He didn’t look like he wanted to hurt us.
As I took him in, the air was once again ripped from my lungs, but for an entirely different reason. I drew in a breath and wasn’t sure if my reaction was the adrenaline high I was still on or if it was because he was utterly, unquestionably perfect from head to toe. Handsome face. Strong jaw. Sensuous lips. Beautiful eyes. Broad shoulders. Flat stomach. Narrow hips. And long legs.
He stared at me just as the other man had, and concern began to stir in my belly. I picked up Clementine and remained where I was for a moment, trying to decide whether I should leave or stay.
I couldn’t read him at all.
His voice was soft yet husky when he finally spoke. “I didn’t mean to startle you. The sign said to come in.”
Despite my inability to read him, I felt secure enough to walk down the stairs. “It’s fine. I just didn’t hear the door.”
His smirk threw me for a loop. “You were busy . . . singing.”
Exhaling, I ignored the slow flush I felt spreading all over me. “I guess I was.”
The handsome man’s eyes swept over me as he said, “You carry quite a tune.”
Warmth radiated all the way to the tips of my toes. That voice did something to my insides. Something that made my stomach dip. Not knowing what else to do, I laughed.
I sounded ridiculous.
And I needed to focus.
To snap out of it.
His chuckle in response was soft. I found myself staring at him again.
“Down, down,” Clementine demanded, forcing me to pull my gaze away.
“In a moment, silly girl,” I reassured her, and then once I handed her the cup I’d taken out of my bag earlier, I glanced back at the handsome stranger. “Are you looking for Michael?”
The heat in his eyes was undeniable.
“Actually, my father.”
There was a strange feeling coursing through my body from head to foot. It had my head spinning. Finally, his words registered and I refocused.
Was he looking for the madman?
“Sean?” I asked in a surprisingly calm tone.
His slight nod told me I was right. My eyes studied him, as if my body somehow wasn’t in sync with my mind. I couldn’t help myself. He had a small jagged scar just under the inside corner of his left eye, but it didn’t detract from his incredibly good looks. As I stared, I could see the similarity between him and the older man. Same square jaw, chiseled nose, same face shape.
But his hair wasn’t peppered with gray. Instead it was the color of the most delicious chocolate. Brushed forward on his forehead, feathered toward his cheeks, and shaped perfectly around his ears, in such a way that he looked professional yet hip at the same time. But more than his hair, it was his eyes I noticed. They were the most vibrant hazel eyes I’d ever seen.
And they were still looking back at me. “So he is here?” he asked.
With a nod, I gestured toward Michael’s office. “He seemed . . . upset.”
Long lashes fluttered as his eyelids shut and then quickly reopened. “I hope he didn’t do anything stupid.”
“I hope you understand, there are no second chances.” Sean said sharply.
The door had creaked open, and a heated conversation floated toward us.
“I do,” was Michael’s short but tense response.
The handsome stranger strode toward his father, his face now a picture of restrained anger. Sean spotted his son and narrowed his eyes. “I told you to wait in the car.”
His son squared his broad shoulders. “And I told you to wait for me to park.”
Clementine, still on my hip, was oblivious to the bitter exchange as she reached forward toward the handsome stranger. He was closer now, and the playful grin he gave her made my stomach flutter.
His eyes went from her to me, and I could feel the weight of his stare. I shivered under its intensity.
The moment was broken when Sean huffed and shot Michael one last glance. “I’ll deliver your message and be in touch.” He then rushed by me, glaring at his son. “Let’s go,” he ordered.
His son nodded toward Michael, and then he cut his gaze back to me. He was staring again.
I found myself staring back.
And I studied him further. His brows were slightly darker than his hair color. His skin was smooth. There were faint, very faint, freckles on his nose that perfectly matched mine. And his slight beard was scruffy in a way that looked like he shaved daily, just not close, or maybe it was a five o’clock shadow.
Looking at him made my body feel like it was made of Jell-O.
“Good night,” he said. And then just like that, he turned and walked away.
My heart stilled. “Good night,” I whispered.