silence and gawking disappeared.
Because the queen had spoken.
With her chin up, she walked straight toward Memphis. He had to admire that walk of hers. In two-inch, strappy heels, she managed a rather runway-ready walk that was full of grace and the faintest sensuality. A sensuality that seemed bottled up. Hesitant.
He could help her unbottle it.
When she was right in front of him, Eliza extended her hand. Pale, pink polish adorned her fingernails. “How about we take a stroll in the garden and…talk?”
His fingers curled around hers. No, more like his fingers swallowed hers. She had to feel the rough edge of calluses along his fingertips and his palm. A side effect of his workout regime. But he made sure to keep only a light grip on her. He would never crush her fingers.
Fragile things were always handled with care in his book.
“Just so you know…” Memphis heard himself murmur even as a flood of awareness filled his body. Her skin was fucking soft. “We are going to do one hell of a lot more than just talk.”
As he watched her, Memphis noticed the small shiver that slid over her body. But her chin didn’t lower. Her stare never wavered. “Perhaps.”
And he realized she wasn’t as fragile as the world—and he—believed.
She turned and led him toward the already-open balcony doors.
Her brother stepped forward, and Memphis was sure that Benedict would try to stop them from leaving. Yeah, go ahead and try.
But Eliza just gave a faint shake of her head. Then kept going.
The brother didn’t follow.
Interesting. Memphis didn’t speak again until they’d eased down the stone steps that led to the garden. Lush flowers surrounded them almost immediately, and the rich scent filled his nostrils. The flowers smelled nice, but he liked Eliza’s scent better. He’d first noticed it last night. A light, faint lavender scent had clung to her…as she’d emptied his beer on him.
But that woman—the woman who had told him to “fuck off” in such a beautifully savage tone—she seemed a far cry from the carefully poised lady beside him. The lady who looked entirely too serene and untouchable, even though he was touching her.
And I’d like to touch her a whole lot more.
A development he had not anticipated. When he’d planned for their meeting and eventual partnership, he hadn’t thought there would be any sexual component involved. He’d looked at her pictures, yes, and he’d recognized that she was indeed lovely. But Memphis didn’t typically let a physical attraction get in the way of his goals.
He already knew that things were going to be different, with her. There was nothing typical about Eliza.
She tugged her hand free of his grip.
His brows snapped together. “Why did you do that?”
“Excuse me?”
“You can hold my hand anytime. Don’t have to do it just for show.” Just so she’d know for the future.
Her head tilted. “Are you quite all right?”
Memphis considered the question. “Feeling a little annoyed, truth be told.”
She blushed. Not the first time she’d done that. A rather amusing trait. It wasn’t a deep blush. With her honey cream skin, it just looked like a cute little dusting of pink on the edge of her super sharp cheeks.
“You’re annoyed because of the scene in the ballroom.” Eliza released a faint sigh. “I’m sorry that the guards—”
“That’s it.” A quick nod. “That’s exactly why I’m annoyed.”
“Ah, yes, as I was saying, the guards—”
“Nah. Not annoyed with them. They were just doing their jobs. Poorly, but still trying.” He edged closer to her. Caught the scent of lavender. Loved it. Greedily inhaled more. “I’m pissed because you didn’t need to apologize to those assholes who were gaping at you. So what if their fancy lunch got interrupted? They’ll live.”
“It…was the polite thing to do.”
His fingers rubbed along the stubble that coated his jaw. “Was it?” A shrug. “Can’t say that I ever worry too much about doing the polite thing.”
Her gaze swept over him. “I think I’m learning that.” A delicate pause. “I think the guard you injured probably learned that, too.”
Memphis had to laugh. “Not injured. He just has a temporary loss of feeling. I promise, no permanent damage was done. Well, maybe just to his pride. But the dude should really sharpen up his skills if he wants to play in the big leagues.”
“And you, ah, are a big league? Is that what you’re saying?”
Now he made sure to wipe away all amusement from his face and voice. “I’m whatever you need me to be.”
She paced away from him. Went toward the overflowing, bright red roses. Reached out to touch one. Her fingers trailed over the petals and carefully avoided the thorns. “I thought you were hired by my family.”
“Yes, I got that.” He couldn’t take his gaze off her. “Guessing they’ve hired quite a few bodyguards for you over the years?”
“You could say that.” Her hand fell from the rose. “There might even be someone watching us right now. Half the time, I don’t know when the guards are there. You could say that my father became somewhat hyper-vigilant where I was concerned.” She seemed to brace herself as she turned back toward him. “Even though most of the cops and the media seemed to all decide that I just staged the whole event. The bored heiress who thought it would be hilarious to vanish for a few days, then to show up at her father’s engagement party covered in blood and dirt. What a fun way to steal the spotlight from her soon-to-be-stepmother.”
Yes, he knew that she’d been crucified in the media. “I think the cops did a shitty job of handling your case.”
A hard shake of her head. “It wasn’t their fault. I-I couldn’t show them where I’d been held. Couldn’t remember clearly what had happened in the days I was missing. Couldn’t—”
He stalked toward her. “Do you always make excuses for other people? Make excuses, apologize when you don’t need to…if we’re working together, that shit has got to stop.”
She wet her lower lip. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I want the woman back who told me to ‘fuck off’ last night. I liked her. She had some good fire in her. Bring her to the surface.”
“I-I…” Her lashes swept down to conceal her gaze. Her chin dipped toward her chest. “That wasn’t me.”
“No? Sure as hell looked like you. Even down to the midnight eyes.” He’d never seen eyes quite as dark as hers before. Even Benedict’s hadn’t been the exact shade. Close but…
“It was me, yes,” she retorted, seemingly flustered, “but I meant I don’t normally act that way.”
His fingers slid under her chin. Tipped it up. I like touching her too much. “How do you act?”
“Careful,” she breathed as her lashes lifted and she met his stare.
He leaned toward her. His thumb slid up to touch her lower lip. A light caress. “That sounds boring.” He wanted her mouth. Badly.
“Wh-why are you looking at me that way?”
Because I want to kiss you until you forget about being careful. And that was the way wrong reaction. Memphis didn’t normally deny his impulses, but this scene was different. She was different.
He’d rarely wanted to both fuck someone and protect her from every single threat in the same instance. With Eliza, he did. The big problem he faced?
He was her current threat. Because being with him would totally wreck her carefully ordered world, and he knew it.
Memphis forced his hand to move away from her. He even managed to take a step back, and, honestly, he felt as if he needed a round of applause for that effort. After clearing his throat, he asked, “What made you act that way last night?”
“A dare.”
One brow notched up. “Now I’m curious.”
“I, uh, I thought you were a new bodyguard. My friend Bethany challenged me to tell you to, ahem, fuck off, so I did.”
Interesting. Mental note, Eliza likes a dare. “Did she also tell you to pour the beer on me?”
A wince. “No, that was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Sorry about your shirt.”
He shook his head. “We are gonna break that habit.”
Her brow furrowed at his words, but Eliza doggedly continued, “In my defense…”
Oh, good. She’s defending herself. Do it, baby. Tell me that I was an arrogant ass and—
“You shouldn’t have teased me and said you wanted to have sex with me. You shouldn’t have implied that being with me physically was some sort of bonus perk that came with the job.” She sniffed. “I didn’t find your joke funny, but, obviously, I overreacted.”
Yeah, they were on different pages. Maybe reading totally different books? Time to fix that. “I wasn’t teasing.” He’d just be clear from this point on. “I don’t do that. I say what I mean. Got a super low bullshit tolerance on my end. Honestly, you should try it. You tell more people to fuck off, and you will feel so much better.”
“That’s…not the way the world works.”
“It’s how my world works.”
Her lashes fluttered. “And you weren’t teasing?”
“Nope. I would fuck you right here and now if that was what you wanted.” Outside in the garden, with all those judgmental, whispering pricks inside the building. They’d have privacy, he’d have her.
Her mouth opened, then snapped closed. Her eyes narrowed on him. “That’s not a possibility.”
He looked around. Considered his options. Definitely possible. All he had to do was shove up that cute dress of hers, get her panties out of the way and—
“Could we get back on topic?” Her voice held a brittle edge. “Or were you lying about hunting the person who abducted me?”
All amusement—and tempting thoughts of sex with her—vanished. “I’m not going to lie to you. Not my style. I will always tell you what I think. You might believe I’m an asshole, and you certainly wouldn’t be the first with that opinion, but that’s just how I am.” He had no tolerance for lies. A habit he’d picked up thanks to his father. “How about we start over?”
“I…” She bit her lower lip. “Okay?” A question rife with nerves.
“I’m Memphis Camden.” He extended his hand between them. “Back in the day, I made my living as a bounty hunter.”
Her fingers reached out. Curled around his. “Eliza Robinson. I currently make my living working in the PR department at Robinson Corporation.” A rueful smile tilted her lips. “When you were once an extreme PR disaster, you pick up some skills that help you to clean up messes in the future.”
His fingers tightened around hers. “You were never a disaster. You were a victim. You should have always been treated that way.”
She blinked.
Hell, had that been the flash of tears in her eyes?
She blinked again, and the glimmer—or flash or whatever it had been—vanished. Eliza’s hand pulled away from his.
But he could still feel the heat of her touch against him. That heat had seared right through him. “When I was a bounty hunter, I learned how to stalk my prey. I learned how to slip into the darker side of life. To go into that dark and haul the monsters out.” He’d made quite a bit of money with that career. Taking down the worst of the worst paid well. He’d also gotten pretty lucky with his investments. Lucky enough that if he’d wanted, he could easily buy his way into the country club lifestyle.
Not too bad for a kid who’d grown up wearing thrift store clothes and sweeping out shops for money so that he and his mom could make rent payments.
As for the country club lifestyle? Not really his thing.
“More recently,” he said as her gaze seemed to see right through him, “I’ve been working with some rather talented individuals online.” Their group contained members with all sorts of unique backgrounds and talents. “We call ourselves the Ice Breakers.”
“Ice Breakers?”
“Um. Because our job is to break open cold cases. You know, all those crimes that were never solved? Murderers who weren’t brought to justice? Missing people who vanished and were seemingly forgotten?” He waited a bit when her breathing hitched. “We focus on them. Happy to say that we’ve had a pretty successful run so far.”
She edged closer to him. “You believe me?”
What in the hell kind of question was that?
“You’re here…because you believe I was taken?” Her voice broke a little with excitement. “My family believes me. That’s—that’s why my dad and brother insist on the protection. Even though it’s been years, even though…surely, there’s no way he would come after me again—”
Memphis opened his mouth.
“But the cops couldn’t find evidence. Nothing to point to the person who took me. Then stories started circulating on the gossip sites about the rich girl who faked her kidnapping. My dad’s lawyers said it would be better to just go quiet. To make it all go away.”
That had been shit advice.
“But it never went away.” Her hand rose to press against her chest. “Not for me.”
No, he didn’t imagine that it had.
“You believe me?” she asked again.
“Yeah, baby.” The endearment rolled from him. She is going to matter too much to me. “I do.”
Eliza leapt toward him. Her arms wrapped around him in a fierce, tight grip. “Thank you.”
His hands lifted, then hesitated and kind of hung in the air. Since when do I hesitate? His arms wrapped around Eliza and pulled her even closer against him. Memphis was jolted by just how right she felt against him. Heat filled him, but not just some sexual intensity, though, sure, that was there. But this was more, this was deeper, this was…
Probably big trouble.
Her head lifted. She gazed up at him. A dawning sexual awareness filled her dark eyes. “Oh, my.”
So freaking cute. He started to—
“Eliza!” Nearly a screech of her name. “What in the world are you doing with him?”
She jerked from his arms.
Hell. Leave it to the brother to ruin a good moment.
Chapter Four
Get control of yourself, Eliza! You do not get to embrace strangers. Even if the sexy stranger in question was the first person to give her unwavering support in a very, very long time.
Benedict came to a shuddering stop right beside her. “Have you lost your mind?” he demanded. “One minute, you’re getting security to throw out this—this—”
“Memphis,” she said, a little surprised that her voice came out so unruffled and smooth. “His name is Memphis.”
“Whatever!” Benedict obviously did not care. “You’re trying to throw him out in one breath, and then you’re embracing him in the next!”
The turnaround hadn’t been quite that fast, but she could certainly see why Benedict might have gotten the wrong impression. Her right index finger tapped against the top of her thigh. “He’s going to help with my case.”
Pity flashed on Benedict’s face. “No, Lizzie, he’s not. He’s just another in a long line of scam artists who will try to make you think he’s here to help.”
A long line? Since when was there a line?
