Page 3 of Protect My Heart

I quickly unlock the door and hold it open, but I stay where I am making her walk beneath my arm that’s braced on the door.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

I quickly let go of the door and step further into the apartment, giving her some space, because I’m being inappropriate, leering at her when she’s vulnerable. Not to mention I’m here on official business. I move away from the door, and I hear it slam behind me.

When I turn back to face her, she’s leaning against the closed door, sizing me up. There’s this moment where we both just stand there, staring at one another. And that’s the moment I know. This is the woman I’m going to marry. She is it for me.

Everything about her, from her ripe, full curves and the spicy citrus scent wafting off of her, to the waves of dark, damp hair tumbling over her shoulders calls out to me. But you know what pushes it over the edge? It’s the blaze of challenge in her eyes, like she’s daring me to tease her for getting herself into this situation.

Before I can drop to my knees and propose marriage, she bumps up her chin defiantly and steps forward like she’s going to march past me. Only there’s a flaw in her plan. One that neither of us sees until it’s too late. When her patio door closed, it snagged her towel.

When she takes a step forward, her towel falls away, leaving her very much naked in front of me.

Gloriously naked.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she mutters. “Of course this would happen. This is my day. This is me being independent.” She opens her arms wide, leaving nothing to my imagination. “Have a look, Mr. Fireman.”

“You’re bleeding,” I point to the blood smear on her right shin.

She releases a laugh. “Of course that’s what you’d notice. I’m standing here naked as the day I was born, and you only see my shaving cut. Perfect. Excuse me.” She shoulders past my body and disappears down the hall.

“It’s not that I didn’t notice anything else, it just wouldn’t be proper for me to comment on it,” I call after her.

“Please do not make this any more humiliating than it already is. Thank you for your assistance,” she says, coming back in the room. Now she’s wearing a pair of loose pajama pants and a tank top that’s inside out, but just might have the Muppets on it.

I will not try to look close enough to determine which Muppet is covering her left nipple. In fact, I won’t look at her body at all. I’ll act like a damn gentleman, instead of a creep.

Say something clever to ease the tension.

Or funny. Make her laugh.

Tell her how fucking amazing her body is and how I’m lamenting the fact that clothes exist.

“I think your balcony door is broken,” I say because evidently I’m incapable of being clever. “You might want to turn in a work order to the apartment manager.”

“Yeah, thanks.” She walks to her front door. “Did you have to break my lock or anything?”

“No ma’am, the front door was actually unlocked.”

“So any pervert could have come along to see me in my towel. That’s just perfect.” She squeezes her eyes shut and taps her nose. “Maybe my stupid brothers were right.”

“Not uncommon to leave doors unlocked in a small town like this,” I tell her.

“Born and raised.” She points at her chest.

“You said one of your brothers works for the station?” I ask because for some insane reason I’m still not leaving.

“Garrett Whitmore,” she says.

“Right. Well, it was a pleasure—”

“Please don’t,” she interrupts. “Let’s just both pretend today didn’t happen and then maybe someday we’ll meet under different circumstances.”

I nod. Then there’s nothing else left to say so I just turn and leave her apartment.

I climb into my truck and adjust my semi-hard dick before buckling my seatbelt.

I scrub a hand over my face trying to erase the perfect mental picture I have of Daphne Whitmore’s gorgeous naked body. I’ve never responded to a woman so quickly. Granted, I don’t normally see women naked the first time we meet. But something tells me that this attraction I’m feeling, the pull towards her, has more to do with her and not just her luscious curves.