Deadly Chemistry (Entangled Ignite) by Teri Anne Stanley

had little spots of green. And he’d cut himself shaving that morning, because there was a tiny nick on his jaw, halfway between his chin and his ear. And his lips were just the right—something—for his face.
    His head had somehow gotten closer to hers. And her body had somehow gotten closer to his. Just before their lips met, she could have sworn she heard him sigh, but that might have been her.
    It was a soft, quiet kiss, that much more startling for its gentleness from this big, rough man. No big clacking together of positive and negative poles—a simple brush of lips, but more than that. Something that had been building between them for two days now, ever since she’d tripped over him on her way out of the building.
    He started to pull back, so Lauren leaned forward, following him. She pressed her lips to his, more firmly this time, and touched his lower lip with her tongue. He tasted like coffee and peppermint. Her hands moved up his arms to his shoulders, solid under her touch.
    He lifted his head from hers then, staring down at her, his expression as shocked as hers must be.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t—”
    “Why—”
    “This isn’t—”
    He wasn’t interested in her that way . How embarrassing. “Oh. God, I’m sorry,” Lauren said, pushing off of him. She must have caught him off guard, because he stumbled back a step, bumping into the big metal shelving unit behind him.
    The top shelf collapsed with a deafening crash, and several large glass and plastic containers of chemicals fell to the ground and shattered, spilling their contents in waves of color and texture. Another tipped over on the top shelf, raining a blinding cloud of powder, coating them both from head to toe.
    Lauren started to wipe at her face before she realized that she had no idea what she was about to grind into her skin. Panic set in, injecting epinephrine into her bloodstream in a searing rush. It could be something as benign as table salt—or any number of lethal chemicals that normally lived safely on those shelves. She kept her mouth closed and made a “Mmmph!” sound at Mike. She took his hand and pulled him toward the hall.
    They needed to get this washed off before it maybe killed them.
    …
    A soon as Mike saw the powder on Lauren’s face, he realized he was in trouble. He needed to jump into action, but he had no idea what he was trying to save her from. Instead, he had to follow her into the hall. She looked a little freaked out, but in control. Her lips were tightly shut, so he kept his mouth closed, too.
    She led him to the nearest chemical shower and pulled the chain. After a brief hesitation, the pipe squealed, and water dripped from the oversized showerhead, slowly increasing to a steady flow. Lauren nudged him forward, but when he realized her intent, he grabbed her, yanked her under the water with him, and made sure her face was rinsed off first.
    After a few seconds, Lauren stuck out her tongue and tasted the water that poured over her face. She smiled and raised her hands to push her wet hair out of her face.
    “Sodium phosphate,” she told him. “Totally safe.”
    They took turns rinsing. When she nodded, Mike pulled the “off” lever. Most of the water made it into the drain under the shower, but there was a decent-size puddle extending around their feet.
    As Lauren stepped away from the mess, her foot slid. Mike caught her and pulled her against him before she hit the ground. He held her slender upper arms in his hands, felt soft wet skin under his rough touch.
    He knew he should let go, but he couldn’t seem to release her. He’d made one mistake by kissing her, and he was probably about to make another.
    Lauren leaned back, looking up at Mike. Her golden brown eyes wide. “Oh my God. For a minute there, I had visions of melting like the Wicked Witch of the West.” She started to laugh, the sound maybe a little hysterical, and buried her face in his shoulder. She clutched his