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ALEXANDRA

T heoretically, Alex knew she should be most concerned about the giant grizzly bear that had just transformed into Orson.

Realistically, she couldn’t get much beyond the fact that Orson was standing next to the truck without a shirt.

The man was breathtaking .

She’d guessed at his physique beneath his buttoned-up shirts and slacks, but guessing was a whole lot different than seeing all that rippling muscle and beautiful flesh with her own eyes. He had curls on his chest she was frankly dying to run her fingers through and shoulders she could imagine clawing.

She couldn’t see all of him, over the nose of the truck, and he wasn’t nearly as tall as a human as he was as a towering bear. But she could see enough of his torso to get a good idea of the rest of him.

And he definitely saw her, seeing him, clutching the curtain like a lifeline.

He gave a little start and might have made a yelp of surprise that Alex couldn’t hear through the window.

He had just transformed from a bear, and her head was having a lot of trouble wrapping itself around that concept, particularly since she was so distracted by the picture burned in her brain of those shoulders and that burly chest.

Alex let the curtain fall and gave him enough time to put a shirt on, then marched out into the bright Alaska night to confront him. She didn’t see any point in pretending it hadn’t happened, and she couldn’t imagine how awkward it would be trying not to talk about it as they drove north. She wasn’t the kind of person to avoid something because it might be unpleasant, no matter how Sandra tried to convince her to let things go and go with the flow or ignore the elephant in the room.

Orson was clambering around the truck when Alex came out, and she was irrationally disappointed to find him fully dressed. He could have left the shirt off now that she’d seen that much.

On the other hand, it made it much easier to speak in actual words when she wasn’t distracted by all that skin she wanted to lick.

She reminded herself that Orson was the asshole who’d come here to replace her, and then remembered he’d just been a literal bear.

“I was coming out to see if you wanted to trade off with the bed,” she squeaked.

(The big, comfortable bed that was big enough for both of them.)

“I could do the last half of the night in the truck,” Alex said before her baser nature could convince her to throw herself at him and rip his shirt off again. “That would be fair.”

Orson looked confused and dragged a hand through his hair. “You…saw?”

Saw him standing there all sexy and half-naked? Yeah, she saw that.

“You were a bear,” Alex said flatly.

“You don’t seem awfully surprised.”

Did he sound disappointed and a little pouty? It was pretty cute.

The truth was, Alex knew she was probably still shocked. It was unbelievable and she was tired and high-strung for a whole host of reasons—including shirtless Orson—and to be fair… “That is not the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. I won’t say I don’t have some burning questions, but Native lore has a lot of shapeshifting stories and honestly I might like you better as a bear.”

“Hey!” Orson’s outrage was as honest as the grin that split his face.

It was far more devastating than his attempts to be surly and distant. This was the real and enthusiastic Orson she’d caught glimpses of during their drive up, and she liked Real Orson a dangerous amount. “Do you want the bed or not?”

Orson glanced at the door to the cabin and then fixed her with a hot look of hunger.

Alex had guessed that he felt a certain animal attraction to her, even before she realized how literally animal that might be. But he’d done a good job of frowning, grunting, and pretending her tight jeans did nothing for him. Now, he seemed to have decided he was done with the act altogether. “I’d like to share the bed with you,” he said boldly. Then he added a rakish, “Please?”

Zing.

Alex considered herself a logical and practical woman, capable of thinking with her brain and not her body. She could make tough choices and didn’t get weepy or wring her hands when things were hard. Autonomy was critical to her, and she would never let her libido lead her into trouble.

But Orson, with his golden-brown eyes, boyish bearded smile, and those shoulders that were still imprinted on her eyelids, was going to be her utter downfall.