Page 14 of Ship Outta Luck

“It’s a Jeep, ma’am.”

His formal tone screamsmilitary,but the heat in his eyes, the way they travel up and down my body—triggers an instant response.

Nobody has looked at me like that since… Well, nobody Iwantedto look at me like that, at least.

Like he wouldn’t mind having more than dinner with me.

Like maybe I’m on the menu, too.

CHAPTER

FOUR

DEAN

June Legarde,PhD, stands in front of me in a blazing fury. Deep brown eyes narrow in anger, going wide as I introduce myself. Her face softens with a smile, and my breath catches. Vibrant oranges and pinks halo around her, the sky purpling into dusk in a blaze of glory.

She’s even more gorgeous up close.

I swallow, my lips curving in an automatic grin, needing to play nice. Needing to convince her to trust me, even if she puts me on edge. No, her beauty puts me on edge. My last girlfriend taught me that lesson.

June Legarde is the target. Don’t forget that.

“Well, June, what will you be drinking tonight?” I offer my arm with a wink, like leading her into the building will give me some kind of control. But when she slides her hand into the crook of my elbow, it doesn’t feel like control.

My chest aches.

Why can’t the past stay buried?

We walk through the door, and the sounds from the highway fade. Jimmy Buffett croons about a lost shaker of salt over the raucous noise of people having a good time.

The occasional too-loud laugh, the clatter of forks on plates and the smell of salty, fried food invade my senses as I take in the surroundings.

Two visible exits.

One in back, to what looks like a marina, and the one we walked in. Probably at least one more, out the back of the kitchen. People mill around, light from their phones illuminating their faces as they wait to be seated.

We head to the hostess stand, and I try not to notice June constantly sneaking looks up at me. It shouldn’t leave me weak in the knees.

Two hundred and fifty pounds of hard-won muscle, towering at six foot five, and I’m KO’d by this woman’s casual touch.

Fucking hell.

Gritting my teeth, I chance a backwards glance at Pierce. He animatedly chats up Charlie, who, as usual, looks completely unimpressed by him. She definitely doesn’t seem rattled by the fact she just ran over a would-be gunman.

June squeezes my forearm, slightly startling me.

Shit, what did she just ask? “I didn’t catch that, princess.”

“I said you better be buying.” She leans in, her soft curves in all the right places, pressing against me. Thank fuck HQ okayed contact with her on our way in, because now all I can think about is how much more contact I want with her.

“And I only want the strongest margarita in Texas.” An eyebrow arches, her lips a thin line of frustration. “You wouldn’t believe the awful day I’ve had.”

“I would,” I say, too confident.

She blinks in surprise.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I amend. Putty. I’m like fucking putty in her delicate hands. Standing a little taller, I take a breath. “Try me. I’m a good listener.”

---