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Snuggling up inside that sweater with him sounds way too good. I mean, I don't even know his name. But I can fix that problem.
I give him a mug of cocoa, then hold out my now-free hand. "Think we should introduce ourselves. I'm Samantha Lockhart, but everybody calls me Sam."
"Bennett Montague," he says, while slipping his palm into mine. "It's a pleasure to meet you. May I call you Sam? You can call me Ben. I prefer that."
"Sure, Ben, you can call me Sam." He can call me anything he wants as long as he says it in that accent. "Sorry about the sweater. The only men's clothing I could find were things that belonged to my grandfather. He was a large man, but he had skinny legs."
"Hewaslarge?"
"Yeah. Grandpa passed away two years ago."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Did you two get on well?"
I take a sip of my cocoa, letting the chocolatey goodness glide over my tongue and ooze warmth down my throat. "We were very close. He left me this cabin because I always loved visiting him here."
"Sounds like you have a lot of good memories of him."
"Mm-hm." I take another sip, then glance at his mug. "Are you going to drink that? It'll warm you up on the inside. Besides, I slaved away over a hot microwave to whip that up."
"Sorry." He takes a swig of his cocoa. "Mm, that's delicious. Best I've ever had."
"No need to lay it on so thick. I don't mind if my cocoa isn't the most wonderful on earth."
"But I'm not laying it on thick. I'm serious." He drinks some more and smiles. "Definitely the best I've ever had."
Oh, he could absolutely be the best I've ever had. I have a sixth sense about these things. Lustful psychic flashes are my specialty.
"Why don't we sit down?" I say.
"Sure."
I settle onto the sofa, but he takes one of the armchairs. Damn. I'd hoped he might sit next to me just so I can smell him. I bet he smells good. Lust at first sight isn't my thing, honestly. Dating, getting to know a guy, that's the right way to lead up to sex. Pulling a man out of a snowdrift and bringing him back to my place, where he strips naked for me, is not my usual method of getting laid.
Not that I plan on doing that with Ben. I don't do casual sex.
But he's so cute and hot. I could nibble on him for hours.
Weren't you supposed to be getting a grip, girl? Snap to it.
"So, where are you from, Ben?" I ask.
He fidgets in his chair, his whole face crimped. "That's a complicated question."
"Really? I always thought it was an easy question. Do you have amnesia and can't remember where you live?"
"No, that's not the issue." He guzzles his cocoa, then coughs several times. "Sorry. I drank too fast."
I smile. "Yeah, you kind of did. It's cocoa, not booze."
"Yes, I know." He sets his mug down on the little table beside his chair. "And I remember where I live. It's a village called Cockshire, in southeast England. I work there too, at a day spa owned by a mate."
"Mate means friend, right? Here in America, it usually means a significant other or maybe a prisoner in a jail cell. Oh wait, those areinmates, right? Not just mates."
"It's a good thing you're so adorable or I might be offended by that joke." He grins. "Actually, no, I wouldn't. I'm not that sensitive."
Did he just call me adorable? And he's smiling at me with a twinkle in his eyes. I could eat him up, that's how cuddly hot he is. Yes, a man can be both snuggly-wuggly and smokin' hot. Ben Montague proves that point.
"What about you?" he asks. "Where do you work and live?"
