The anxiety in the air between then was thick enough to squelch any conversation. Yet conversation was the reason she was there and her mind was drawing a complete blank. Her mind kept replaying that locker room scene with him brazenly naked and letting her gaze roam over him. When she looked at him now, she couldn’t get a read on Marc. He was playing at something, what she wasn’t sure. There was no reason to go to a hotel room with him, other than her own morbid fascination with the man and the tiny glimmer of hope he’d touch her. He wouldn’t. He was The Iceman. There was no way he’d try to seduce her after what she did to Maddox, even if it was a mistake on her part—one she’d apologized for. Okay, so maybe the apology wasn’t to Maddox’s face, but she’d written the retraction and apology and her bosses had printed it. And that fact was the only reason she’d ultimately agreed to go up with him. No matter how much she wanted him to touch her, it would be inappropriate.
