Fiona and the Fixer

“Gonna share?”
The voice, deep and rumbly, came from my left. It startled me, making me jump, the coffee sloshing in the carafe I still held.
I whipped my head around and there was a man. Right there.
How had he snuck up on me since I could now hear a dog fart a block away? I worked in law enforcement where being aware of my surroundings was ingrained.
So was doing a perp assessment.
Male–obviously. Gorgeous. Early thirties. Six-two. Wearing a suit with the tie loosened and the top button undone. Built like a runner… no, a rich, cocky lacrosse player, except his knuckles and hands were rough as if they’d seen a few too many fights. His eyes, blue and piercing, were blisteringly focused squarely and completely on me. My ovaries exploded, a confetti parade invitation for him to get me pregnant.
Jesus, he was that potent, like I was standing on a live electrical wire.
He seemed to be doing the same onceover in return. His gaze cataloging everything about me, although hopefully not that my nipples were instantly hard or my panties had caught fire.
Did his visual interrogation make him law enforcement, too?
Hell, no. He radiated danger. If he was on the wrong side of the law, he was doing really well for himself. The suit was custom and too expensive for a law enforcement salary. So was his haircut. Short on the sides, longer on top, but had a fade that was probably done in a place that gave those shaves with the hot towels. Except he never got one of those because he had very appealing scruff.
He wasn’t from around here. The only suit men in the mountains wore was a snow suit.
“Sorry,” I said, swallowing hard. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was sorry for. Keeping the coffee hostage or ogling him. Because just looking at him made me want to drool. Okay, maybe I was actually drooling. I may have had a bit of a dry spell when it came to men, but this guy would turn any conscious woman’s panties to a raging inferno. It was definitely the eyes. Why the hell did men get the naturally long lashes? Or strong cheekbones? Since when was I drawn to a square jaw? Right, always. Or full lips. Lips that would kiss along my inner thigh and I’d feel the rasp of that few-days-old beard. A body that–
“Give me the money in the cash register.”
Interrupting my sexy times thoughts about the potent and intense guy in front of me, I heard the anxious voice from across the store. The man spoke quietly, as if he didn’t want anyone else in the place to know what was up. Still, I heard it clearly. Of course, I did. Shit.
“Nice and quiet now or I’ll have to shoot everyone in here,” the guy added, meaning he had a gun.
I sighed.
Fuck. Why me? Why now? Why did I have the shittiest luck?
An armed robbery?
Really? I had to stop it, of course. I couldn’t stand back here and keep drooling over the hot guy when someone was breaking the law.
The hot guy waved his hand back and forth in front of my face. “You okay there?”
I ignored him.
I also didn’t turn around. I knew the layout of the store. Main entrance directly behind me. Three rows of snacks and food between where I stood and the doors. Bathrooms to the right at the back. Cash counter twenty feet to my left. Glancing up, I looked into the mirror high on the wall that gave Pops a view of people in the far aisles. Like me and Mr. Suit.
It also meant I could see the counter in return. Pick up a slightly distorted view of a guy in a baggy t-shirt and jeans holding a gun on Pops.
Fortunately, the soda debate was still happening in the corner. They had no idea what was going on. Neither did Mr. Suit next to me.
“Um, can I have some, too?” he asked, referring to the coffee carafe I still held. The fact that he liked coffee only made him even more perfect. Too bad duty called.
I flicked my gaze from the mirror overhead to him. Shit, he was tall. Tall enough to be seen and shot. It would be a shame if anything happened to a man as handsome and sexy as him.
“Stay here and…” I set my free hand on his shoulder and pushed. “Get down.”