Page 12 of Stealth Mission

I shiver as those words slide down through me. All of it.

Not that he has to speak to have the effect of a wrecking ball.

All he’d have to do is loosen that dark gray tie, unbutton his black dress shirt to expose that broad expanse of chest and women would fall into his bed.

Me included.

Christ on a cracker.What is wrong with me?

I teeter on my heels. Not that I’m particularly good at wearing them, but every little thing he utters registers on the Richter scale.

It sure rattled my windows.

Fighting for a normal breath, I realize my right hand has moved nervously to lay at the base of my throat. I’ve studied body language enough to know this is a move humans make when they feel threatened or unsure. But I couldn’t stop myself if I had to.

I blow out a little breath. “It’s been a weird day and I can’t seem to find my emotional center. I just hope you weren’t thinking about me because you had a headache from my purse cracking your skull.”

This pleases him. His lips curve.

I hold up my electric-blue sequin clutch. It’s the one sparkly thing I own. “See, I have the small purse tonight. Nothing hard inside this one.”

The rumble of humor in his chest makes my nipples tighten. A panicked thought hits me—any second they will be visible through the thin dress I’m wearing.

His grin deepens to the kind of cocky male smirk that does serious damage. “No cracks or dents in my head. But I have to ask what you had in there that felt like a fifty-pound kettlebell?”

I pinch my lip between my teeth. “It was a replacement part for the PTO—power take-off—on my tractor.”

His brows quirk up as he whistles. “Damn. That’s the last thing I expected you to say. And I know what a PTO is, by the way. I grew up around farm equipment. But honestly, I was thinking if it wasn’t a weight, maybe it was more like a Colt 45 with a scope.”

I shiver. “Oh no. Not in my purse. I don’t like guns. I have them at home because of wild animals and snakes, but I don’t walk around with one. Which reminds me, do you always carry when you’re on vacation?”

He glances away and straightens his suit coat. “Depends.”

Weird answer.

The shift in his playful mood is abrupt. Now he looks tough. Deadly, even.

More questions spin through my head. Including self recrimination. I hate that I find him even sexier looking that way.

Nerves fluttering, I realize I’m about to turn into that girl—the one that talks because she’s about to rip open at the seams. I clear my throat. “Well, thanks again for trying to step in during the robbery.”

He shifts, rubs at the back of his neck, causing the fabric of his shirt and jacket to pull tight. “I would like to have stopped them.”

“You tried. That’s more than I can say for anyone else.”

I have to force my eyes up so I don’t drool. He looks so fine in a suit. The way his shirt hugs his narrow waist is impossible to ignore.

My lips twitch. I can hear my best friend from college, Mellie, replying to that thought.Girl, that is not fine. That is god-like.

There are a lot of muscles under that perfectly fitted sleek black suit and onyx black shirt. I felt every single one of them when I slammed into him. And when he ran into me.

Well, not every single one of his muscles. I bet he’s got…

Oh.My god.

I can’t believe I just tried to picture his cock.

Maybe I’m the one that took the anvil to the head.

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