Page 4 of Into the Lion's Den (Secrets of the Northland Shifters)

The pamphlet he’d given me talked about the resort’s “rustic grandeur,” but the photos hadn’t done the place justice. The same was true for the photos of the owner’s five ridiculously good-looking adult children—and doubly true for the oldest son, Reese Fitzpatrick, who’d apparently been assigned to get me settled.

Reese Fitzpatrick. There was something inherently predatory about his six and a half feet of lean muscle and obvious strength. I swore my body temperature spiked the moment I shook his hand, and it still showed no signs of cooling.

This was bad news, considering my whole reason for being here was to “lie low” and be as inconspicuous as possible. A permanently flushed face wouldn’t lend itself to going unnoticed.

Neither would a job where I’d have to deal with the public.

With my original housekeeping assignment, I’d be in the guests’ rooms when they were out. I’d rarely have to see anyone outside the resort. But an events coordinator? What did I know about party planning?

“Are you okay?” Reese Fitzpatrick’s expression said that I looked just as sweaty as I felt.

“Fine. Yep. Fine. It’s just that I had to take a single-prop plane before catching the bus.” My words came out so quickly, they tumbled over each other. “Never did that before. Pretty terrifying. Hopefully I won’t have to do it again too soon.”

As far as I was concerned, the federal prosecutor could take her own sweet time putting her case together against Carmine DaBruzzi. I would gladly wait a lifetime before I was called back to Chicago to testify about the terrible scene I’d witnessed.

Reese didn’t respond to my nervous babbling. He just jerked his head, tossing his dark brown hair out of his eyes.

He grabbed my two large suitcases as if they were merely filled with feathers and carried them up the wide porch steps.

“When I was in the plane, I started to wonder if this place would be worth risking my life over.” I was really rambling now. My life was in way more danger back in Chicago than it was in any plane.

But my nerves couldn’t be helped. I just hoped they didn’t get worse. Tall, dark, and handsome always did a number on me. Throw in a beard and those full lips...Lord have mercy.

I stopped for a second at the top of the steps. The lodge was built of smoothly polished logs. The porch railing was an artistic masterpiece of twisted willow branches. Even the wrought-iron hardware on the doors looked hand-forged. This place was a complete one-eighty from the tiny cubicle I’d had as an IT specialist for a patent law firm.

“Ms. McAvoy?”

I took it all in, glancing over the surrounding evergreen forest and spotting a sliver of the sparkling lake that peeked through the trees. “But I see now that coming here was totally worth it.”

“Ms. McAvoy?”

If I had to fall off the face of the earth and disappear, this was definitely the place to do it.

“Ms. McAvoy!”

I jumped, realizing he was talking to me.Iwas Sarah McAvoy. No longer Sarah Mitchum. When I turned toward the door, Reese Fitzpatrick was holding it open for me. His expression was one of impatience.

“Sorry.” I followed him in, then audibly gasped. “Oh, it’s gorgeous.”

A fire flickered in the large stone fireplace across from the check-in counter. A black and jewel-toned rug with a Native American floral design lay in front of the hearth. Three deep couches upholstered in worn brown leather provided comfortable seating.

The second floor was open in the center with a railing around the perimeter where guests could look down into the lobby. Throughout the rest of the space, the wood floors gleamed.

“Such great textures,” I murmured. “It makes me want to touch everything.”

Reese grunted, responding to my praise in a way I didn’t quite understand.

I continued to follow him while looking up at the moose-antler chandelier that hung from the second-story ceiling. I was grateful there was so much to look at because... Well, I’d never been around someone who was so difficult to look in the eye.

If male beauty could be blinding, Reese Fitzpatrick put me in serious danger of—

“Uff.” I threw my hands up a second too late and crashed into something solid. I tipped my head back and had to blink twice. Reese Fitzpatrick. Damn. I’d run into a wall of man.

He was looking down at me with a knitted brow. His hypnotic green stare was like a physical touch.

Yikes.

I curled my fingers into the cotton of his T-shirt, and he arched an eyebrow. Only then did I realize what I was doing.

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