Janelle Denison

Janelle Denison

The impact of colliding into such a solid wall of masculinity knocked the breath out of Grace Holbrook, and dazed her to the extent that she saw a few stars. It was as if he’d appeared out of nowhere, though she was sure he’d just come out of the bank where she’d been heading. That’s what she got for ogling the new brochures she’d just picked up from the printer’s for her flower shop, instead of watching where she was going.

“Are you all right?”

His voice was deep, rich, and incredibly sexy, coaxing her back to the present with that direct pull on her feminine senses. Still feeling dazed, she blinked and slowly glanced up, summoning an apology for her clumsiness.

The words caught somewhere between her vocal chords and lips. He was a tall man, towering over her own five-foot-five frame with shoulders wide enough for a woman of her petite stature to completely lose herself in.

He was staring at her. At least she assumed he was watching her through the dark sunglasses he wore. She couldn’t see his eyes, and resented that they concealed what appeared to be, by lack of original description, a drop-dead gorgeous face. What she could determine of his features was chiseled with strong lines and angles, except for his nose, which looked like it might have been broken at one time. The slightly crooked slope, and those sensual, well-shaped lips of his, and thick, rich sable hair cut into a short, executive style, only served to accentuate his good looks.

Her admiration took in a hunter green and beige patterned silk shirt, and tan pleated trousers that fitted to lean hips and thighs. Expensive Italian loafers completed his urban image.

He wasn’t from around the small town of Whitaker Falls, Virginia, of that she was certain. For one, they didn’t grow such sophistication, and second, word would have spread that a gorgeous new hunk had taken up residence nearby.

“Are you still with me?” He tilted his head and smiled, producing a fascinating dimple at the corner of his mouth that flirted, charmed, and made Grace’s breath hitch in her throat.

I know that dimple, that devastatingly seductive smile, she thought, then shook off the notion as absurd and a trick of her imagination. Her internal chastisement did little for the awareness fluttering in her belly.

“Since it seems I’ve knocked the breath out of you, maybe I ought to administer mouth-to-mouth?” he suggested, amusement evident in his voice. “I’d be happy to oblige . . . ”