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“Good grief, another boy,” Shogun Duke said laughing. “Striker, Quasar, Stonewall and now you, Andrew. Can’t any of you produce girls?”
Andrew grinned. “We prefer letting the princess be the only girl for a while.”
Theprincesswas what Sheppard’s surrogate sons called his four-year-old daughter, Ava Serena Granger--Roland’s goddaughter. Sheppard had three adult sons--Jace, Caden and Dalton. Everyone had been shocked when he announced that he and Carson were having a baby. There was nearly a twenty-nine-year age difference between Ava and Sheppard’s youngest son, Dalton.
After the five men walked off to mingle with others, Roland decided to step outside on the patio to grab a breath of the June air.
As he headed in that direction, he noticed a woman admiring one of the paintings he’d helped Stonewall hang on the wall just last week. He recognized both the painting and the woman.
The painting was that of Dak and Mellie’s home in Vermont. The Winding River Estates had been captured beautifully on canvas with its hillsides, valleys, waterfalls, lake and streams; as well as the monstrosity of a house that sat right in the middle.
The first time he’d been invited to the Winding River Estate he’d thought it was picture perfect. Joy had thought so as well, which is why she’d wanted it captured on canvas. Mellie had surprised her with it as a house-warming gift.
And as for the woman…
Dr. Lennox Roswell was a medical examiner with the Charlottesville Police Department. Her expertise had been credited with helping the authorities solve a number of homicide cases.
She was also a very beautiful woman. And the man in him could definitely appreciate just how good she looked in the outfit--a short dress that showed her sexy curves and the beauty of her long legs--she was wearing tonight.
She was absolutely gorgeous—from her beautiful face, right down to those stilettos she always wore, not just after hours but even when she was on duty. But then, she definitely had the legs for them.
One night when he’d been working late at the office and had nothing better to do, he’d researched information on her with GRETA, a state-of-the-art search engine that specialized in providing information that couldn’t be found anywhere else.
According to GRETA, Dr. Roswell had moved to Charlottesville from Boston a few years ago. Before moving to Virginia, she’d been engaged to be married to a man who was also a medical examiner. Four months before the wedding was to take place, while attending an annual Forensic Scientist Convention, her fiancé had died from an allergic reaction to a meal he’d eaten.
Roland wasn’t sure what it was about Dr. Roswell that had first drawn his attention. He figured any other man would immediately blame it on those knockout legs of hers and her penchant for wearing stilettos. But there was so much to her. Her facial features were classically beautiful and were only enhanced by an incredible pair of whiskey brown eyes. The rich mocha coloring of her skin, as well as the sexy shape of her lips, also drew him. And every time he saw her his fingers itched to touch that gorgeous mane of dark brown hair that flowed loosely around her shoulders.
Roland had to admit to himself that he was taken with the woman. Each time he saw her over the last few months, whenever he attended a party or wedding reception where she was also a guest, he couldn’t seem to look away. And he’d caught her looking a few times as well.
Their gazes would meet across a room and hold for a heart-stopping moment--one that was longer than necessary. And the sexual chemistry between them sizzled, immediately turning up the heat in the room.
Only he wasn’t happy to discover he was so attracted to her. His heart belonged to his late wife. And so, he’d tried to avoid being alone with her. And he’d managed…until now.
As she studied the painting, she shifted positions, moving around on those long, long legs. His gaze followedthe movement and he couldn’t hold back the groan that slipped past his throat. The last thing he wanted to do was stand there, lusting after a woman. Especially this particular woman. This very dangerous woman.
But at the moment, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
• • •
Roland Summers was watching her.
Lennox Roswell didn’t have to turn around to know that as fact. She wasn’t sure where he was, but that really didn’t matter. Wherever he was, she could sense those dark brown eyes trained on her. She could feel it on every inch of her skin.
The first time she’d noticed him had been the day they’d met a few years ago. Granted, she might not have been involved with a lot of men during her lifetime, but she knew sexual chemistry when she felt it, and with Roland, she was always feeling it.
Whenever they were in the same place, their gazes would invariably meet--and lock--even when they were in a crowded room. And sometimes, she could actually feel the air between them sizzle.
She had known the moment he’d arrived tonight. Even without setting eyes on him, she’d known. Somehow, she’d felt his presence and her body was acting accordingly. What was there about him that made her pulse race and her breath catch with overwhelming attraction?
In short, it was everything about the man. Every physically fit inch of him. Those biceps-- the envy of most men—as well as his sculpted pecs and firm stomach, made him stand out from the crowd. She recalled seeing him in a tux at Stonewall and Joy’s wedding. She’d actually drooled. Other times, he usually wore jeans and a pullover shirt. She always appreciated a man with a great looking tush and the shirts he wore emphasized his wide chest.
And not only was Roland Summers a fine physical specimen, he was also handsome; far more handsome than any man truly had a right to be. Although he came across as well-mannered, contained and controlled, there was an edge to him. His walk, though smooth, was almost predatory…lethal. Anyone unwise enough to mess with him would soon find out that he’d kick ass first and ask questions later. She figured it had a lot to do with the fact that he owned a security-protection firm. Or maybe it was because he’d been a cop. Whatever it was, she found it irresistible.
He was so fine that just thinking about him made certain parts of her body ache. It was only at times like this, when their eyes met, that she was reminded of how long it had been since she’d shared a bed with a man.
Not since DeWalt.
But truth be told, not even DeWalt Bellamy, the man she’d been engaged to marry, had stirred this much desire within her. They’d dated all through college and medical school and had been forensic scientists who’d loved their work and each other. But the invigorating stimulation and passion they’d felt for their profession never really followed them to the bedroom. At the time, that hadn’t bothered her all that much. She’d never considered herself a physically passionate person anyway.
