Drawing Deep by Jennifer Dellerman Read Free Book Online

masculine shoulders.
    The palms of her hands began to tingle. She wanted to run them through those thick strands, along those wide shoulders and down over the sleek muscles that encased a potent male form.
    Bet he had a six-pack. She plucked at the neckline of her shirt, feeling overly heated in the most unsuitable places, and swallowed the buildup of saliva in her mouth.
    There was no denying what she could see of the outside package was weakening her knees, but outside packages fade. It’s what the inside contains that mattered most. Her own paternal side of the family boasted of good-looking men, who were filled with nothing but cold arrogance and nasty pus.
    Knowing this, Ria still couldn’t seem to stop mentally mauling the eye-candy in front of her, feeling things low in her body start to tighten, yet melt at the same time.
    And this from just looking at his backside. What would happen when he turned around?
    The thought made her shiver.
    Santos nodded when the sharp thumping noise began to even out into a low bumping sound, and he opened his mouth to berate the hapless quad once again.
    “Bastard. It’s your turn now you...” Pivoting on his booted heels, he stopped in mid-sentence as he came face-to-face with Ria, who was silently watching him from a mere ten feet away. She might have greeted him, if she hadn’t suddenly come down with a case of muteness at the sight of those deep brown eyes that ensnared her, reeling her in like a fish on a hook. She could feel the muscles in her legs begin to quiver with the need to move closer.
    A lovely flush of color darkened his cheeks. “Uh, sorry.”
    His words broke her stupefaction and she gave him a tight smile. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Or said myself for that matter.” Uncomfortable under his steady gaze, she shifted her weight and nodded at the machine with the engine cover lifted. “Problem I take it?”
    Santos finally took his eyes from her to frown at the quad, frustration once again lacing his words. “Nothing that a sledgehammer won’t fix.”
    While Ria had felt the same sentiment with her laptop on a few occasions, Santos didn’t sound like he was joking. “That’s a bit severe.”
    “Not on the quad. On Porter.”
    Ria took a step back. Santos didn’t need any weapon to cause physical harm. He was a weapon. He was also angry, and she didn’t want to get caught up in a shifter’s anger.
    Santos raised a brow at her cautious move, his head cocking slightly as he perused her nervous stance. “Relax. I’m only kidding. Mostly.”
    The verbal reassurance did nothing to ease her jangling nerves. Her eyes flitted to the heavy wrench he held in his hands, her brain immediately reverting back to childhood stories about shifters and their brutal and unforgiving temperaments.
    Following her gaze to the tool gripped in his hand, Santos pursed his lips. Then he slowly headed to a long worktable that lined the far side wall, putting the entire room between them. “The engine’s still warm so I knew that’s the quad Porter used when he mucked out the stalls this morning.” His tone was low and meant to be soothing, his movements deliberately careful as he replaced the tool and tidied up the bench. “One of our rules is to report a problem immediately so it can either be resolved without delay, or at the very least, known about so it can be tackled when time permits.”
    It was telling, the cautious way Santos handled her reaction. It was also a little mortifying as she’d skilled herself in controlling any outward signs of fear or anxiety. Not to mention he probably thought Ria either timid as a mouse or the victim of assault or abuse. The fact that he was right didn’t make her feel better. He hadn’t threatened her.
    Her great-grandfather had threatened her often, and followed up on those threats. Though her father was subservient to Kalin, it was Ria who took the brunt of Kalin’s dictatorship and displeasure. Whether it be a