Just Once Read Online Free PDF

eyes rake me up and down. I suddenly remember I’m not wearing a bra. And I’m pretty sure I’m gleaming with sweat.
    “You look all right to me.”
    “Fine. I’ll fix the fan myself. Where do I get another one?”
    “I’ll bring it up. Put some clothes on.”
    He’s gone before I can reply, but as soon as his heavy footsteps fade down the hall, I dig through my bags for a bra and a top that provides a little more coverage. I don’t have a huge chest, but it’s enough to make a statement in the tiny shirt I have on. Goddammit. I spent the past hours making a good impression on everybody else, and when I finally meet the guy I’ve been searching for all day, I slam a sweaty armpit in his face and fight with him. Oh no. Speaking of which…I duck my head and covertly sniff under my arm, even as I wonder why I’d care if he thinks I smell. He works in a barn, for crying out loud. And he deserved it , I remind myself. He didn’t even apologize!
    A few minutes later I hear work boots thump up the steps and Shane pushes open the door—again, no knocking—with a new fan under his arm.
    “Thanks,” I say, reaching for it. “I’ll take it from here.”
    He ignores me. “I’ll do it. It’s the last one we’ve got. I can’t have you breaking anything else.”
    “Nothing would be broken if you’d knocked!”
    “I thought you were at the bar. I knocked when I brought the fan up, but didn’t get an answer. When I came back with the ladder I assumed you were still out.” Behind him I can see a ladder propped against the wall in the hall.
    “With the light on?”
    “I’m not a detective, Kate. Now move so I can get this hung up.”
    He uses his foot to clear space on the floor, then crouches down to assemble the new fan. I stand awkwardly for a second, then gather up the broken pieces of the first fan and toss them into the garbage. That takes all of one minute, however, so then I just watch him, and he eventually shoots me a look.
    “What?” he asks.
    I shrug. “What am I supposed to do? Do you want some help?”
    He tries not to scoff. “No.”
    “I’ll go brush my teeth.”
    “Good idea.”
    I grab my toiletries bag and squeeze past him out the door. When I’m in the bathroom, I shut—and lock—the door, then lean against it. My hairline is damp with sweat, my heart is beating fast, and my mouth is dry. I tell myself again that it’s a combination of heat and alcohol, but something within me has come alive for the first time in a long time, and I don’t know how I feel about it. Actually, I know exactly how I feel about it: appalled. Men like Shane are not my type: huge, hulking jerks who don’t apologize when they’re wrong. I like the Kevin Drews of the world—polished, finessed, accomplished men who know how to order wine and fly first class.
    I splash cold water on my face, then hastily brush my teeth and will myself to calm down. I’m tired and jetlagged. It’s normal to feel out of sorts. I’m not myself. Older, wiser Kate knows this.
    I march back to my room and screech to an abrupt halt. Shane’s standing on the stepladder, arms extended overhead, biceps bulging as he fixes the fan in place. His stance on the ladder puts his prominent package directly at eye level.
    Oh God. My face burns, and I squeeze past before he sees me looking. I drop the toiletries bag on the dresser and stand in front of the window to cool off. Again. “When is this heat wave supposed to end?” I ask.
    “Couple more days.”
    I groan inwardly. “Great.”
    Finally he steps down from the ladder and surveys his work. “Give it a shot,” he orders.
    I flip the switch next to the door, and the fan begins to turn, a blissful, slow spin that sounds like heaven. I sigh and reach up to tug the string that speeds it up. The fan turns faster. I pull it again and it reaches max speed, sending cool air churning throughout the room.
    “Thank God,” I sigh. I look at Shane in time to see his eyes lift from my