Page 3 of Into the Lion's Den (Secrets of the Northland Shifters)

“Whew! Made it!” The woman reached out her hand toward me.

I shook it, fascinated by the feel of her skin. Incredibly soft. Warm. Solid grip.

“Sarah McAvoy,” she said.

“Ms. McAvoy?” I checked my list and found her at the bottom—the newest addition with the assignment: housekeeping.

We had plenty of housekeepers. What I needed was a new events coordinator to replace the one who’d quit that morning.

“Yep,” the young woman responded, smiling up at me—though only briefly—with a wide, expressive mouth. “In the flesh.”

And she most certainly was. Her shirt was a V-neck, and there was just a hint of cleavage. Such pretty, pretty flesh for a big cat to sink its teeth into.

Her eyes dropped for one second to my clipboard-shielded crotch, then quickly refocused on the front door to the lodge. My mountain lion paced back and forth inside my skin, restless to get out.

“So,” she said. “When is orientation?”

I brushed my hair out of my eyes and was about to smooth my thumb over my eyebrow when I stopped myself. The lion was so close to the surface now I’d actually started topreenfor this woman.

I cursed myself for not getting that haircut, then forced myself to check my libido. I was no adolescent, hardly a kitten. It was time to focus on the job. “Do you have a college degree?”

“Um...yes,” she said. “But I thought—”

“Do you have any office experience?”

She looked at me like she didn’t know how to answer my question. I thought it had been simple enough.

“I was told I was going to be a housekeeper,” she said.

“I need an events coordinator. You have a degree, and judging by your age—”

“My age?”

“I’m guessing you have more office experience than any of our other employees, so you’re it. The job requires you to take reservations and coordinate with vendors to meet the groups’ requirements. If you have a brain, above-average organizational skills, and the ability to speak coherently on the phone, you can do the job. It’ll be a nice bump in pay for you.”

“That... That sounds like a verypublic-facing job,” she said.

The animal beneath my skin snarled impatiently. It, like me, was both intrigued and irritated by her resistance. Who balked at a job that offered more money?

“Do you have a problem with the public?” I asked.

“Not usually, but—”

“Then it’s settled.”

Her lips parted on a breath. Full, bitable lips.

“Your office is already set up.” That’s when I remembered something I probably should have thought of before. Her office would be right next door to mine.

Working every day next to Dorothy, the old events coordinator, wasn’t an issue. Working next to this woman, day in and day out... A woman who piqued the urges I’d always done my damnedest to suppress...

Sam’s earlier complaint echoed in my head. He was absolutely right. It was gonna be one fuck of a long spring.

2

SARAH McAVOY

Six weeks ago, when I entered the federal witness-protection program, U.S. Deputy Marshal John Riordan informed me that he’d arranged both housing and work for me at the Evergreen Resort and Retreat Center in the far northeastern corner of Minnesota. It was the perfect place for me to hide.

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