Scared of Spiders

Chaos met her. A noisy cacophony of forklifts, music blaring, and men talking. Really big men who suddenly, as if controlled by one mind, stopped what they were doing and turned to look at her.

Caught by so many eyes at once, she felt like a bug under a microscope, and it took all of her will not to turn and flee. Her eyes, in a millisecond, scanned the various rugged faces turned toward her. She found herself visually captivated by one man in particular—a giant of a man whose chest strained his shirt and whose tousled dark hair begged for a hand to brush it. Within seconds of noticing this manly piece of eye candy, she found her gaze snagged by another equally big man with a carefree grin and wavy blond hair.

Logic dictated they should scare her. They were, after all, huge and eyeing her like some yummy treat that had landed in their lap, but she warmed instead under their frank appraisal. So this is what the books mean when they talk about instant attraction.

She took a step forward, meaning to introduce herself and ask for directions to the office, when her gaze was caught by a movement in the upper corner of the vestibule. From a dusty web, layered thickly where the ceiling met the wall, dangled a spider—a huge spider—that, as if sensing her regard, spun to face her. Josie took a step back, terror riveting her in the face of the large arachnid with the hairy legs. When it began dropping down . . . It’s coming for me! . . . all reason fled her, and she whirled to escape. Good-looking men or not, job or not, irrationality won, and she quickly exited the building to escape the eight-legged monster.

As she quick walked her way up the sidewalk, she pondered something odd: for despite her phobia, and mouth-drying fear, she had an urge to go back and somehow brave the critter waiting for her. Damn it, I should have pulled out my Raid. So that she could find out the names of the two men who’d woken her libido. Totally out of character, and it just went to show her just how attractive she’d found them. For a moment, she allowed herself a quick fantasy of dating one of those hunks, of being his woman. Her body shivered, pleased at the thought.

Of course, first I’d have to decide which one is hotter.

* * * *

He smelled her the moment she walked in—a tantalizing mix of peaches ’n’ cream and woman that made his beast pace in his mind and whisper Ours. Clint looked up to see the face of the one he’d waited for—my mate—and sucked in a breath for she wasn’t what he’d expected at all.

For one, she was tiny. He doubted she’d even reach his chin, yet while short in stature, she had the curves, pillowy and sweet, of a woman. Their eyes met and even across the space separating them, he noticed her interest, the way her lips softened and parted. An innocent look that made him rock-hard. Oh, baby, I can’t wait to see your face when it’s looking up at me, glazed with passion.

She broke the glance, and Clint realized something else before her gaze turned fearful and she whirled to escape. He wasn’t the only man who’d noticed her.

But forget that dilemma for the moment. She’d left, and if he didn’t hurry, he’d have to resort to sniffing out her trail like some trained canine. Clint strode across the warehouse, snarling when a few of his pack brothers moved to follow. They backed off, unwilling to challenge their alpha. Clint reached the rapidly shutting door with Brandon, best friend and pack beta, on his heels. “She’s mine,” he growled at his lieutenant, who ignored his order.

“Not if I get to her first,” replied Brandon, hip-checking him aside to dive through the door.

If we weren’t best friends . . . Clint gritted his teeth and followed, emerging into bright sunlight. The woman he intended to bed—and, yes, wed—had already scurried half a block away. Whereas Brandon jogged to catch up to her, Clint simply stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled.

The strident sound startled her, and she whirled to gape back at him with big, doe-like eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to be my two p.m. interview, would you?” he said on a hunch, his question loud enough for her to hear as he strolled toward her. He tried to look harmless. What a joke, she was probably right to run. I am the big, bad wolf the stories warned you about. She stood her ground, however, even as her fearful bearing screamed weak, but that was okay because he had strength enough for both of them.

Brandon, with his long stride and closer position, reached her first, and Clint bit back a grin as she cringed from him and clutched her purse tightly to her chest.

“I’m Brandon Schuster,” said his business partner, sticking his hand out. She hesitated, biting her lower lip before placing her trembling hand in Brandon’s.

The shock of their skin-to-skin contact was all too visible, and Clint held back an urge to rip her away from his beta. His beast snarled in his mind, willing to forgo friendship so it might take a bite out of the one who dared touch their woman. Ignoring the bloodthirsty requests of his beast, Clint instead smiled widely at the petite woman, perhaps a tad toothily judging by the wide eyes that rose to meet his. “Hi, there. I’m Clint Jefferson, majority owner of J&S Inc.” He added that last bit on purpose and enjoyed the way Brandon’s mouth tightened. Clint stuck his hand out, and, with the same lip-biting trepidation, she placed her hand in his. An electric current shot through him, and his beast grunted in recognition. Ours. Expected, and yet odd, because there was no doubting the same thing had happened with Brandon, who now frowned at him.

His tiny woman snatched her hand back and took a step away from them, her gaze darting between them, but he was glad to notice her initial trepidation seemed to have faded. And if he wasn’t mistaken, he could smell distinct interest, from her lower parts anyway.