The man removed his parka, revealing a plaid flannel shirt, the triangle of a white, cold-weather T-shirt peeping from the open neckline. When he raised his arms, thick bands of muscle rippled across his chest, beneath the layers of fabric. He riveted her with brilliant azure eyes, bluer than a lake under the summer’s sun. His hair, which curled a bit boyishly at his temples, resembled a wet beach, light, dirty brown, with shimmering bronze threads straggling through the locks. But this was no boy. No, indeed.
God. Gorgeous did not even begin to cover it.