From the shapely mounds of her breasts, it was a hop and skip up the satiny skin of her throat to the profile of her face, from the elegant angle of her jaw to the deep purple lipstick on her lips. Geezus, he didn’t trust himself to stare at that mouth. For survival reasons, he moved on to the rest of her striking details—smooth, pale cheeks, a pert nose, and thickly lashed and darkly outlined eyes, almond-shaped, sultry.
Hoo-yah. She was gorgeous.
He felt it like a physical ache in his heart.
She shivered delicately. Had she sensed him ogling her, or was she truly cold?
From a very interesting zombie bag she produced the tiniest black lace wrap he’d ever seen. It fit over her arms and draped in ruffled folds beside each breast. It fit like a glove, and after it was on, she did one of those simply ultimate female things for which the common male simply had no protection—she slid one manicured hand up around the back of her neck and with the utmost unconscious grace, fluffed her hair, the black nail polish catching the overhead lights. The next move was also filled with so much fluid, female style. The head toss to settle her midnight dark hair in place, artlessly performed with mesmerizing skill.
And she did him in.
He waited to see what else she had in her bag of tricks—and so help him God, when she moved, it blindsided him—turning towards the door, she saw him. When she made eye contact, she smiled. It was a genuine smile, which made it all the more dazzling, especially for a woman who had just recently been attacked.
For a man of stealth, a Marine who’d had to live and breathe evasion and concealment, to be so caught off-guard was astonishing.
One long-legged, spike-heeled stride after another, she walked toward him, towing the two Jack Russells with her. She pushed the door open and tilted her head.
Unbelievably, he found himself steeling his heart against the sound of her voice. The sultry welcome of her stunning cobalt blue eyes was only eclipsed by that voice.