Back inside the house, however, her
luck ran out the minute she turned to go up the stairs and bumped into Daniels.
“Good morning, beautiful.” A huge smile
graced his face. It made him look even more handsome than he usually did, and
he knew it.
“Good morning, Mr. Daniels. My
apologies. I didn’t hear you coming down the stairs.”
“Oh, I don’t mind one bit. A lovely
lady like yourself crashing into me first thing in the morning isn’t something
that needs an apology.” As he spoke, he leaned his body closer to her. She
stepped back, trying to maintain an appropriate distance between them, but it
didn’t work. Every inch she moved, he countered by the same inch, sometimes
more.
“Mr. Daniels—”
“Gage,” he insisted, nearly pinning her
against the wall with his body. He was too close. The scent of the soap he’d
used wafted up to her nose. It smelled good. He smelled good.
She needed to get away from him. “Mr.
Daniels, if you do not step back and let me pass this instant, I will
physically move you.” This only caused him to smile wider, if that were
possible, and there was a gleam in his eye she didn’t like.
Instead of stepping back, he leaned in,
holding his upper body so close she could feel the heat radiating from him. His
breath caused tiny goose bumps to cover the left side of her face and neck. She
closed her eyes, bracing herself.
Then . . . it was
gone . . . his breath, the heat, everything.
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