Chapter Seven
Everlee kept an eye on Shane from her corner of the Stewarts' massive stone patio, where she sat enjoying her second helping of Kelsey's decadent chocolate mousse dessert. He'd thrown back two shots of Jameson when they'd first arrived after Alex and the guys cornered him. But he'd switched to ice-water during Kelsey's magnificent feast, what she'd called just another ‘family' dinner. She must have an in with some pretty good local caterers because this impromptu meal included not only huge slabs of tender, juicy roast beef, a ton of buttery mashed potatoes, and buckets of rich, brown gravy, but enough yeast rolls, spicy hot wings, fries, pizza, and coleslaw to feed an army. Kelsey sure knew how to take care of her guys. What man didn't like hot wings?
Shane seemed to fit right in with this hardcore, former military group. He'd sure made a statement after everyone sat down to eat when he bowed his head, though. Everlee had stopped talking, hell, everyone had, even Alex, when Shane offered a short, but unexpected blessing over the food. Nothing fancy, just a quick ‘thank you, Heavenly Father for this food. May it strengthen our bodies and refresh our spirits.'
But no one had ever done that before, and Everlee knew for a fact that most of these guys went to one church or the other. Dayum, that fierce looking man might be fighting PTSD, but he had one helluva backbone, to pray in front of everyone like that, even his boss.
She'd worried about him after the episode in the lobby. It had been frightening to see a man as hefty and muscled as Shane collapse. But it had also brought everyone together, including Shane, in a way he hadn't seemed to realize. Yes, falling made him look weak, but once Beau showed up, Shane seemed to connect with his new team in a deeper way than most agents. That was what every veteran needed, to fit back into the America they'd fought for once they returned home. Better yet, in Beau, Shane found a fellow warrior suffering with his own boatload of PTSD demons.
At the moment, he, Connor Maher, and Maverick Carson, all with mugs of after-dinner coffee in their hands, were discussing the latest football scores over by Alex's dogs' kennel, which was empty. The spring sun was setting. Pretty soon everyone would leave or migrate inside. Both Whisper and Smoke, Alex's former EOD dogs, were prowling between chairs, around people, and under tables. Like the Stewarts' personal clean-up crew, they snarfed tidbits that had fallen, as well as helped themselves to low-lying goodies in any unwary child's hands.
Harley Mortimer, one of Alex's four senior agents, was seated on a barstool at the outside kitchenette, joking as he fixed root beer floats in fancy, frosted mugs for the kids, and there were dozens of them. Lexie Stewart, Alex's oldest, was somewhere inside with the younger set, while Alex had his baby boy, Bradley, on his hip while they made rounds and chatted with everyone.
Everlee guessed Harley's wife Judy must be inside too, which stood to reason. Her twin boys—well, Georgie anyway, not so much Little A—was a holy terror. At last summer's TEAM picnic, the one Alex threw together to welcome the Seattle agents moving to Virginia, Georgie faked drowning. No kidding!
At first, he'd played at spraying everyone with the hose he'd found near the deep end of the pool. Then, after he'd ditched the hose and was horsing around with Little A back at the shallow end, everyone stopped paying attention. That was when, with all the noise and activity, Georgie had snuck along the wall of the pool, then ducked underwater and out of sight, and made it back to the deep end beneath the diving board. There, he'd dived down, then sat cross-legged on the pool's floor, unseen and breathing from the same hose, waiting to be noticed. The little shit. No one realized he'd unhooked the hose and left it dangling a few inches in the water.
He got noticed all right. Never before had Everlee seen so many men and women dive into a pool at the same time after Judy screamed, "Harley! He's drowning!"
Even Alex.
But Harley got to Georgie first. By the time he'd stormed out of the pool with his naughty son laughing hysterically and draped over his arm, Judy was in tears and the picnic was ruined. And right there, in front of everyone, Harley turned Georgie over his knee and spanked the little guy's bottom. Harley cried while he did it, but with every smack, he explained the spanking was for Georgie scaring his mother to death. Truth was, Georgie had scared the hell out of Harley, too.
After a while, when everyone's heartrates had settled back to normal sinus rhythm, Harley'd made Georgie go person-to-person and apologize for being thoughtless. By the end of his teary mission, he'd had to face his mom. That ended up being the hardest apology of all. Judy had cried throughout his entire punishment. But when her turn came for an apology, Georgie sobbed in his mother's arms. Guess he'd never realized how much his death would've hurt the people he loved. He'd wanted to leave the picnic then, said his stomach hurt. But Harley'd made him stay for the fireworks show Alex always ended his picnics with. By the time the Mortimers begged off and went home, Georgie was one docile, repentant, little lamb.
So, yeah. Judy had to be inside riding herd on her troublemaking son. Unfortunately, for tonight's impromptu dinner, many agents were absent. Zack Lennox for one. He was out of the country, along with Persia Judge, David Tao and his wife, plus a couple others. Walker Judge was probably on his way to join them in China again, God bless them all. They were Alex's Asian Child Smuggling Task Force.
The new guy, Cord Shepherd, was right then tipped back on two legs of his chair across the patio, laughing heartily at something either Seth McCray or his wife Devereaux said. Everlee was pretty sure Cord and Devereaux were brother and sister, just hadn't confirmed it yet. But they looked so much alike. What else could they be to each other?
Scottie stayed close to his dad, and Everlee noticed how Seth kept one arm on the back of his son's chair. How he'd reach over and ruffle Scottie's hair every so often, or lean into Scottie's ear and say something that made him laugh. Like most of the men here, Seth was a darned good father, the kind of man who made a woman sit up and take notice. Like Deveraux was noticing Seth right then, him whispering in Scottie's ear, continually drawing him into the conversation. Everlee could swear Dev had stars in her eyes.
Sigh. What woman didn't want a man like that? Not that Everlee was looking for a man. She most certainly was not. She was good with being alone. In fact, she was better by herself. Less drama. Fewer lame-assed excuses to put up with. No lies to deal with, either. People were wrong, alone did not mean lonely, nope. It meant living her life the way she wanted, without answering to anyone or having to explain her actions. Alone meant she had no one to be afraid of. Not that she was afraid. She wasn't that woman anymore. And if all else failed, she had Blade. Her pittie might be her very own snuggle bunny, but he was hell on steroids with strangers, even with one particular creep who wasn't so much a stranger as a persistent stranger-danger.
Forcing those sneaky, uncomfortable thoughts of past dramas out of her head, Everlee looked around, took a deep breath of springtime in Virginia, and allowed herself to savor the moment. Man, there was a lot of handsome male eye-candy to behold in the Stewarts' backyard, all of it broad-shouldered, tall, tanned, and stand-out-in-a-crowd damned-good-looking. Her tongue ran a quick lap over her top lip, then paused at the corner of her mouth. This rare view of so much masculine beauty in one place at the same time was one of the perks of working for Alex.
There was magic in watching her boss in his natural environment, too. It made Alex a hundred percent more attractive knowing he doted on his kids, how he sprang to attention without being asked whenever Kelsey needed an assist. Even if she didn't. How those two lovebirds eyed each other and how kindly they treated each other. Men who respected their wives instead of belittling them or using their shortcomings to make themselves look better were few and far between in Everlee's experience. Who would've ever guessed the abrupt, sharp-tongued man Alex was in the office, the guy who could make anyone back down with just a word or one of his famous glares, was a pussycat at home? Didn't that make him an even hotter commodity, to see him so wrapped around his pretty wife's pinkie finger?
Sigh. Yeah. It did. Problem was men like him were always married. They'd found their happily-ever-afters. Too bad for Everlee. But that was the breaks, wasn't it? Bad decisions made in haste led to consequences that lasted years. Drat. Her chocolate mousse was gone and, judging by the happily married couples scattered across the yard, the world had gone on without her. Like always…
As if! Like a rockstar, Everlee tore her eyes off the unattainable TEAM quarterback standing over there with his Kelsey, and let that foolish daydream go. Everlee wasn't a homewrecker, damn it. And it was obvious to anyone with two eyes that Alex was well-spoken for.
Everlee killed the stupid high-school-girl crush. Just snuffed it out like pinching the flame on a candle she'd had no business lighting in the first place. She'd entertained the silly daydream long enough. Alex definitely had the whole alpha-male vibe going for him, but Kelsey had cornered that market. Like Libby had Mark, Mei had Zack, Dev had Seth, Judy had Harley, and Everlee had—
Damn. Showing up at these TEAM dinners, parties, and picnics sucked. Everlee knew damned well where her daydream had come from. Despite loving who she'd become and where she was going, there was a hollow space in her chest that ached like a cold fireplace at get-togethers like this. Everyone here had someone to go home with. Even Shane had made plenty of friends, that whole brothers-in-arms bonding guy-thing. The TEAM had certainly welcomed him like a long-lost brother, and that was good. She was happy for him.
So why was she sitting by herself, feeling sorry for herself? Because everywhere she went, Everlee was the third, fifth, or seventh wheel. Forever the good sport and always the odd man out. Yeah, she was really rocking the whole self-pity vibe tonight. Definitely time to leave. Where the hell was Shane?
Setting her empty plate aside, she scanned Alex's backyard one last time. Mark was still sitting with his wife Libby at one of the twenty or so round tables. Beau Villanueva and Doc Fitz, newlyweds Jameson and Maddie Tenney, as well as Renner Graves and his wife Tara, and Tripp and Ashley McClane were seated with Mark at his table. Renner's kids, Jessica and Tanner, were two of the many gathered around Harley waiting their turn for root beer floats. He had a knack for handling children and keeping their attention. The three super-trained but loveable Malinois puppies he'd brought with him helped. Kids loved his dogs, and damn, those pups were smart.
There were days Everlee wished she'd hooked up with one of Harley's pups instead of her pittie. Less drool. But she loved Blade, and he'd proven himself adept at protecting her, as well as heading nightmares off at the pass. Either by sticking his slobbery snout in her face or by sprawling his heavy, muscled body over hers like one of those weighted blankets. Only he whined, which she guessed was his way of telling her she'd be okay. Considering the alternative—sweating, shrieking like a banshee, and fighting her blankets—snuggling a heavyweight like Blade was a relief to wake up to in the middle of scary nights. He always made her feel safe, and, in his way, he grounded her, too.
Her traitorous eyes strayed back to where Shane stood with his arms folded over his chest, his legs spread in that dominant way men stood. Still by the kennel, Alex and Kelsey were talking with him now. Shane's back was to Everlee. Alex was facing her, not focused on her, though. Instead, focused on Shane.
Bradley was now asleep on his mom's shoulder. Alex's black GSD sat at rapt attention at his knee, but just like Alex was attentive to Shane, Whisper's shiny black eyes were definitely fixed on Kelsey. Which made Everlee smile. Alex might rule the world at work, but here at home? Even his dogs knew better.
She let her eyes scroll down that stiff spine to Shane's slender waist and from there, to his ass. Just like the rest of him, it was taut and muscled. Was probably as hard as his chest. Or his biceps. Or his forearms. An inkling of attraction sparked to life deep in her gut. What would he be like in bed, bossy or willing? Generous or selfish as shit? Would he think he had to compete with her? Would he respect her?
She blinked those foolish thoughts right out of her head. Respect was a hard line for her. Kindness, too. As for love and all its romantic lies? She'd given up on that fairytale long before she'd ever left home. As much as she had adored her dad, he was a selfish prick who'd never had a problem leaving her and her mother behind while he cruised every last hotrod race between the Evergreen racetrack in Washington to the Daytona in Florida. But after he'd snapped and did what he did? She'd never forgive him.
That Alex had somehow garnered the devotion of gentle, honorable men like himself, said a lot about the guy. He had no tolerance for men who didn't respect women or women who didn't respect men. He expected honor from his TEAM and, by hell, he got it.
Just then Shane glanced over his shoulder. His sharp-eyed gaze pierced Everlee as if he knew she'd been watching his ass, which she had. Although, his very masculine front was pretty good eye-candy, too. She fluttered her fingers at him and gave the standard it's time to leave head nod toward the street. Most guys understood that. But it still surprised her when he nodded politely to Kelsey, said something to Alex, stepped back, excused himself, and headed straight for Everlee.
"Are you ready to go?" he asked quietly, as he folded his lean, muscled body onto the empty bench beside her. His hands fell loose between his knees, and his elbows landed on his thighs. With its top two buttons undone, his shirt stretched in all the best places. Across his taut, wide shoulders and impressive chest, giving her a glimpse of crisp, black chest hairs. Why that sparked her libido said a lot about how long it had been since she'd had sex.
Which was, let's see… Well over two years ago. That ought to make me damned nearly virginal, right? Probably not. Virginity was one of those seals that, once broken, could never be restored. Like indelible ink, if you chose unwisely, you carried the stain of your stupidity for the rest of your life.
"I am if you are," she replied.
Automatically, her gaze strayed to his left hand, to his ring finger. Nothing there, not even an indentation or untanned line where a ring might've been. Good. Not that all married men wore wedding bands. Not that she cared one way or the other. Shane could do whatever he wanted.
But rule number one in a single woman's life was: Never date married men .
She hadn't appreciated being cheated on; she'd never do it to another woman. Daydreaming about her boss was different. That was just stupid, life-is-boring-at-the-moment infatuation. Alex was a dynamic, damned good-looking man, but not once had he been anything less than professional, and she'd never—ever—made a move on him. Hadn't even flirted. Wouldn't think of it. Because cheating on your spouse was underhanded, stupid, and just plain mean. Besides, Alex was an extra-happily married man. Blowing out a breath of pent-up sexual frustration, Everlee was done being an idiot. Alex belongs to Kelsey. Case closed. Moving right along…
"And no, I'm not married," Shane said as he rolled his sleeves up his arm into halves, which showed off his impressive tan, and damned if those forearms weren't as solid as the rest of him. Even his biceps seemed too bulky for his shirt.
"Well, aren't you the cocky one?" was all Everlee could come up with. She knew her neck had turned red with embarrassment. She could feel the heat. A flaming crimson tide would soon creep up and over her cheeks like a blazing beacon for all to see. Darn her red-headed complexion. Despite being half Puerto Rican, the fair-skinned Irish in her ruled her emotions.
"Relax. I caught you checking me out, that's all. How about you? Single, engaged, or still looking?" he asked, his tone indifferent, and his gaze across the yard.
She fluttered the bare fingers on her left hand. "You forgot divorced."
He shrugged the bulky shoulder nearest her. "You're kidding. You're way too young to have been married, much less divorced."
"Biggest mistake of my life." Everlee tried for distraction. Her failed marriage was the last thing she wanted to talk about. "Bet you've got a girl in every port and every post you've been stationed in."
"Nope. Never played fast and loose. Never had time." Whatever that meant.
He flexed both hands into fists, then relaxed them, and again, they dropped between his knees. And like the sex-starved fool she was, Everlee's gaze scrolled over the impressive build of the man beside her. What was it about the dark hairs on this guy's tanned arms and the purplish veins on the insides of those muscular arms that made her mind wander? There wasn't one part of Shane that didn't scream All American Male. His build. His bulk. The scent of him. Yet there was a vulnerable side to him, too. She'd seen it just this morning. How could a man so obviously strong and capable, so capable and fit, ever fall prey to PTSD? He seemed put together. Confident and lethal. Not broken, but okay, maybe fractured a little around the edges. But that just made him like everyone else here tonight. Even me.
Everlee blushed at the semi-still-there, light brown stains down the front of his shirt. Man, she'd gotten him good. He hadn't bothered to stop at his place to change on their way to the Stewarts' house, and she knew Mark gave him at least a week's worth of TEAM polos like he did with new hires on their first day. Yet Shane hadn't changed into one of them, either. Why not? Was he just that confident that he didn't care what anyone thought? Seemed like it.
"Alex wants us to tackle a mission."
She wiggled her boot in case he'd forgotten she was temporarily sidelined from active duty. "Must not be a walking mission," she teased.
"No. Nothing OCONUS and nothing too difficult. He wants us to locate a Ms. Tuesday Bremmer in Dallas, Texas, and bring her back to DC for questioning. That's all."
"Why?"
Shane hmphed. "Because apparently, the FBI has worse ROEs than Alex, and The TEAM can get things done they can't. Alex'll send the brief to your email as soon as he—"
Her cell phone pinged an incoming notification. "And there it is. So, what's Ms. Bremmer wanted for?"
"For murdering Atchison Bremmer, her husband of five years, their three-year-old son Toby and two-month-old daughter Betsy. Allegedly, last month in New York City, she disabled the smoke alarms in their Fifth Avenue apartment, poured charcoal lighter fluid throughout the rooms, then lit the place up. As if that wasn't bad enough, on her way out, she chained the apartment doors from the outside hall to keep everyone locked inside. She burned them to death while they slept, and the apartment manager has the security footage to prove it."
Everlee gasped. "She killed her own children?" Like killing anyone's child made her less of a monster.
Shane nodded grimly. "Oddest thing though, she'd purchased five-hundred-thousand-dollar life insurance policies on each of the kids and increased the payoff on her husband's policy to a million before she killed them. But then she let herself be filmed chaining the only exit, the double doors, while the fire alarms went off. FBI thinks they've got an alibi-proof case. They're investigating her first husband's death now, too. But Alex isn't convinced."
Everlee let that slide. Alex had been at odds with the FBI forever. He'd made a few friends, including FBI Director Zachary Strong, the man President Adams appointed. Also, Tucker Chase, the director of the Bureau's one and only Paranormal Unit. But for the most part, he had nothing good to say about the Bureau.
"She was married before?" Amazing.
"Yeah. Her first hubby, Frederick Lamb. Also in New York."
"Was she the beneficiary on his life insurance policy, too?"
"Not sure. Alex only knows he was quite a bit older and he died of a heart attack about six years ago. According to the FBI's ME who examined Lamb's body, no one suspected they were looking at murder. Guess Lamb had a history of minor cardiac events, so there was no suspicion. But with these last three deaths, the Bureau's exhuming the body to do a more thorough examination."
"How old are you talking?"
Shane's lips pursed. "Forty-two years difference. Ms. Bremmer's only twenty-six now. She was seventeen when she married him. Talk about a winter/spring romance."
Everlee shivered at the image that honeymoon invoked. Yuck. A creepy old guy with a seventeen-year-old child-bride who'd probably never had sex. Did she and Lamb even consummate their marriage? Worse, Ms. Bremmer had gotten pregnant pretty damned fast the second time around, if that three-year-old boy was hers. Was insurance fraud her plan all along? And for that, she killed that boy and a two-month-old baby girl? What a sicko! "She's a black widow is what she is, and she's been busy. How old was she when she married Atchison Bremmer?"
"Twenty-one."
"Criminy, she didn't even let her first husband's body get cold. How long was she married to Lamb?"
Shane grunted. "You're gonna love this. They'd only been together a little over three years before he died."
"Jiminy Christmas," Everlee breathed. "She was so young. Do you think she might've had a psychotic break?"
"That would make sense, but I get the feeling Alex doesn't think so, nor does he trust the Bureau's intel. We may not have all the facts."
"Alex doesn't like most Bureau agents. He's been burned too many times. When does he want us to leave?"
"Tomorrow morning if Doc Fitz clears us for duty. He thinks you're going stir-crazy, that this mission'll get you away from the customer service desk. Sounds easy enough if you ask me."
"That's because this isn't Afghanistan, and we won't be in combat. Of course it sounds easy, but there's no such thing as an easy op, big guy." She fist-bumped his biceps for emphasis. "The instant you even think the word, everything goes belly-up. So lay off the easy op crap."
"I'm sure we can handle whatever pops. What do you think? You game or would you rather baby that ankle another week? It's been what, a month or so now?"
Her hackles lifted. He'd taunted her on purpose. "Six weeks, Hayes. My ankle's fine. The real question is, can you pass Doc Fitz's exam? Huh?"
He shrugged at her less than gracious comeback. "Guess we'll find out tomorrow. Alex said he'll have someone called Mother take care of our travel arrangements." Shane turned back to the Stewarts and gave Alex a thumbs-up. Alex acknowledged him with a stiff chin nod.
Shane turned back to Everlee and asked under his breath, "Does his mom seriously work for him?"
Everlee snickered. "Heck, no. Mother is Sasha Kennedy, The TEAM's master techie. She goes by Mother or Mom, and except for Alex's, she handles all TEAM reservations. Maddie Tenney, Alex's protocol officer, handles his schedule and travel affairs. I'll bet Mother already has everything lined up for us." Everlee tugged her cell out of her jeans pocket as another notification hit. "Yup. Did you get it?"
Shane was on his cell, too. "That was fast. Looks like we're leaving after we meet with Doc Fitz and Alex. Darn, that won't give me much time to make arrangements for my girls."
"Don't worry. Us agents with dogs just drop our fur babies off with Harley before we head out to wherever we're going. He runs the kennels, which includes boarding, training, and whatever Molly and Dolly need while we're gone. Cool, huh?"
"Incredible," Shane murmured. "Mr. Stewart really takes care of his agents, doesn't he?"
"That's what makes his TEAM the best to work for." She tipped back a bit to look closer at him. And damn, her breath hitched like she was some star-struck Chippendale fan. Which she would never. But sitting this close to Shane was… was… yeah. Breathtaking. The alpha vibes rolling off of him matched Alex. His meltdown earlier magnified the sharp edges to his face, neck, and... those arms.
"L-looks like you had a good time schmoozing tonight," she muttered to get her brain back on business.
"Hard not to. Alex has a solid team. Everyone here's been easy to talk with."
"Plus…" She hesitated. Sharing her PTSD stories was hard, which is why she hadn't shared any. Didn't need go to any shrinks, either. "I suspect everyone's been telling you their own personal PTSD stories. You do realize we've all got it, one way or another. What happened to you this morning probably encouraged everyone else to open up. Look around. Dinner at the Stewarts is group therapy at its best. Some of these guys' wives have lived through some pretty awful crap, too. See McKenna over there?"
"You mean Doc Fitz?"
"Yes. Her mother's sisters, her aunts for Pete's sake, tried to kill her. That's when she met Beau."
"Sounds like he's been through some real shit, too."
Everlee nodded. "He has. Scuttlebutt says Alex almost fired him. You heard Beau mention how Maverick fell through a concrete floor. Well, Beau's the one who jumped down into that hole after him, did heart compressions until EMTs arrived, and pretty much saved his life. Us guys from the Seattle office heard it was touch-and-go for a while, and I think that happened during the same time Mother lost her daughter. So yeah, like Alex says, we're a banged-up bunch of losers, but we're all he's got."
"He really says that?"
"He's a Marine. What'd you expect him to say? Something sweet?" Everlee chuckled. "That'd be the day."
Shane scratched the back of his head. "Guess not. He's one powerful son of a bitch, though. Almost didn't believe it when he told Mark to hire me. Not the way he stormed out and slammed the door behind him."
"He can be a hothead," Everlee said thoughtfully. What she wouldn't give to have been a fly on Mark's office wall during that interview. She'd heard a door slam. But why had a simple job interview pissed Alex off? That was the real question. As much as she wanted to ask Shane what happened, she opted instead for, "Have you ever thought of taking something for anxiety?"
His brows slammed together, and she had to stop herself from licking the pad of her thumb and scrubbing those adorable lines out from between his brows. Hot damn. This guy had the thickest eyelashes, but those testy brows were masculine as hell. When he frowned, the winkles between them turned him into an indisputable alpha. The five o'clock scruff shadowing his jaw didn't hurt his sex appeal none, but those deep, dark blues and the worry lines between his brows shot a healthy dose of lust to Everlee's core, one that was downright intoxicating. In another place and time, she might just—
"I already take crap for migraines," he declared with conviction, completely oblivious to what had to be her glassy-eyed stare. "And I've got my girls. They work just fine."
He leaned forward and looked around Everlee, so she turned and looked, too. She'd forgotten both Dolly and Molly were lying beneath the expansive shade cast over most of the yard by the maple tree in the opposite corner. Their attention was solely on Shane. When he snapped his fingers, they bolted across the lawn to him, then sat like twin statues at his feet, their bodies quivering as they waited for his command.
Everlee put her fingertips to her lips and laughed. Man, if only Blade behaved as well as these two Springer Spaniels. If only he obeyed as quickly. But he tended to be more creampuff than obedient, and he was built like a snuggly, warm tank. These two happy girls made her big bad boy look like a roly-poly pansy, but she wouldn't have him any other way.
Shane's dark eyes scrolled from his dogs back to Everlee. "Something funny?"
She shook her head, loving the picture of this damaged warrior with his ‘girls.' "They adore you, don't they?"
"I guess. I'm the one who feeds them, aren't I?"
Everlee curled her fingers into a fist and smacked his biceps, fully aware how solid this man was. How close he was. How good he smelled, outdoorsy with a hint of cigarette smoke. No scent of whiskey though, despite the shots he'd tossed back before dinner.
"It's more than that, and you know it. They love you, Shane, and I'm a little jealous. Blade doesn't look at me like that."
"Yeah, well…" He lifted the arm closest to Everlee. For an instant, she thought he might hug her. But he just reached over his shoulder and scrubbed that big hand up his neck, as if his muscles were tense. Hers sure were.
Flash. The erotic image of her straddling Shane's bare butt while she massaged that stiff neck—and anything else that might be stiff—ignited a blazing grease-fire in her sex-starved brain pan. Everlee's mouth went dry at her nearly virginal body's fiery reaction to the heft and bulk and nearness of this man. She knew, just knew, he'd never hit her. But mixed with that stab of panic was the very real notion that he could've hugged her. He still could.
For a second, her heart drummed a lickety-split two-beat dance of anticipation, and wet, slick heat melted her core. Not good. Well, good, yeah, a hug from this man would be, oh, so good, but no, no, no. Shane was off-limits.
Rule number two for any smart single woman: No office romances. They were hard on a woman's ego. Just as hard on office morale when you still had to work with the jerk who dumped you or who you dumped. Just. No.
Everlee jerked her eyes off Shane and shook the wayward but totally erotic image of the man she barely knew out of her head. Had to be all the sugar she'd indulged in tonight. Not once had she pictured Alex sans clothes and she'd been crushing on him forever.
Mental note to self: Lay off the calories, girl. No one likes a fat ass, so no more chocolate mousse, and no more stupid crushes. You were an officer, act like one.
Thank heavens, Molly whined and jumped onto Shane's lap. Then Dolly kind of crawled, mostly begged up his leg for a hug. "You ready to go home?"
When Everlee didn't answer, he nudged her with his elbow. "Hey. I was talking to you."
"Umm, sorry, what?"
"I asked if you're ready to get out of here." His voice had turned deep and demanding. "My dogs have had enough and tomorrow comes early."
Everlee doubted those were the real reasons he wanted to leave, but she let it slide. Slapping her palms to her knees, she jumped to her feet and replied, "Anytime you're ready, big guy."
They said their goodbyes, and an hour later—because, hello, this was a big crowd and there were a lot of goodbyes to be said—Everlee walked to the curb where Shane had parked his king-cab pickup. Black, of course. While he opened the backseat door for his girls to jump in, praised them, and snapped their harnesses onto the two short leashes fastened there, she grabbed hold of the suicide handles inside the front seat passenger door. Planting her big, black boot carefully on the running board—because hey, she was a fall hazard—she hefted her butt up and into the front seat, shut her own door, and fastened her own seat belt. She was independent and proud of it. Why wait around for some guy when she could do everything herself. Smart thinking, huh?
Dog safety was important, and Shane took extra good care of his girls. He should. Dogs were like children. You took care of them, or you had no business getting a ‘cute widdle puppy' in the first place.
But once, just once in her life, Everlee wished he'd opened the door for her like a gentleman did for the woman he cared about. What would it feel like to be the center of someone's whole world? To be cared for as much as Shane cared for his girls?
Honestly? She had no idea.
And apparently, Shane was no gentleman.