Her Perfect Stranger by Jill Shalvis Read Free Book Online Page A

first was after his initial mission meeting. She happened to have the bad luck—which seemed to be following her around!—to be walking down the hallway as he came out of the conference room. His shirtsleeves were shoved up; his hair was ruffled as if he'd run his fingers through it often. But his gaze went right to hers, and it was hot. There were people everywhere, leaving her with no opportunity to do anything other than ask him about the meeting. He responded in kind, revealing nothing, for which she was grateful. But as she walked away, quaking inside with so many unnamed emotions, she felt his gaze on her, and continued to feel it long after he was out of sight. The second time she ran into him was in the middle of the night. The entire team was being housed on-site; each team member had a private bedroom, but they shared three community bathrooms. Unfortunately for Corrine, she always seemed to need a pit stop around midnight, and this night was no exception. She left the bathroom and walked down the darkened hallway, plowing into a solid chest. "Corrine." There was no other voice in the world that could make her knees wobble. No other voice that could evoke so many thoughts and emotions that she quivered in response. "We have to talk," he said. "Not here." Panic such as she'd never known welled up in her, because with this man she felt weak. Vulnerable. Not allowed. She couldn't talk to him about their "problem," not yet, not until she had a better grip on her emotions and could fully control herself. He would never again see her without that control. Memories flashed through her mind. She'd totaly lost it with him, let him do anything and everything. She'd been spread-eagled and open on the hotel bed, with him kneeling over her, using his fingers, his tongue, his entire body to make her cry out and beg. That he'd cried out and begged, too, didn't matter. His control wasn't at question here, hers was. "Talking won't help," she said. "It's done." "It doesn't have to be." What was he implying? That he wanted her again? How was that possible, now that he knew who she was? Didn't matter. She didn't want it to happen again. She wanted to move on, as if she'd never allowed her weakness, her loneliness, her momentary lapse of sanity to occur. "It's over, Mike." Saying his name helped. Her perfect stranger had a name and an identity to go along with that long, hard, warm body she'd worshipped all night long. "Just like that?" he asked. "Fast as it started?" "Yes." "Harsh, don't you think?" "That's life." She forced herself to remain coolwhen she had the most insane urge to ask for a hug. "Goodbye, Mike." "You can't say goodbye to me. I'm on your team." "I'm not saying goodbye to you as my teammate." He shook his head and looked at her in a way that made her want to weep. "And I'm not sayinggoodbye to you as my lover—" She set her finger on his lips, barely able to speak. "Don't say it," she begged. "Don't say anything." He took her hand from his mouth and gently, so gently it brought up the tears she'd been fighting down, kissed her knuckles. "I won't," he said. "Only because I don't have to. We're not finished yet. And I think you know it." Then he was gone. 5 AFTER THEIR middle of the night run-in, Mike slept poorly, haunted by visions of his new commander and her cool, cool eyes and even cooler voice. Damn it, where had al that iciness come from? And why had she refused to acknowledge him and their night together, if only between them? Try as he might to make sense of it, he couldn't. He understood the obvious. She was ashamed of what they'd shared. But why did that hurt? As for how he felt, he was having a hard time reconciling the woman he'd held all night in his arms—the woman who'd showed him such passion and hunger—with the cool cucumber he'd been introduced to today. Giving up on sleep, he got out of bed before dawn, still feeling insulted and angry, whether that was rational or not.