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  “Hey,” he said as they hit the street and the bar door closed behind him. “Um, Mac? Maybe we should find, you know, a … dealer? I’m not carrying any um … So unless you have, you know …” He cleared his throat.

  She stopped walking and looked up at him. Standing there on the sidewalk, he was aware of how much bigger and taller he was. She was tiny—and significantly younger than he’d thought. More like twenty-two, instead of the pushing thirty that he’d figured her to be, back in the bar.

  Or maybe it was just the glow from the dim streetlight, making her look like youthful beauty and desire personified.

  “Why do men have a problem saying the pill?” she asked.

  Shane laughed. “It’s not the words,” he told her. “It’s the concept. See, what if I’d misunderstood and—”

  “You didn’t. And FYI, this is Massachusetts. It’s still legal here. No need to back-alley it.”

  “Well, good. But … we still need … some.”

  She smiled, and Jesus, she was beautiful. “Don’t worry, I got it handled.” Her gaze became a once over that was nearly palpable, lingering for a moment on the unmistakable bulge beneath the button-fly of his jeans. She looked back into his eyes. “Or I will, soon enough.”

  No doubt about it, his luck had changed.

  “Please promise that you’re not luring me back to your apartment with the intention of locking me in chains and keeping me as your love slave,” he said. “Or—wait. Maybe what I really want is for you to promise that you are.”

  She laughed at that. “You’re not my type for long-term imprisonment,” she told him. But then she stood on her toes, tugging at the front of his jacket so that he leaned down. She was going to kiss him and they both knew it, but she took her time and he let her, just waiting as she looked into his eyes, as she brought her mouth up and softly brushed her lips against his.

  Shane closed his eyes—God, it was sweet—as he let himself be kissed again, and then again. And this time, she tasted him, her tongue against his lips. He opened his mouth, and then, Christ, it wasn’t sweet, it was pure hunger, white-hot and overwhelming, and he pulled her hard into his arms, even as she clung to him, trying to get even closer.

  The world could’ve exploded around him and he wouldn’t have cared. He wouldn’t have looked up—wouldn’t have stopped kissing her.

  And through all the layers of clothing, their jackets, their pants, his shorts, and whatever she had on beneath her cargo BDUs—God, he couldn’t wait to find out what she wore for underwear—Shane felt her stomach, warm and taut against his erection, and just that distant contact was enough to bring him teetering dangerously close to the edge.

  And by the time he made sense of that information and formed a vaguely coherent thought—holy shit, just kissing this woman was enough to make him crazy—it was almost too late.

  Almost. But only because she pulled away from him. She was laughing, her incredible eyes dancing as she looked up at him, as if she knew exactly what he was feeling, what he’d nearly done.

  She held out her gloved hand for him, so he took it, and then—bad ankle be damned—she pulled him forward.

  And together, they started to run.

  OTHER TITLES BY SUZANNE BROCKMANN

  THE TROUBLESHOOTERS SERIES

  The Unsung Hero

  The Defiant Hero

  Over the Edge

  Out of Control

  Into the Night

  Gone Too Far

  Flashpoint

  Hot Target

  Breaking Point

  Into the Storm

  Force of Nature

  All Through the Night

  Into the Fire

  Dark of Night

  Hot Pursuit

  Breaking the Rules

  CLASSIC ROMANCES

  Heartthrob

  Bodyguard

  Forbidden

  Time Enough for Love

  Stand-in Groom

  Otherwise Engaged

  The Kissing Game

  Kiss and Tell

  Body Language

  Freedom’s Price

  Ladies’ Man

  Infamous