McIver's Mission. Brenda Harlen

smile was lazy, satisfied. “Sure.”

      Arden retreated to the kitchen, chastising her overactive hormones. All he’d done was touch her, and her skin had burned. She took several deep breaths before returning to the living room with the pot of coffee. She refilled his mug, conscious of his gaze following her even though she avoided looking at him. She wasn’t sure she understood what was going on here, what the undercurrents were about. She was probably experiencing some kind of emotional meltdown—a normal reaction after the kind of day she’d had.

      Somewhat reassured, she returned to her seat on the sofa.

      “What’s in all the boxes?” Shaun asked, gesturing to the stack against the dining room wall.

      “Books.”

      “What kind of books?”

      “Textbooks, case law.”

      “Why aren’t they unpacked?”

      “I don’t have any shelves.”

      He looked around, visually confirming her statement. “I could build some for you.”

      She frowned. “Why?”

      “I like to work with my hands,” he said.

      The innocent comment brought to mind erotic images of things she’d like him to do with those hands, and building shelves wasn’t in the top ten. “I’m sure you have better things to do with your time,” she said, sounding just a little breathless.

      “Not really. And it would give us a chance to get to know each other better.”

      “Why?” she asked again.

      “Why not? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

      “I guess so,” she agreed, not completely convinced.

      “I built the shelves in Nikki’s den,” he told her. “In case you have doubts about my abilities.”

      No, Arden had no such doubts. “Fine, you can build shelves for me if you want to.”

      “Great. I’ll come by tomorrow to take some measurements. Think about what kind of wood you’d like.”

      As if she would know the difference between maple and mahogany. She smiled. “All right.”

      “You have a beautiful smile, Doherty.”

      Arden tried to shift away from him, but her hip was already against the arm of the sofa. “Thank you.”

      “Why does that make you uncomfortable?” he asked.

      She didn’t bother to deny it. She’d always felt that too much importance was placed on appearance, and she knew she hadn’t done anything to earn her looks. The flawless skin, the silky hair, the dark, almond-shaped eyes were a result of genetic makeup. She looked like her mother, and she’d never been particularly proud of that fact. Every time she looked in the mirror she was reminded of the woman who’d given birth to her, and who had abandoned her. “Looks are superficial,” she said. “They shouldn’t matter.”

      He seemed to consider her statement, then nodded. “You also have a beautiful heart.”

      His words caused an unfamiliar warmth to expand inside her. Uncomfortable with the feeling, she set her mug on the coffee table. “It’s getting late, Shaun.”

      “You’re trying to get rid of me again.”

      “Yes.”

      “That’s not a promising start to a friendship,” he said.

      “I would think a friend would appreciate honesty,” she countered.

      He sipped from his cup. “I’m not finished with my coffee.”

      “Too bad. I have a busy day tomorrow and I need to go to bed.”

      “Now that brings to mind all kinds of interesting possibilities,” he said.

      A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “Go home, McIver.”

      “All right,” he agreed, and drained the last of his coffee.

      Arden followed Shaun to the door. She should have been relieved that he was leaving, but now that his departure was imminent, she wasn’t so eager to see him go. She’d enjoyed the verbal sparring, the chance to think about things other than the hellish day she’d had, and she didn’t want to be alone with the memories and regrets that plagued her.

      As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, Shaun paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

      “I’m fine.” Or she would be, anyway. If there was one thing she’d learned over the years, it was how to take care of herself.

      Still he hesitated. “You know you can call me if you need anything. Anytime.”

      It was a nice thought, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—take him up on it. “Go home, Shaun.”

      He smiled, and her traitorous pulse skipped a beat before she ordered it to behave. She wasn’t going to get all giddy and weak-kneed just because Shaun McIver smiled at her. But she couldn’t help the way her breath caught in her throat when her eyes met his, watched them darken.

      Something crackled in the air between them. Something powerful and unexpected and just a little scary, and if her brain hadn’t seemed to shut down, she might have stepped away. Instead, she stood rooted, mesmerized.

      He leaned toward her, and if Arden didn’t know better she might have thought he was going to kiss her. But she did know better, and she knew—

      Chapter 3

      Whatever it was Arden thought she knew slipped from her mind as Shaun’s lips touched hers.

      She watched his eyelids lower, felt her own flutter, then close. In darkness her other senses were heightened, the impact of the kiss magnified. The touch of his lips sent tingles down her spine; the musky, male scent of him clouded her brain; and she lost herself in his kiss.

      His lips were warm and firm as they moved over hers with a mastery that was either pure God-given talent or the result of much practice. A mastery that didn’t so much coax as demand a response. She responded, and demanded in turn.

      The sensations that stirred inside her were as unwelcome as they were unfamiliar. She’d been kissed by more than a few men in her thirty-one years, but she’d never been kissed like this. The heat building inside her was like an inferno: burning, raging, devouring. Desire wasn’t a new emotion, but the intensity of this desire baffled her even as her mouth moved against his. Had any of her brain cells been functioning, she might have pulled back. She might have recognized this as insanity and withdrawn from it. But that first touch of his lips on hers had abolished all rational thought, leaving only edgy, achy need.

      When his tongue slipped between her parted lips and stroked the ultrasensitive ridges on the roof of her mouth, she almost moaned. He tasted of salsa and coffee and man: spicy and potent and hot.

      She vaguely registered the pressure of his hand on her back, drawing her slowly but inexorably closer to the hard length of his body. She didn’t, couldn’t, resist. Her arms wound around his neck, her breasts crushed against the solidity of his chest. His heart beat against hers, as fast and heavy as her own.

      His hands slid lower, cupped her buttocks, positioned her more firmly against him. She could feel the evidence of his arousal, and the answering, aching heat between her thighs. She wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him. It was irrational, insane, but it was real. She wasn’t the type of woman to indulge in meaningless sex. She didn’t have casual affairs. She’d never been tempted.

      But she was now, and she was dangerously close to giving over to her impulses and dragging Shaun to the floor with her.

      It was Shaun who drew back, easing his lips from hers with obvious reluctance. His hands