the ice cold nude

“I had a long inner struggle,” I said modestly, “but finally I had to give in—catching a murderess and a murderer was just a shade more important than keeping that date with you.”

She thought about it for a while. “I’d like to believe that,” she said finally. The great thaw had hit. The icicles were gone from her voice, and now her tawny eyes radiated awarmth that was almost fiery even.

“Poor Danny,” she said suddenly. “What bad luck— finding out your client was the thief!”

“I had another client,” I said smugly, “and he paid off like real handsomely.”

I showed her Rutter’s check for five grand and her eyes widened again. “Danny! That’s an enormous amount of money.”

“Big enough for a vacation,” I said casually. “I was thinking of Acapulco maybe—the Bahamas—you decide.”

“I couldn’t do that,” she said wistfully. “It wouldn’t be fair for me to choose where you spend your vacation.”

“Who’s talking about my vacation?” I asked sharply. “I’m talking about our vacation!”

The gleam in her eyes was suddenly subdued by a caution signal. “Danny Boyd,” she said slowly, “are you making me some kind of proposition?”

“What else?” I said smoothly. “You name it—we go there!”

“Somewhere along the line there has to be a price tag,” she said regretfully, it seemed to me.

“I was thinking of someplace where they have rum-based drinks superior to the Luau Bar,” I admitted.

I watched in silent fascination while maybe a dozen different emotions played tag back and forward across her face. Finally, a steady, resolute determination won out over all the others, and she sat up straight, squaring her shoulders.

“I’ve made up my mind, Danny,” she said in a taut voice.

“Okay, honey,” I said with genuine regret. “It’s your life and you got the right to make your decisions.”

“All my life I’ve prided myself on being alert,” she said, ignoring my comments completely. “The straight pass, the underhand, the clandestine—I could pick ’em all from way back.”

“It must be something of a record for a redhead stacked the way you’re stacked honey,” I said dismally.

“And where has it gotten me?” she asked in fierce rhetoric. “No place! Danny Boyd, we’ll go to the Bahamas!” “Well, I tried,” I said. “It’s too bad you—what?”

She smiled at me triumphantly. “We are going to the Bahamas. I’ll have a bag packed in an hour! I’ve spent all my life fending off guys like you and where has it gotten me!—a lousy job in a crummy jewelry store where the boss turns out to be a thief! So now I’m going to find out what happens to a girl when she doesn’t resist a pass!”

“I can t^ll you right now, honey,” I said truthfully. “But I figure on saving it for the Bahamas!”