Hot to Touch. Kimberly Kaye Terry

When he turned back around, one of the jumpers had come to stand beside her.

      His eyes narrowed when he saw her withdraw a pad from the oversize bag she wore, busy scribbling notes. She placed the notebook back inside and then withdrew an expensive-looking camera, brought the lens to her eye and snapped off a shot of the jumper she was speaking to before aiming her lens toward the men gathered around her.

      When a few of the guys turned toward her, and actually smiled for the camera, Shane knew he had to turn away or he was liable to go over and snatch it from her hand to further prevent his men from embarrassing themselves with their shameless display of eagerness.

      “Each group has their general assignments for the day. Before heading out, check the board for further assignments. Any more announcements?” he asked, turning to the squad leaders. When none answered, he continued. “Roll call!” and proceeded to fire off the list of names to answering variations of “Yo,” “Yep,” and “Huah!” until everyone had been accounted for.

      When several stopped on the way out the door to stand and talk to Emma, he barked, “I’ll meet with C team in the cargo area in ten. Ms. Rawlings, I need to speak with you.”

      When the last man left, Emma had no choice but to face him, watching him approach warily while reminding herself that anything he could dish out, she could take.

      When he stood less than two feet away from her he crossed his arms over his big chest. The stance, like the scowl on his face whenever he was around her, was becoming irritatingly familiar.

      “Looks like you’ve met all the men.”

      The way he said it made it seem as though she had stripped down and given each man a lap dance instead of the simple interview she’d conducted. She gave him a tight-lipped smile, refusing to let him see how badly he was getting to her.

      “When the men are being briefed, I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t distract them,” he continued and stepped closer.

      Emma took an involuntary step away. Her glance slid over his sensual mouth, one side hitched lightly in a mimicry of a smile as he stood there, looming over her.

      She stood still. Like a doe caught in headlights, she felt hemmed in. The air around them grew thick, moist—dewy with an underlying tension she couldn’t break away from. She refused to back up even when he stepped so close she could smell the heated, musky scent of his aftershave mixed with his natural male essence.

      She blew out a breath, slowly, her lips partially opening, her tongue snaking out to lick the lower rim. When his gaze followed the action of her tongue, Emma’s heartbeat began to thump frantically against her chest, her palms grew moist, her body hot.

      Emma raised her chin, resisting the urgent desire to flee. “They seem like big boys. They can handle it, I’m sure.”

      He raised a hand and brought one finger down the line of her jaw. She stared up at him, controlling the crazy desire to turn into his caress.

      “Didn’t your mama ever tell you that playing with fire is a sure fire way to get burned, Ms. Rawlings?”

      With their gazes locked, his bright-eyed gaze roamed over her face, over her mouth and down her throat before meeting hers. Emma felt as though it were his hands running over her, her body responding against her understanding or will.

      The ends of his nostrils flared, his mouth following the path of her tongue as it again wet her lips.

      “I’m working with the men this morning. I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else to entertain you, Ms. Rawlings.”

      When he walked away, she expelled the breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding.

      God, what in the world had just happened, she wondered, her body slumping back against the wall.

      Unconsciously running her fingers over the part of her face he’d touched, she watched him stride from the room.