easy to see but that could end up being hell to deal with.
Purely on a business level, of course. It wasn’t as if he was considering anything else. Anything personal. There wasn’t going to be anything personal between him and any woman for a long time. Not when he had so much damage control still to do with his family.
And even if he was ready for another relationship, even if all his fences with his family were mended, he’d be cautious of someone who came from Abby’s kind of background. Stable, steady, grounded—that’s what he’d be looking for when he started looking for someone again.
Someone who had been raised moving around from home to home? He didn’t see how that could breed stable or steady or grounded.
Maybe that wild hair of Abby Crane’s was the kind of clue that the clutter of Lara’s condo should have been.
And this time around he was reading it, noting it, and taking it very seriously.
Not that there was anything to what he was about to do with Abby Crane that was at all relationship-driven to make that matter.
There wasn’t.
His only job was to reveal to her who she was, where she’d come from, and then see how he could—in some way—make things up to her.
At the same time he was making things up to his family.
And, with any luck, maybe he could take care of everything at once and then really breathe a sigh of relief.
But no matter how long either chore took, it was all going to be far behind him before he even considered getting involved with another woman.
Fresh-faced spectacular beauty or not.
* * *
The park on Bryant Street was only a block from Abby’s apartment. She wanted to walk there but it was after six o’clock when she got home so she had to hurry in order to change clothes first.
Not that she really needed to change clothes—there was nothing wrong with what she’d been wearing all day. And she convinced herself that it wasn’t for the sake of Dylan Camden. She just felt like putting on something fresh.
So she replaced her work jeans with a better pair that were low-slung and fitted her rear end just the way she liked. On top she opted for a slimmer-cut black T-shirt that hugged her not overly well-endowed chest. She wore that over a white-and-black polka dot tank top that rose about two inches higher than the T-shirt’s square-cut neckline.
She drew a large hair pick through her curls and re-scrunched them, and refreshed her eye makeup, blush and lip gloss. Although she probably shouldn’t have used the time, she searched out and put on a pair of hoop earrings before rushing back to her closet for shoes.
Despite telling herself that she should wear sturdy shoes in case this guy was some kind of creep she might need to kick before making a run for it, she still went with a pair of ballet flats that wouldn’t be able to do any damage.
But they were comfortable and she’d been on her feet all day. Plus they had cute little white-and-black polka dot bows that coordinated with her tank top.
It was six-twenty-five by then, so she grabbed her keys, put them in the pocket of her jeans and headed for the park.
Dylan was already there—Abby spotted him when she reached the corner across the street from the park. He was sitting at one of the picnic tables. And looking as good as he had at the shop that afternoon.
She’d been hoping that maybe he wouldn’t. That the flattering lighting of the salon had just really worked for him. But that wasn’t the case. The guy was sooo hot!
But that wasn’t going to get to her. He was still a stranger and her guard was up on that account alone. But there were two other things that factored in, too—she’d just ended the only long-term relationship she’d ever been in, and what had come out of it had shaken her. That wasn’t anything she wanted to try again anytime soon.
And if she hadn’t been good enough for Mark The Systems Analyst, she certainly wouldn’t be able to live up to the standards of a Camden. Someone like that would surely believe he was legions out of her league.
So, Adonis or not, Dylan Camden wasn’t going to get to her.
He saw her coming just then and perked up as if he was happier to see her than she thought he should be. Or maybe he’d just thought she wouldn’t show and was glad she had. But she was still leery.
“Hi,” she said as she drew near the table.
“Hey there,” he responded.
He was sitting on the table itself, his big loafered feet on the bench below, long jeans-encased legs V’d out wide, leaning on forearms atop thick thighs—nicely developed forearms exposed below the rolled-up-to-his-elbows sleeves of a crisp, clean, pinstriped shirt.
He’d changed clothes, too. And he’d shaved so his face was clear of stubble, as if he wanted to be ready for kissing.
Dumb thought. Surely he hadn’t shaved so he’d be ready for kissing her.
“Shall we walk or sit here?” he asked when she joined him.
“Let’s just sit,” she said, preferring to stay near to the busy street and her apartment.
“Oh, right, you work on your feet all day—taking a walk is probably not high on the list of things you want to do,” he reasoned.
Sure, let him think that.
He stood then, and Abby was struck once more by how tall he was and what a great body he had—lean and toned, muscular, and wow, those shoulders and the way they tapered down to that narrow waist were impressive!
He motioned for her to sit on the now-free bench but she rounded the table and sat on the other side instead.
Something about that distance she put between them made him smile as he slung a long leg over the seat he’d just offered her and took it himself. And when he smiled small lines fanned out from the corners of his astonishingly blue eyes and drew the most appealing little parentheses around that supple mouth.
She tried not to notice, let alone appreciate the sight, but it was almost impossible not to appreciate someone who looked as good as he did.
“How’s the hair?” she asked, letting herself look at him even more closely for a moment to assess the work she’d done on him earlier.
“Best haircut I’ve ever had,” he said without equivocation. “I washed it in the shower, ran a towel over it when I got out and barely had to touch it from there.”
She fought the mental picture of him in the shower—and out of it. Naked. Big and strong and tight. Hard muscles glistening wet. Reaching those impressive arms up to rake a towel over that dark, thick hair and making those massive shoulders stretch while the sinews of his back flexed all the way down to those great glutes she’d caught a peek of when he’d left her station today...
Whew! That was not something she should be thinking about, either! And she wasn’t quite sure where all
