Page 8 of Shane

Yikes.A shiver raced up her spine at the magnetic connection she felt with this guy. The space between them crackled with electricity. Her throat worked just to swallow. Did he feel it too?

Oh, Jiminy Christmas, will you look at those lips.They were firm and right then pinched into two flat lines that declared utter disdain and disapproval. He hadn’t yet offered one word to lessen her acute embarrassment. Not one. But her nostrils still flared at the old-fashioned scents of starch and spicy, masculine deodorant, mixed with a heady hint of cigarette smoke, wind, and what she was pretty sure was whiskey, coming off this guy.

Drinking already? So early? Meh. Who cares.

“H-how may I assist you?” she asked, her voice as hoarse and breathy as if this guy, whose name she didn’t yet know, had just blessed her with an orgasm instead of a deathly glower. Even the manly disapproval on his face radiated enough sexual attraction to make her knees weak. Not what she needed, considering her well-deserved rep as a fall hazard. Which made her sound old and feeble, which Everlee most definitely was not. She’d just had a string of bad luck and that was over. Bad things came in threes. She’d filled the cosmically defined quota, damn it. In spades.

Clearing her throat and intending to sound stern, certainly more professional, Everlee’s mouth ended up asking, “Whatz up?” as if he were just one of the TEAM guys. Which he wasn’t. Them, she knew.

“I’m here for a job interview,” he answered as he released her, his deep voice flat and emotionless. Sticking two thick, long fingers behind the Windsor knot at his throat, he loosened his coffee-spattered tie and ripped it from his collar. The thing snapped like a tiny whip, which only served to heighten the crazy, inappropriate sexual attraction Everlee was feeling.

Taking her wandering fingers back, she covered her mouth and coughed, then handed over the napkins and let this guy wipe the mess off himself. She could act just as bored as he was. To prove it, she turned her back and hobbled to her temporary workstation. “Your name?” she tossed indifferently over her shoulder.

He growled a throaty, “Shane Hayes.”

“Hmm. You’re not on Mr. Stewart’s calendar this morning.” At least she’d thoroughly scrutinized that before this disastrous meeting.

“I was told Senior Agent Mark Houston handled employment interviews.”

“Mark. Right. He does,” was all Everlee’s steamy, scattered brain could come up with, as she settled her butt into the chair behind the customer service desk again. Damn Mondays. Of course Mark handled interviews. Everyone knew that. “Let me check Mark’s calendar. Your name?”

This guy had followed her and was right then standing in her frag zone—or maybe she was in his. Thick, masculine brows lifted over those gorgeous eyes, creating a corresponding set of manly wrinkles across his forehead that only added to the caveman sex appeal he had going. He cleared his throat. “Already told you, ma’am. Shane. Hayes,” he repeated extra slowly, like she was a dolt.

But oh, yeah. He had said that, hadn’t he? By then, Mr. Hayes was standing nearly at attention on his side of her counter. He’d taken his suit jacket off. It draped over his left arm and his tie was wound around his right fist. That magnificent stubbled chin of his dipped low to his clavicles while he patted the Caffè Vanilla Frappuccino stains on his chest and down his centerline and…

Oh. My. Hell.He wasn’t wearing a t-shirt. Everlee’s throat went bone dry at the sight of two dusky, flat nipples revealed through the wet, white shirt.Dayam.

Embarrassed she was openly ogling this stranger, she squeezed her eyes shut to break the connection that had no business sizzling between them. Not like he’d felt it, because if he had, he wouldn’t be acting like such a prick. She had no idea why she’d considered this guy handsome in the first place, not as stuffy as he was. Man, she needed to get laid.

Everlee forced her eyes back open and pulled up Mark’s Monday To-Do-List on the computer without glancing even one more time at Mr. Stuffy Hayes. “I really am sorry, but you startled me. You’re early. Mark hasn’t come in yet.”

“I’ll wait.”

Still avoiding eye contact, Everlee nodded toward the corner of the coffee kiosk and the adjoining sitting area of comfy chairs around a coffee table scattered with shooting magazines. This guy had as much personality as a post. “Please take a seat, Mr. Hayes. I’ll let Mark know you’re here the minute he arrives. And please let me pay to have your shirt and tie dry cleaned. It’s the least I can do.”

He glared out the front entry as if watching for somebody. Man, this guy was as tense as a post, too. Downright rigid. Didn’t he know he’d score higher if he relaxed before job interviews?

“Never mind. I’ll take care of it myself.”

Of course you will.

“At least let me get coffee for you while you wait, okay?” Everlee poured sincerity into the question. Alex was right. Shewasan accident waiting to happen, and apparently, she’d happened all over this poor man right before an important interview. She’d ruined his first impression.

But what a sight. Tall, dark, and incredibly handsome, this man moved with the smooth grace of a lethal predator. Those dark blue eyes of his parsed the front lobby as if he were judging it on sight and finding everything in it insignificant. He acted like he owned the place. As if he ruled The TEAM, and Alex was merely an interloper keeping his seat warm until he showed up.

From this safe distance, Everlee could better appreciate the bespoke suit of gunmetal gray Shane Hayes was wearing. His shirt was more silver than just plain white, and she wouldn’t be surprised if its buttons weren’t stamped with Winchester or Remington. Whoever this guy was, he was thickly muscled, built like a boxer, thin hipped, long legged, but arms and hands loose at his sides. He was light on his feet, considering the bulk of his neck and shoulders and…

Man, that chest. Heat unspooled at Everlee’s core, and she was pretty sure she was drooling. She ran her fingers over her lips just in case. This guy’s biceps strained the sleeves of the jacket he’d just put back on, and damned if hiding that chest under a jacket wasn’t a crime. Shane Hayes was simply thicker and taller than Alex. Where Alex had an elegant, gentlemanly build, this man was built like a brick wall. Not even his expensive suit could hide that.

Hayes shook his head when two gorgeous Springer Spaniels appeared at the front door, their long, pink tongues hanging out, their entire bodies waggling like they thought he’d be thrilled to see them.

“Are those your dogs? They’re beauti—”

“Yes, damn it,” he hissed, cutting her off. “I’ll be right back.”

Chapter Four

Shane was halfway to the door when that gorgeous, but addle-brained woman at the front desk called out, “Bring them inside. They’ll fit right in. We love dogs here.”

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