surrounded by a light layer of dark gray, near black stubble. Then there were his eyes, a deep mesmerizing blue. Atop his head was a mop of curly hair.
Oh, my God, that hair. People would kill for that kind of thick, natural curl.
She had a flash of sinking her fingers through those coils and yanking his head from one of her breasts to the other. He’d open his mouth wide and suck—
He cleared his throat.
The tips of her ears burned. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. Yes. Please set them over here.” She stepped to the side. Too bad she couldn’t become invisible. Then she could hide from the man who’d turned her stupid, and he wouldn’t have to see the humiliation turn her face into a tomato.
Also, she could keep staring and drooling over the sexiest man she’d seen in years, if ever, without his knowledge.
Geez. She ran a hand over her hair, wincing as she discovered much of it had fallen free of the messy bun she’d shoved it in earlier. Here she was talking to a man who was hot enough to melt iron, and she was a hot, sweaty mess.
Oh, my God. What the hell was wrong with her this morning? In the five years since her divorce, she’d never looked at a man with more than a stray thought of, huh, not bad. Her libido picked a helluva time to wake up and join the party.
The man’s perfect lips quirked as he strode toward her, still carrying those bags as though they were full of feathers. “Here?” he asked when he was so close, she had to step back to avoid bumping him.
“Yeah, that’s perfect.”
Don’t smell him. Don’t smell him.
She inhaled as he bent down to release one of the bags.
Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head as his clean, fresh, outdoorsy mixed with a bit of leather scent hit her.
“Are you Brooke?” he asked in a rough voice after setting the sacks down next to the food bin.
She’d have slapped herself to get with the program if it wouldn’t have made her look even stupider. Clearing her throat, she nodded. “I am yes. Did we have an appointment?” Trying to remember what she’d written in her planner would be pointless, seeing how her brain had left the building.
“Nah, we didn’t. Sorry to show up unannounced. I stopped by the pet store in town yesterday, and someone mentioned you were the person to see about getting a dog.”
Ray trotted over then plopped his fuzzy rump right down at the stranger’s feet. The traitor. So much for being a fearsome guard dog.
The man crouched down, stroking his large hand over her dog’s head. “Well, aren’t you a handsome boy,” he crooned to Ray, and Brooke nearly melted in a puddle as that raspy voice seduced her dog. Ray’s tongue lolled out, and he rolled to his back, presenting his belly like the attention whore he was.
In Ray’s defense, there probably wasn’t a creature out there, male or female immune to this man.
“I’ve got a few fosters right now who are ready to adopt and lots of connections with shelters in the area if I don’t have what you’re looking for.”
He glanced up at her from his low squat next to Ray. “Pretty sure you have everything I’m looking for.”
If she didn’t know, better, she’d have sworn he meant her and not a dog.
But that would be insane. She was a forty-one-year-old divorced woman who hadn’t been touched by anything other than silicone and her own fingers in over five years. She needed a push-up bra to keep her full Cs anywhere near where they used to live, and her ass had always been a bit plumper than she’d liked. It’d been at least a good seven months since she’d worn a touch of make-up, and her idea of fancy was jeans that didn’t have holes in them and a premium cotton T-shirt.
Men didn’t flirt with her. And not just because she didn’t put herself in many situations where single men would have the opportunity to pick her up.
This guy probably had to beat off perky twenty-somethings with daddy issues everywhere he went. He could have his choice of women without putting in an ounce of effort—no way in hell she’d do it for him.
“Uh, so what kind of dog are you interested in?”
Rising to his full height of…maybe six-two, he shrugged. “Not sure. Just kind of hoping I’ll know it when I meet ’em. Just know I’m