Page 27 of Deadly Attraction
Another plus.
Emma left him behind, heading for the felled tree and tin cans. As he watched from the protection of the trees, she set up the cans on the log, then backed up twenty paces and checked her gun.
Satisfied, she eyed her target. Her chest expanded, then stilled as she raised the S&W and aimed at the first can.
No rushing. A balanced stance. Self-confidence radiating off her. She looked as competent as any agent at the firing range.
Pfft, the gun discharged, a bullet whizzing at her target.
Dead pine needles and dust mushroomed into the air where the bullet hit the ground.
Another breath and she moved her hand ever so slightly, realigning.
Pfft.
Another miss, this one coming closer and digging into the dead bark of the tree.
A sigh of defeat escaped her lips and she looked over her shoulder at him. An embarrassed, tight smile trembled on her lips. “See what I mean?”
“Do you need your glasses?” he joked.
It wasn’t really a joke. He hated that frustrated smile, the defeat in her voice. Everything she was doing seemed spot on. Her vision, however, might not be the culprit. He’d seen it plenty of times before.
“Only when reading,” she replied. “Distance vision is 20/20. Any other ideas?”
Walking over to her, he checked her weapon’s site, found nothing wrong. “Take your firing stance again.”
She did and he tucked himself behind her, peering over her shoulder. She smelled like citrus and horses and good, clean air, and hell on wheels, he breathed that sweet scent deep into his lungs, letting his eyes fall closed for a moment.
Snap out of it.
But he couldn’t. It’d been so damn long since he’d been intrigued by a woman. Since he’d found one who was good at getting him to forget the never-ending pain and grief lodged under his breastbone.
“Mitch?”
Her soft voice brought his eyes open. He cleared his throat. She glanced at him from her peripheral vision, keeping her gun aimed at the cans. “Is everything alright?”
Wanting to touch her, he put his hands on her shoulders—just a light touch—to make her relax a bit. “See that bird on the red can’s label?”
Her breath hitched, her body tightening ever so slightly under his touch. She swung her gaze back to the can, her voice coming out higher, lighter. “Yep, got it.”
“Let the can, the tree, everything else fall away.” He removed his hands but kept close to her, enjoying the feel of her heat, the way his presence had the pulse under her ear jumping. “Concentrate on the eye of the bird, Emma. Just that and that alone.”
She gave him an almost imperceptible nod. “Have you taught many people to shoot?”
Too many. Hell, he’d taught Mac all those years ago, and look what good that had done.
Blinking, he barred the ugly memories from derailing this moment in the woods with a beautiful woman. Moments like this were too few and far between. “Focus.”
Another tiny nod. Her fingers flexed as she adjusted her grip. Deep breath—
Mitch stepped back.
—Pfft!
The clang of the bullet hitting the tin can rang out, echoing in the clearing.
Emma lowered the gun and whirled, a giant smile on her face. “I did it!”
