Shadow Woman: A Novel by Linda Howard

could.
    She knew that. She agreed with her gut instinct. But she couldn’t get her feet to move.
    She shivered, her body still battling with the overwhelming, conflicting signals her brain was sending. Maybe she was going to faint, she thought, alarmed by the possibility but unable to look away from him.
    He was a head taller than she, broad-shouldered, tough and lean in boots, jeans, and a denim shirt unbuttoned over a black tee shirt. More than his size, though, was the aura of coiled power about him, even though he was just standing there. His stance, the way he was perfectly balanced so he could go in any direction without hesitation, the powerfully muscled legs so plainly revealed by his tight jeans, all spoke to a man in top physical condition.
    The bone structure of his face was lean and angular, with chiseled high cheekbones and a thin, high-bridged nose that made her think he must have some Native American in his heritage, though it could be Middle Eastern. But it was his eyes that marked him for what he was. He was dark-haired, olive-skinned, and his heavy-lidded eyes such a dark shade of brown that the irises almost blended with the blackness of his pupils. His gaze was direct, coldly intense, and as it focused on her she felt as if she’d suddenly been put in the crosshairs—
    She felt a sharp, warning stab of pain, and that finally broke the spell she’d been under. Swiftly she looked away, concentrating on the label of a shampoo bottle, because she’d look like an idiot if she started humming mindlessly. The pain ebbed and she said, “That’s okay,” not looking at him again because something about his eyes made her feel as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff, about to fall into the unknown.
    His big hand appeared in her field of vision as he reached for a bottle of shampoo. “This stuff makes me feel like an idiot,” he muttered, startling her into glancing at him.
    “Shampoo?” She knit her brows together in a slight frown. “What’s hard about shampoo? Wet, lather, rinse. Don’t tell me you failed Shampoo 101.” The words popped out, and it felt as if someone else was saying them. She knew better; don’t engage with strangers—especially strangers who looked as if they could snap her neck with one hand—don’t be provocative, don’t … She knew there were more “don’ts,” more directives she shouldbe following, but they were fraying, falling apart even as she tried to bring them to mind. She wasn’t a smart-ass; she tried to be polite to everyone, tried not to be intrusive, yet here she was busting this guy’s chops and the weird thing was … it felt almost natural.
    “Passed with flying colors; I was the teacher’s pet,” he returned, his mouth quirking up on one side in a lopsided half-smile that showed he wasn’t at all offended. “But look at this.” He turned the bottle so she could see it. “ ‘Volumizing and clarifying.’ What is it, and do I need it? Will it make my hair stand straight out, and I’ll understand the universe better?”
    She looked up at his dark hair, thick, straight, and slightly unruly, as if he’d combed it by dragging his fingers through it. “I don’t think you need any volumizing.” Pointing down the aisle, she said, “Besides, this is a woman’s shampoo. You need that manly man stuff down there.”
    He looked where she was pointing. “What’s the difference?”
    “Packaging.”
    His gaze returned to her and his lips quirked again. “So I’ll still understand the universe better?”
    Her heart started beating a little harder, a little faster. “No, but you’ll feel more manly while you’re not understanding it.”
    The expression in his eyes changed, lit, and he laughed, kind of, a rough little chuckle as if he didn’t make the sound very often and didn’t know how to let it go. Her heart gave a funny little bump, followed by another skin-prickling chill as she abruptly realized she’d let her guard down. She had