“I’m face to face with Nash. His dark-chocolate eyes are full of concern and he smells lightly of expensive cologne, something musky. Dark. Sexy.”

“She stands facing me to take off the helmet. When she does, she shakes her dark hair free. It looks like something a girl in a shampoo commercial might do. I have no doubt she doesn’t have a clue how sexy she is. But she is. Holy hell, is she ever!”

“Up close, I see that his eyes are brown. Dark, dark brown. Nearly black.Sinful.”

“I stop dead in my tracks when I see Nash leaning against the wall right outside the ladies’ room. His legs are crossed casually at the ankle, as his arms are crossed casually over his chest. His smile is faint. And sad.Finally, he straightens and steps toward me. He doesn’t stop until he is mere inches from me, forcing me to tilt my face up just to maintain eye contact.He brushes his thumb over the ridge of my cheekbone at the corner of my eye. I wonder briefly if I missed a streak of mascara.“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, closing his eyes as if in pain. His face is etched with regret and it tugs at my heart.“Don’t be. You can’t control other people. I just hope I haven’t embarrassed you too badly, or ruined any important business connections you were hoping to make.”“I don’t care about business connections. Not at this cost.”

“She grins at me. It’s a cute, sexy little grin that makes me want to kiss her. -Nash”

“Cash smiles at them and then turns to face me, leaning forward a little on the bar. His eyes meet mine and one brow rises in that holy mother of hell-sexy way, then he mutters, “You’ve got one chance to make my mouth water.”I suck in a breath. And chills break out down my arms.Damn, he’s good!”

“Are you cold?” he asks, turning toward me to run the backs of his fingers up and down my upper arm, as if testing the temperature of my skin. “Here,” he says, taking off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders. The jacket is warm and heavy and smells just like Nash, like whatever cologne or soap he uses. I figure it must be called delicious, maybe by Armani or some other fancy designer. It almost makes my mouth water. “Is that better?” He wraps his arm around me, too, as if to ensure I won’t be cold. Of course, I won’t complain. Even if I was sweating, I wouldn’t complain.“That’s much better, thank you.”