Damp tendrils of dark hair clung to her neck and her face was flushed with heat; no doubt in reaction to the temperatures here in the greenhouse. Still, he couldn’t help but suspect that everything about her would always scream heat at him, even if they were both blue with cold and standing in an igloo.

Not that he wasn’t fervently grateful for the sultry conditions around them, which he assumed were responsible for the abbreviated outfit she wore. Her bare shoulders rose out of a yellow halter top that seemed barely big enough to contain her full, round breasts, and which brilliantly accentuated the narrowness of her waist. Her cut-off jeans had been slit high enough on the sides to expose an extremely gratifying amount of firm, tanned thigh. So, okay, maybe the scuffed work boots didn’t do all that much for him, but, he decided as his glance slid slowly back up the bronze expanse of bare leg, he could easily overlook a little thing like that.

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