Free Ice Cold by Cherry Adair Page B

like tossed gravel as it pinged and clattered against glass and metal. The sky hung so low Honey imagined if she stuck her hand out the window, she’d be able to touch it. Of course, that would mean putting her arm across Navarro, which wasn’t going to happen. They were already so close they were breathing the same cold air.
    “Drop Winston on the way.” Navarro didn’t look up as he gave the order.
    “Will do.”
    Like she was a bag of laundry. On the other hand, having a warm, quiet place to set up her computer, with no outside interference, without him as a distraction, would be awesome.
    They pulled up in front of a high-rise office building on a busy street in the city center. Here, with its mix of businesses, retail shops, and high-rise flats, the streets would always be busy, allowing an operative to come and go unnoticed. A good, practical location for a safehouse.
    Honey took note of a dress shop’s gleaming windows near the glass doors to the building, the ABC chemist shop across the street, and the closed newspaper kiosk on the corner. A few people braved the weather, bundled from nose to toes, leaning into the wind, and moving as quickly as the slick pavement allowed.
    “Thirteenth floor. Walk up from twelve, they’re expecting you.”
    While Navarro scooted over, opened the door, and climbed out, a woman striding in the opposite direction snagged Honey’s attention. Ankle length, black coat, head covered by a black wool hat, and practically dragging a small, tan and black dog beside her. The dog barked, straining on his leash, while the elegantly dressed woman hauled it along willy-nilly. Something about the woman reminded Honey of the grandmother and little boy in Dresden the day before.
    “You getting out?” Navarro asked, arm braced on the car’s roof as he leaned in to talk to her, bringing with him a blast of frigid air.
    “Out. Thanks.” Honey buttoned her coat all the way to her throat before sliding across the seat. She swung her booted feet out onto the street. Navarro didn’t step back, and when she straightened, they were nose to nose, his arms bracketing her body. He knew with parallax that the driver couldn’t see what they were doing, damn him. His breath was warm on her upturned face. After giving him a nanosecond to back up, she spread her hand on his chest and gave a little shove.
    Immovable object.
    “Stop messing with me, Navarro.” She gave him a slightly harder push. “I’m cold and hungry, and we both have work to do.”
    “Hmm. But first—” He dipped his head, settling his mouth on hers.
    His lips, firm and warm, glided over hers. He didn’t ask, and he didn’t invade, oh, no; he was much too calculating and sneaky for that. He just took. He waited until she had to part her lips to drag in a ragged breath, then his tongue slipped inside, shocking her with his heated boldness.
    He tasted of the coffee he’d drunk on the flight, dark and rich, addictive and so bad for her. Too much caffeine stripped the bones of calcium. Gave her the shakes. Just like what kissing him was doing to her. She had to bring this foolishness to a stop. Right away. Now… In a second.
    Navarro slid a warm hand around her nape, drawing her closer still, making her shudder in response. His fingers lightly combed through her neatly coiled hair, and Honey felt the cool brush as he unerringly found the hidden pins and loosened them so her hair tumbled in what felt like slo-mo around her shoulders.
    The pressure of his mouth on hers was addictive. Her body craved more, and when she found herself pressing closer, wrapping her arm around his waist to hold him—Honey ripped her mouth from his.
    “Step back,” she said quietly and coolly, heart racing and skin clammy despite the Arctic weather. The driver was just a couple feet away, and there were people on the street. The man would screw anything not nailed down. Everything Catherine told her was true. “Need a hearing aid, Navarro? Out of my