He placed the mouth of the bottle at his parted lips, tilted his head back and seemed to relish the cold bite of the liquid.The strong column of his throat worked lazily before he lowered the bottle, allowing his gaze to sweep the room. As though he hadn’t been watching every movement possible in the small bar before and while he’d taken that drink.Shaggy blond hair fell to his broad shoulders while the formfitting black of the uniform he wore shifted over his muscles with each move.Mission uniform, that was what they called it, she thought in fascination. The black material wasn’t skintight, it was simply formfitting, and it set him apart as exactly what he was—a lethal weapon. A creature no man nor beast should be stupid enough to confront.“I double-dare you,” her sister whispered at her ear.Chelsea simply had no idea what she was doing.“Not going to work, Chel.” Liza, her best friend, laughed from across the table. “She doesn’t have the guts to go for it. I told you, Holden drained the courage right out of her.”The mention of Holden Mayhew had a dark, sickening feeling slicing through her and sent an icy chill down her spine.
