Page 14 of Wrecked on the Mountain
"N-nice to meet you," I manage, proud that my voice only shakes a little.
He takes my hand, and just like yesterday, the contact sends electricity shooting straight to my core. But instead of a quick professional handshake, he holds on, thumb brushing across my knuckles in a way that's completely inappropriate and absolutely deliberate.
"The pleasure," he says, voice pitched low enough that Martha can't hear, "is all mine, sweetheart. You look surprised, Doc. Didn’t peg me as the buttoned-up type?"
Sweetheart.He called me sweetheart in that gravelly voice, and my body responds like he just whispered dirty promises in my ear.
This is so bad.
This is so, so bad.
My mind races with forbidden images that I totally should not be having right now.
His powerful hands pinning my wrists above my head, those intense blue eyes holding me captive as he claims my mouth. I imagine his weight pressing me down, those tattooed arms flexing as he takes what he wants.
I've never been this instantly, desperately attracted to anyone.
I can't help it.
I want him to back me against the wall, lift me onto his desk, bend me over and lay claim on every inch of my skin.
But this isn't me. I don't fantasize about being dominated, about surrendering control. I'm Dr. Brooke Shields. I give orders, not take them.
But something about Jamie makes me want to yield, to let someone else be in charge.
And that's good, I guess… because he's my fuckingboss!
Martha clears her throat pointedly. "Should I leave you two to get... acquainted?"
Jamie's hand is still holding mine, thumb still doing that maddening thing across my knuckles that's making it hard to think straight.
"Yes," he says, finally releasing my hand but not stepping back. "We should get started. Dr. Shields has a lot to learn about our operation."
"I'm sure she's a fast learner," Martha says, reaching out for my coffee cup and taking it.
"We'll find out." Jamie's eyes never leave mine. "Come on, Doc. Let me show you around."
He turns and starts walking deeper into the building, clearly expecting me to follow. I do, like some kind of hormone-addled puppy, trying to focus as he leads me deeper into what can only be described as mountain rescue paradise.
I try to focus on his professional briefing, but it's a losing battle.
Especially when he keeps doing this thing where he leans close to explain equipment, and I catch hints of his aftershave. Seriously, it's so addictive it makes me want to bury my face in his neck.
"We monitor weather, missing persons alerts, forest conditions," he continues, gesturing to multiple screens that look like something out of a NASA control room. "Response time is critical up here, so we stay connected to everything at all times. The team rotates on a roster and you will be expected to do the same."
"Night shifts. Check." I nod and ignore the pounding in my chest, focusing on the tour instead.
The setup is incredibly impressive.
Professional-grade equipment, backup systems, even what appears to be satellite communication capability.
"This is... wow," I say, genuinely amazed. "This isn't what I expected from a small-town operation."
"Whatdidyou expect?" There's an edge to his voice, like my surprise might be an insult.
"Honestly? Some old radios and hope," I admit, which makes him laugh a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through my chest.
"We take mountain rescue seriously around here," he says, moving toward the next area. "People's lives depend on us getting it right."
