Unexpected Lovers Box Set by J.B. Heller

Holy crap on a cracker.They’re heading this way. Oh my God, they’re heading this way.

Amy kicks my shin under the table. “What are you doing? Close your damn mouth and be cool!” she hisses.

But I can’t. I can’t be cool. In fact, I’m the complete opposite of cool right now. I’m boiling hot, and my heart is pounding out of my stupidly tight chest. Maybe I’m having a stroke?

Oh goodness. I mentally run through my BE FAST checklist. Balance? Nope, it left the building. Eyes? They are obviously not working correctly, because those guys are getting closer, and it looks like they’re smiling. Face? I can’t shut my gaping mouth, so yep, face isn’t working. Arms? Ah, no. My fingers have locked so tight around my water glass I’m afraid it will shatter. Speech? Umm, no. I don’t even want to attempt to speak. Time? It’s definitely time to call 911. I’m having a stroke, no doubt about it.

“Good evening, ladies,” a deep voice yanks me from my panic attack.

I swallow and lift my eyes to meet those of the taller man, the one who just spoke. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out, so I snap it closed again.

“You’ll have to forgive Hannah; she’s had a long day,” Amy says with a flutter of her lashes in the direction of the too-hot-for-this-world men. “How can we help you, gentleman?”

The slightly shorter guy extends a hand to Amy. “It would seem I assumed incorrectly that being the owner of this establishment would guarantee me a table whenever I so desired. We noticed you ladies have two free places at your table and hoped you’d allow us to join you.”

Amy kicks me in the shin again—much harder this time. It’s going to bruise, damn it. But it does the trick, and somehow, I finally gather my wits enough to speak. “Umm, sure, Mr. English.” I hold out a shaking hand. “I’m Hannah. I work with the animals. And this is my friend Amy.”

A Cheshire-cat grin spreads across the taller guy’s perfect face, and I don’t know if I should be aroused or afraid. Truth be told, I’m a little of both. Then, he takes the seat beside me while my new boss takes the one beside Amy. She practically vibrates in her seat while I’m left doing an imitation of a stunned mullet.

“Are you sure you don’t mind us joining you?” that deep voice croons from my side.

I side-eye him, too chicken to look him fully in the face lest I start drooling. “Sure, why?”

His big body turns in his seat as he rests his elbow on the edge of the table and places his chin in his palm. He stares at the side of my head; it’s extremely unnerving. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you look tense. Am I making you uncomfortable?”

I swallow. Imagine he’s naked; it’ll make it easier to talk to him. I close my eyes, swing my face in his direction, and open them.

Nope, the naked thing is not working. My gaze flits over his features, taking in his deep-blue eyes; his straight nose; those perfect, full, pillowy lips; the sharp, defined angle of his jaw; and the shadow of stubble covering it. . . I’m a goner. This dude’s face alone is enough to make me spontaneously combust.

“I’m Sam,” he says softly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hannah.”

My tongue snakes out to wet my dry lips. “Hi, Sam,” I murmur. He must think I’m all kinds of special right now, because that’s all I can say. Nothing else comes to mind. Not a damn word. Any other day and you can’t shut me up, but now, when words would come in super handy, I’ve got nothing.

Sam’s lips twitch in what I assume is amusement. At least, I hope that’s what it is. It could be a signal to his cousin to get him the hell away from the weird, mute chick he’s been stuck with.

When I remain silent, he speaks again. “You said you work here, with the fish?”

I nod.

His free arm curls around the back of my chair as he makes himself more comfortable, and I tense further. He either doesn’t notice or pretends not to, continuing with his line of questions. “What exactly do you do with the fish?”

My body relaxes slightly. The water is my safe space, where I’m most comfortable. I swallow the nerves squeezing my throat closed and force myself to speak. “I’m an aquarist,” I say, feeling the passion for my work smothering the last of my anxiety. Taking a steadying breath, I smile. “Which basically means I’m a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to the aquarium. I oversee the monitoring of the water quality to maintain the well-being of all the species we have on display. But the sharks are my main area of expertise.”

He blinks once, very slowly. I frown, and he loosens the top two buttons of his dress shirt.

“You okay?” I ask.

Sam clears his throat. “Are you about to tell me they’re not man-eating beasts intent on eating me?”

My frown morphs into a full-blown scowl. “They most certainly are not man-eating beasts. That’s a common misconception furthered by ridiculous, unrealistic, unsubstantiated propaganda promoted by fake news and movies.” Nothing sets me off like people insulting my sweet babies.

He pops a brow. “The many people who have been eaten by them would beg to differ.”

I jab a finger into his firm, muscled—oh, dear God, so muscled—chest. “Listen here, mister. You are more likely to be killed by a damn cow than a shark. Now, that’s a fact you can take to the bank.” I totally read that on one of my tampon packages, but it’s legit.

“A cow? Really?”

“Yes, a cow. You want to point a finger at a vicious beast, there’s your culprit,” I tell him, crossing my arms. “My sweet girls wouldn’t eat you if I sliced you open and threw you in their tank.”

Those deep-blue eyes of his widen, then he chuckles. “Remind me never to go swimming with you.”

Then, I realize the ridiculousness of what I just said. Because honestly, they probably would at least have a nibble if I did that. “I might get a little”—I hold my fingers up half an inch apart between us—“defensive of my babies.”

“Noted,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes fixed on mine. And the smile gracing his gorgeous face knocks the breath right out of my lungs.

This woman isa breath of fresh air. I’ve never in my thirty years met anyone like her. I can’t stop smiling, and it’s a genuine smile too. It feels amazing.

The weight that had settled on my shoulders after my run-in with Camille vanished the moment I laid eyes on the petite, pink-haired bombshell sitting next to me. And now that I’ve finally gotten her talking, I can’t shake the feeling that she’s going to turn my life upside down. And I’m totally on board with that.

When those guys were talking about a woman who, essentially, initiates splitsville with shitty sex after three months, I was determined to find her. But I’m having trouble reconciling the woman in front of me with the one they were talking about. I just can’t see it.

“You look like you’re thinking really hard right now. I promise I’m not going to try feeding you to my sharks,” she says, a coy smile playing on her lips.

I want to kiss it right off her face, but I’m getting ahead of myself. I need to convince her to go out with me first. A few tendrils of hair brush against the back of the hand I have curled around her chair, and I turn my palm, catching a few in the tips of my fingers. Soft as silk and slightly damp.

“Were you working with your babies tonight?” I ask.

Hannah nods. “I got off my shift an hour ago.”

“Do you swim with them? The sharks?”

She smiles so big her pearly white teeth peek out. “I do.”

My skin prickles at the idea of getting in that tank, surrounded by . . . I swallow. My eyes flick to the aquarium to the left of us and spot a different shark than the one that swam over my head earlier. This one is much larger. “How many sharks are in there?” I gesture to the ceiling with my chin.

“Four.” She says this like it’s not a big fucking deal.

“You willingly swim in a tank with not one, but four sharks.” I scan her small frame then return my gaze to her face. The amusement shining in her eyes gives me pause. “What?”

“You’re scared of sharks, aren’t you.”

She doesn’t pose it as a question, but a statement. I may as well have thrown my man card on the table and just let her have it, because she obviously has bigger balls than I do. “I prefer to think of it as having a strong sense of self-preservation.”

Her laugh is light and melodic, and it hits me right in the gut.

“Right, whatever you say,” she says, continuing to chuckle softly.

Being laughed at is not something I’m accustomed to. But surprisingly, I don’t even care as long as I get to hear that sound.

A waiter appears to take our orders, and I’m stunned by the amount of food Hannah requests. The look on my face must betray my surprise.

“What, you thought I’d order a salad? Do I look like I eat salad?” she asks, waving her hand over her tiny body.

“Umm, yes?” I hedge, unsure what else to say. She really is tiny, especially compared to me. I don’t know where all the food she asked for is going to go.

She shakes her head and laughs again. “I’m a fully-fledged meat-eater, just like my girls. You don’t get an ass like this from eating salad.”

My gaze instantly shoots down her body, but my view’s impeded by the table. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen it.”

“You’ll have to take my word for it, then.” She smirks.

I’m irrationally disgruntled by the possibility of not feasting my eyes on that ass of hers. “I’d prefer to make that judgment for myself.”

“I’m sure you would. But I’ve been on my feet all day. You will just have to wait to watch me walk away at the end of the night.” Then she winks.

When I first sat by her, I’d thought maybe she was being weird because she’d realized who I was and how much I’m worth. It wouldn’t have been the first time a woman has freaked out at the prospect of my wealth. But then, when she relaxed and started talking about her job and joking with me, I realized it had nothing to do with money. She was simply nervous.

She treats me like I’m a normal, average guy. It’s a novel feeling. Does she know who I am and doesn’t care, or is she completely clueless as to who she threatened to knife in a shark tank? I’m tempted to ask, but I don’t want to ruin this if it turns out she’s none the wiser. So, I keep my thoughts to myself, instead, continuing with our flirtatious banter.

Leaning closer to her, I whisper in her ear, “What if I don’t want you to walk away, Hannah?”