Page 18 of Sharing Shane

The T-shirt didn’t look at all generic stretched over a broad chest and broader shoulders, the short sleeves so snug on the bulging muscles in his arms they seemed to cut into his biceps. One arm was fully tattooed, intricate swirls of black ink interspersed here and there with bursts of color, the other bare for the dusting of dark hair across his forearms. Forearms that were, she noted with a little sigh, really sexy. Forearm porn. Oh my.

“Oh my, what?” he rumbled, and her gaze darted to his face.

“What?”

“You said, ‘oh, my’,” he repeated. “Oh my, what?”

“I have no idea,” she managed and repressed the urge to laugh. At herself. A lot. Because damn, she was acting like an idiot, and damn, he was absolutely the reason.

He was white with olive-toned skin and dark hair tied in a low ponytail, dark brows that were currently scrunched together as he frowned at her, dark brown eyes that held a hint of wariness, and a full beard that looked soft and thick as a mink pelt.

Not that she knew what mink felt like, but Delia had a fake mink coat that Veronica had borrowed once, and it had been soft and smooth and luxurious. She’d loved it so much she’d kept it for six months, always ‘forgetting’ to return it, and Delia had finally had to threaten her with bodily harm to get it back.

Her palms actually itched to stroke his beard, just to find out if it was as soft as that coat.

“You okay?” he asked, and she realized she was staring at him with her mouth open. Which accounted for the increasing wariness in his teddy bear eyes.

“Sorry.” She snapped her mouth shut and tried a smile. “It’s early.”

“Yeah.” His eyebrows relaxed, just a little. “I’m Shane.”

“Okay.”

“Shane Eklund,” he said, his eyebrows getting all scrunchy again.

“Okay,” she repeated. It was a good name, she mused. She could easily picture herself screaming it in ecstasy, pinned under that big body.

“My boyfriend is Wyatt Robertson.”

“That’s great,” she said, even as her entire body groaned with disappointment. Of course, he was gay, she thought, and mentally substituted a man’s body for hers in her imagination. Wow. That’s pretty hot. Who knew?

He huffed, and her gaze jolted to his in horror. “I didn’t say that out loud, did I?”

His eyes narrowed. “Say what out loud?”

“Never mind,” she said and dropped her gaze. Unfortunately, it landed on the little curl of chest hair visible above the collar of his shirt. It was one little curl, slightly lighter than the hair on his head, and she had the completely inappropriate urge to tug on it with her teeth. Realizing that direction of thought wasn’t going to do her any favors, she cleared her throat and focused on a spot just over his shoulder. “You were saying?”

“I bought your ex-boyfriend’s spot at the resort?” he prompted.

“Oh!” Her eyes snapped back to his. “You’re Shane.”

“That’s what I said.”

She winced and pushed to her feet. “Sorry. I’m not usually so spacey, but I didn’t get my coffee this morning. I’m Veronica Black.”

He took the hand she offered, gave it one firm shake, and dropped it. “I know.”

She frowned. “How do you know?”

He frowned back at her. “I looked you up on Instagram, so I’d recognize you.”

“Oh. That was smart.” Why hadn’t she done that? Then she’d have known she was going to be spending her vacation with a walking, talking wet dream. An unattainable one. Thanks, Delia.

“Right.” He was staring at her warily, a grumpy, sexy beast of a man who was probably reevaluating the life choices that had brought him to this point. “Well, I just thought I should introduce myself.”

She nodded. “Right. Good thought.”

“Okay.” He shifted the duffle he held, slinging it over his shoulder and making all his muscles move. “I guess I’ll see you on the plane.”

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