Page 22 of Remington’s Mate

He slid over until he could check the mirror and there she was, just inside the door, looking casually around.

He barely recognized her. Gone was the conservative, buttoned-up, every-hair-in-place executive assistant.

She’d changed into a short skirt, sheer black stockings and strappy heels. Underneath her open jacket, her soft, drapey blue top clung to some of her generous curves and skimmed over others, making him suddenly want to see what she had on under it—and immediately take whatever it was off.

It had been a long time since the sight of a woman hit him like a punch in the stomach.

It’s only because you imagined you saw her in the spirit world, he told himself. Hedidn’t need to make this any more complicated than it already was. Move along. Nothin’ to see here. Just one too many trips on the magical mystery tour.

The bartender spoke to Jaeda and she headed towards his table, her walk easy and confident. She’d redone her hair so it was pulled up on one side and cascaded in soft dark curls over the opposite shoulder, and her makeup made her eyes look deep and sexy.

He rose out of the circular banquette as she approached. “Thanks for coming,” he said. “Slide all the way to the back of the banquette, if you don’t mind.”

She turned to let him take off her jacket, and then artfully tossed her hair back and smiled at him. His heart gave a painful thud, which he ignored. She was just playing her part.

“Good choice,” she said, indicating the booth. She lowered her voice and looked up at him under her lashes. “Very private.”

Even though he’d seen her expertly checking out the sight lines and security cameras under cover of the jacket-and-hair-toss thing, the warm, intimate tone in her voice sent another little fizz of adrenalin through him.

He was beginning to suspect he’d be lucky to get out of this mission alive. Or at least, unscarred.

Jaeda sat down and wriggled her way to the back of the banquette. It was awkward, but the booth was a smart choice for evading surveillance. Colt entered from the other side, so they ended up sitting next to each other like two people having an intimate, clandestine date.

Which they weren’t, she reminded herself. It just allowed them to talk without being overheard. Even this level of undercover expertise was more than she’d expected from one of the McCall twins, to be honest.

She’d always thought of them as pretty-faced troublemakers without a brain in their heads. She’d been shocked, when she looked them up in the Silverlake shifter database before changing into her come-fuck-me outfit, to learn that Colt really was a licensed structural engineer and general contractor.

Who would’ve thunk it?

He’d also had an eventful six months.

He and his brother Remy, along with Kitty Jameson and Brandon Fierro, had somehow managed to take out a rogue alliance of shifter panthers and crows right here in Kentucky.

Then they’d formed a new crew under Brandon. A couple months later, Colt had mated a lynx shifter named Callie Haugan.

That was a bigger shock than the engineering degree—the McCall twins had been cutting a swath through the female population since they were about fifteen. Nobody had ever thought they’d settle down before the age of thirty-five, at least.

She was also pissed that nobody at home was keeping her up on the gossip like they were supposed to, or she would have known all this. Michelangela and Ravenna—and her mom—were going to get seriously bitched out when she talked to them next.

Colt slid close enough to suck all the air out of her half of the booth. It was kind of too bad he was mated. He was smokin’ hot.

You don’t date shifters, she reminded herself.You are human. You went to a damn lot of trouble to be human, as a matter of fact.

And anyway, he was just doing it to stay out of camera range.

Unfortunately, he was delicious and sexy and he still smelled amazing. She was about to ask him what kind of body wash he used when the bartender brought over the whiskey sour she’d ordered on her way past.

Just as well. Probably asking about his bath products was a bad idea. She better get this meeting started, before His Hot-as-fuck Leopardness made her do something that embarrassed them both.

“So what are you investigating?” she asked, at the same time Colt said, “So what the hell did you mean by ‘hiding?’”

They both laughed awkwardly, and then Colt said, “Ladies first.”

Jaeda said, “First to get my question answered?”

“First to explain what the fuck you’re doing here,” he said. “Hiding from what? I hope it’s cool, like you robbed a bank or you’re on the run from international spies.”

Jaeda stirred her drink with the two tiny straws it came with and sighed. She hated explaining this to shifters. Either they didn’t get it, or they got that pitying look in their eyes that made her want to stab their eyeballs with a fork.