First Impressions

creases, lots of bone. And shoulders.”
    “You always did go for shoulders.”
    Donna only grinned. “He’s a little lean for my taste, but the face makes up for it. He keeps to himself, hardly says a word.”
    “It’s hard being a stranger.” She spoke from her own experience. “And being out of work too. What do you think—”
    Her question was cut off by the jingle of bells. Glancing over, Shane forgot what she had been about to ask.
    He was tall, as Donna had said. In the few seconds they stared at each other, Shane absorbed every aspect of his physical appearance. Lean, yes, but his shoulders were broad, and the arms exposed by the rolled-up shirtsleeves were corded with muscle. His face was tanned, and it narrowed down to a trim, clipped jaw. Thick and straight, his black hair fell carelessly over a high forehead.
    His mouth was beautiful. It was full and sharply sculpted, but she knew instinctively it could be cruel. And his eyes, a clear deep blue, were cool. She was certain they could turn to ice. She wouldn’t have called it a lived-in face, but a remote one. There was an air of arrogant distance about him. Aloofness seemed to vie with an inner charge of energy.
    The spontaneous physical pull was unexpected. In the past, Shane had been attracted to easygoing, good-natured men. This man was neither, she knew, but what she felt was undeniable. For a flash, all that was inside her leaned toward him in a knowledge that was as basic as chemistry and as insubstantial as dreams. Five seconds, it could have been no longer. It didn’t need to be.
    Shane smiled. He gave her the briefest of acknowledging nods, then walked to the back of the store.
    “So, how soon do you think you’ll have the place ready to open?” Donna asked Shane brightly with one eye trained toward the rear of the store.
    “What?” Shane’s mind was still on the man.
    “Your place,” Donna said meaningfully.
    “Oh, three months, I suppose.” She glanced blankly around the store as if she had just come in. “There’s a lot of work to do.”
    He came back with a quart of milk and set it on the counter, then reached for his wallet. Donna rang it up, shooting Shane a look from under her lashes before she gave him his change. He left the store without having spoken a word.
    “That,” Donna announced grandly, “was Vance Banning.”
    “Yes.” Shane exhaled. “So I gathered.”
    “You see what I mean. Great to look at, but not exactly the friendly sort.”
    “No.” Shane walked toward the door. “I’ll see you later, Donna.”
    “Shane!” With a half laugh, Donna called after her. “You forgot your coffee.”
    “Hmm? Oh, no thanks,” she murmured absently. “I’ll have a cup later.”
    When the door swung shut, Donna stared at it, then at the can of coffee in her hand. “Now what got into her?” she wondered aloud.
    As she walked home, Shane felt confused. Though emotional by nature, she could, when necessary, be very analytical. At the moment, she was dealing with the shock of what had happened to her in a few fleeting seconds. It had been much more than a feminine response to an attractive man.
    She had felt, inexplicably, as though her whole life had been a waiting period for that quick, silent meeting. Recognition. The word came to her out of nowhere. She had recognized him, not from Donna’s description, but from some deep inner knowledge of her own needs.
This was the man.
    Ridiculous, she told herself. Idiotic. She didn’t know him, hadn’t even heard him speak. No sensible person felt so strongly about a total stranger. More likely, her response had stemmed from the fact that she and Donna had been speaking of him as he had walked in.
    Turning off the main road, she began to climb the steep lane that led to her house. He certainly hadn’t been friendly, she thought. He hadn’t answered her smile or made the slightest attempt at common courtesy. Something in the cool blue eyes had demanded distance. Shane didn’t think he was the kind of man she usually liked. Then again, her reaction had been far removed from the calm emotion of liking.
    As always when she saw the house, Shane felt a rush of pleasure. This was hers. The woods, thick and touched with the first breath of autumn; the narrow struggling creek; the rocks that worked their way through the ground everywhere—they were all hers.
    Shane stood on the wooden bridge over the creek and looked at the house. It did need work. Some of the boards