Cold as Ice Read Free

he's only been with me for a few months. I don't know how I managed without him—he knows more about me and my life than I do. But you know how men like that are—they get a little possessive of their bosses. Look, I don't want to spend the afternoon talking about Peter—he's about as interesting as watching grass grow. Let's talk about you, pretty lady, and what brought you here."
    She started to reach for her briefcase, but he covered her hand with his big one and gave an easy laugh. "To hell with business. We have plenty of time for that. I mean, what brought you to an old-fart law firm like Roper and company? Tell me about your life, your loves and hates, and most of all tell me what you want my chef to prepare for dinner."
    "Oh, I can't possibly stay. I have a plane to catch to Costa Rica."
    "Oh, but you can't possibly leave," Harry mimicked her. "I'm bored, and I know your associates would want you to make me happy. I won't be happy unless I have someone to flirt with over dinner. Those oil wells aren't going to dry up overnight—nothing will happen if I don't sign the deeds of transference till later. I promise, I'll sign your papers, and I'll even see that you get to Costa Rica, though why you'd want to go to that pesthole is beyond me. But in the meantime, forget about business and tell me about you."
    Genevieve let go of the briefcase, and after a moment he let go of her hand. She should have been uneasy, but he was such a simple puppy dog of a man, wanting someone to play with him, throw a ball for him, that she couldn't feel edgy. He was harmless, and she could play along for a while. As long as he didn't start humping her leg.
    "Whatever your chef cares to make," she said.
    "And what do you drink? Appletinis, right?"
    Any kind of martini made her stomach turn, though she'd downed more than her share of them in order to fit in at the requisite social functions that Roper sponsored. Cosmopolitans were the worst, and everyone assumed she loved them. Her
Sex and the City
persona must have been very effective.
    But he was one of the ten richest men in the western world, and he could get anything he wanted. "Tab," she said.
    She'd managed to throw him. "What's Tab?"
    "A hard-to-find diet soda. And not that revolting energy drink version. Never mind, I was just kidding. Whatever you're having."
    "Nonsense. Peter!" Harry barely had to raise his voice. His assistant entered the room so
silently he only increased her feeling of uneasiness. "I need you to get some kind of soda pop called Tab.
Apparently it's what Ms. Spenser drinks."
    Jensen's colorless eyes slid over her. "Of course, sir. It might take an hour or so but I'm certain some will be available."
    "That's fine, then. The original—not any newfangled crap. Ms. Spenser is staying for dinner, of course. Tell the chef I want him to do his very best work."
    "I'm afraid, sir, that the chef has left."
    It was enough to wipe the charming smile off Harry's handsome face. "Don't be ridiculous. He's been with me for years! He wouldn't take off without warning."
    "I'm sorry, sir. I have no idea whether his reasons were professional or personal, I simply know he's gone."
    Harry shook his head. "Unbelievable! That's the fifth long-term employee of mine who's left without notice."
    "Sixth, sir, if you count my predecessor," Jensen murmured.
    "I want you to look into this, Jensen," Harry said in a dark voice. But then his sunny smile took over. "In the meantime, I'm sure you can find someone to take Olaf's place and rustle up something wonderful for me and my guest."
    "Certainly."
    "I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble in the midst of such a domestic crisis," Genevieve interrupted. "Really, you could just sign the papers and I'll take off—"
    "I wouldn't hear of it," Harry said grandly. "You traveled all this way just for me—the least I can do is feed you properly. See to it, Peter."
    She watched Harry's assistant disappear with a twinge of regret. There was no