Page 2 of Ready For His Rule

Leaders.

Alphas.

Rulers.

Annnnd that did it. She was now a member of the gawk-a-thon too. And that was a surprise…why? With the turn her life had taken in the last year, there’d barely been time for a little self-induced fun in the sheets, let alone activities like—gasp—a date. And if she could even find the time for that? What then? One couldn’t trade small talk about the job over dessert and coffee when most of that information was classified. One couldn’t invite a guy up for a nightcap when Secret Service was opening the car door, and the street address was One Observatory Circle.

Even if that wasn’t the case, she had to consider Luke.

Like she did in every decision she made. In every breath she took.

Well. Speak of the handsome devil now.

No. Not a devil. Despite the glints in his eyes and the cant of his grin, her son would always be her perfect gift from heaven. A little extreme? Of course. A thought process she’d have to revise one day? Definitely. But not today and not now, even if staring at Luke meant she had to keep looking at the suited hunks, now engaging him in caveman-worthy fist locks and shoulder bumps. The lump in her throat swelled bigger as she watched his attempts at reciprocation, all gangly limbs and fifteen-year-old bravado, clearly worshipping the warriors who joked around with him—

Until he locked gazes with the new arrival to the gang.

The one who made the others, even with their linebacker shoulders and towering thighs, look like his wimpy kid brothers.

The one who still had Gem’s and Ronnie’s tongues dragging on the floor.

The one who turned her kid into a speechless slab.

Especially the next moment, when he turned and gripped Luke in a thoroughly masculine handshake. With their hands locked, the man’s fingers stretched halfway to Luke’s elbow.

“Holy shit.” Gem rasped at the sight.

“Holy something,” Ronnie seconded.

“Sssshh,” Tracy admonished. “He’s talking.”

And she didn’t want to miss a second of it.

Because his voice was the most alluring thing about him.

Dear. God. That. Voice.

Deep as his dark, watchful eyes. Formidable as the shoulders straining at every stitch of his jacket. Warm as his caramel-colored skin but cool as his control. It was the kind of voice she could imagine in the front lines of battle—but also at the pulse points in her neck. And other places on her body…

Holy. Cow.

Well…holy something. Cows weren’t exactly at the mental forefront at the moment. Stallions, maybe. Or mambas. Maybe even werewolves.

No, no, and no.

Pumas.

Dark ones.

Ding, ding, ding. When the metaphor fits…

She really did need to make a date with the electric boyfriend soon.

“It’s Luke, right?” the hulk was saying. “Good to meet you, man. I’m John. How’s it jammin’?” The query came with a nod at the phone into which Luke’s ear buds were plugged, drawing her attention to the extreme skull cut of the guy’s ink-black hair—another element of utter hotness. “Yeah,” he murmured, stepping closer to study Luke’s playlist. “That’s some beatin’ stuff.”

Okay, forget about playing coy. Tracy escalated her gawk to an open ogle. John the hulk had to be part wizard or druid or sorcerer—whatever the hell Luke’s video-game-of-the-month was calling them—to entrance her son into revealing the hallowed contents of his playlist.

Not a druid.

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