Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I sighed, pushing away those dark thoughts. I had found the strength to keep going, and I built a nice life for Hannah and me. With her moving to Lomand, I missed her a lot. We were very close. I was looking forward to seeing her. Having her catch me up on the news.
The image of a tall, sexy man came to mind, and I wondered if she would have any information on him.
Dom Salvatore.
I shook my head to clear it.
He was a force of nature. Cocky. Sure of himself. Outspoken and direct.
And so incredibly out of bounds.
I was struck by his masculine beauty the moment he walked into the kitchen. His tattooed biceps bulged, carrying three cases of pop and beer. His T-shirt hugged his torso, his long legs encased in jeans. He was muscular and fit. Tall and broad across his shoulders. Lean at the waist.
He sported scruff on his face, the dark shadow highlighting his ruggedness. His brown hair was short, and his dark eyes smoldered. I couldn’t stop looking at him.
And he stared back. All day. Every time I looked, he was locked on me. And when he spoke, his voice made the hairs on my neck stand up. I felt something I hadn’t experienced in years. Pure, unadulterated desire.
And he scared me.
I sighed, wrapping my hand around my mug. He’d been on my mind all week. His low laughter. His sultry looks in my direction. The way he teased me. Found excuses to be close. To touch me. I thought of the seriousness on his face when he answered my question about painting. He was all swagger and teasing, but below the surface, I had begun to have the feeling there was more than met the eye. He simply didn’t show it to many people.
I swore I still felt the press of his mouth on my forehead. That sweet, intimate gesture stayed with me more than any caress a man had bestowed on me in years.
Not that there had been many. After my husband died, I had been too busy trying to stay in one piece and raise Hannah to have time to date. I’d had a low period a couple of years after I lost Mike when I’d allowed myself to try. It had ended in disaster, and I swore never again. Losing Mike had almost ended me, and what had happened when I’d trusted the wrong man had taken me a long time to recover from. I concentrated on Hannah, making her the focal point.
As she’d grown up and needed less of my time, I’d found I wasn’t really interested in having a man come around and try to change my life. I liked being independent. Not having to ask for permission to do anything. There were times I was lonely and longed for a man’s touch, another person to share my life with, but I quickly got over those moments, remembering what had happened when I’d tried. I dated a few times, although single mothers were not really sought-after. Most of the men I went for a first date with never called for a second. The few who did seemed to resent the fact that Hannah would take priority, so being alone was the way life went.
But now, Hannah was grown with a life of her own.
And I was lonely at times.
A fact I had a feeling Dom Salvatore would be happy to rectify.
However briefly.
The question was, would I be happy with a fast, passionate affair? A man like him, a reformed bad boy, was probably only interested in a short-term thing.
Was I?
Another thought struck me. What if he wasn’t what I thought he was? What if his interest was real and genuine? What if the man was exactly what he claimed to be?
Was I prepared for that?
I groaned. Neither scenario helped. I was still confused and nervous.
And I hated that.
Hannah arrived as I finished my coffee, the caffeine giving me the needed pep. I hadn’t been sleeping as well lately, the image of dark, smoldering eyes and strong hands waking me often.
Not that I would tell my daughter that.
We went to our favorite pho place and chatted. She showed me pictures of how she was putting together the rooms we’d helped to paint.
“Looks great, jellybean,” I said. I was surprised how much Chase was allowing her to do, but I sensed he wanted her to feel at home with him—on every level. I had to admit, I liked him a great deal, and I hoped Hannah did as well.
I paused at a picture. “What is this?”
“Oh.” Hannah wiped her mouth. “Chase bought a new bed. He never thought to buy sheets, so I’m going to pick him up a set.”
“He’s a nice boy.”
She smirked. “He is hardly a boy, Mom. He is a couple years older than me.”