Page 5 of Stealth Mission

That thought settles the restlessness spreading through my veins a fraction.

But I can’t stop watching her as she hurries down the sidewalk. Sunlight catches off the long, shiny strands of her hair as she strides away.

Well, damn. What is that feeling in my chest?

Ask me to articulate what just happened in the last few minutes, and I’d fail.

The uneasy feeling isn’t about the robbery or missing my shots—this is 100% her.

In other words, I’m fucked.

Chapter Two

What a freaking day. The shock is wearing off and I’m not happy. Stomping mad, I steam my way down Main Street. Of all things…a damned bank robbery right when I was supposed to be finding out about my loan. I’m so pissed, there’s probably a thunder cloud over my head.

When I see my truck, I remember my other problem… “You better not let me down right now, Gingersnap.”

When I halt next to my driver’s side door, a wall of muscle slams into my back, knocking me forward, scaring a scream out of me.Eeep!

I don’t even have to look to know who it is. He smells good. And I happen to be wearing his mark all over me.

After catching my breath from screaming, I tear into him. “Can you not see?”

His voice stirs the hair next to my ear. “I can see fine. You didn’t give any cues that you were stopping.”

Grrr. “Am I supposed to throw hand signals or something?’

His lips twitch but his eyes are hidden by the shadow from his black baseball cap. “That could work.”

I shake my head, frowning at his reflection in the side window. He’s lucky I don’t throw an elbow. Or hit him with my purse again.

When he steps to the side he’s wearing an expression that makes me think I’ve offended him.

“Don’t even look at me like that. I didn’t know you were a good guy. I still don’t.”

One corner of his mouth tucks in and I get hit by a lightning bolt. That grin, oh my god, he’s hot. Commanding slate-colored eyes, scruff on his jaw, strongly built and a devil-may-care grin.

Kill me now.

I must have really been in a fit earlier not to realize the volume of his sexiness. Now, I know. And alarm bells start blaring in my head as I reach for the door handle.

His voice is even hot. “Who’s Gingersnap?”

Great. He heard me talking to myself. Well technically not just myself. My car too.

“No one.”

When my hand slips off the handle because I’m a mess, he reaches around me and tugs on it, swinging the creaky door open for me.

As he looks at me expectantly, his grin deepens. “You gave your car a name, didn't you?”

I snap my neck back affronted. “You say that like it’s weird.”

“Not weird. I don’t do it. If I did, I guess I’d pick something like Thor, but I think it’s cute you named your truck Gingersnap.”

I throw my purse on the passenger seat where it makes a loud clang. Without looking at his hotness—because my retinas arealready screaming— I climb into the truck, making sure not to rip the torn upholstery even more than it is.

I’m muttering to myself about needing to remember to buy a seat cover when he says something and reminds me he’s still standing there.

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