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“I’m sure I am not the first woman you’ve seen naked,” she scoffed, and rummaged through the cabinets for tea.
“No, but you are the first one I’ve seen who looks like that,” he replied easily, as if it were a compliment, but she couldn’t be sure.
Carolina ignored the remark and concentrated on the task at hand. It was a self-defense thing. When Carolina got antsy, she drank tea. And there was something about this insanely tall, and half as wide, man that made her nerves go into hyper-drive. Especially after that little comment.
Did he like the way she looked? Her ex had made it no secret that he’d rather she tried to lose weight. He’d even bought her exercise machines and fitness club memberships as presents during the holidays.
Talk about a jerk! Like Joffrey was some kind of perfect prize.
Now, if this man here had certain fitness expectations of his sexual partners, well, Caro could totally understand.
“I don’t think I introduced myself properly,” he said, standing in front of her suddenly.
He held out his hand, a wide grin splitting his face when she took it. If he was handsome before, he was drop-dead gorgeous now.
Holy cow.
“My name’s Jasper Wessex,” he growled, and she nodded.
“Um, I know. Jennifer said when you were still on the floor. I’m Caro—”
“Carolina Moore,” he finished, releasing her hand and backing up a step.
She cleared her throat and resumed getting the tea. The guy was physically perfect as far as she could see. Tall, muscular, and completely gorgeous. And way out of her league.
Caro was a chubby nerd, and he was obviously some kind of fitness nut. Hell, she’d never seen so many muscles.
Though, to be fair, he wasn’t all veiny and oiled up like some of those bodybuilders who went around posing and sporting thongs on Facebook.
Not him. His physique looked much more natural. Of course, she supposed good genes counted for a lot in life. Maybe his ancestors were dark-haired Vikings or something.
Carolina was a mutt herself. A mix of over half a dozen ethnicities from both her parents. The Moore’s were a melting pot. She was proud of her family’s mixed history, even though she seemed to get the shit genes.
Short, chubby, with wide hips and big feet. Size tens.
Ugh.
She did like her eyes, though. They were her best feature, along with her thick, long hair. As an artist, she appreciated beauty, and she was honest about it. It didn’t make her conceited to like certain things about herself.
This guy here, though, he hit the jackpot with his genetics. His height alone was extraordinary. Like a titan amongst men, she snorted at her own flight of fancy.
“Did you just snort?” he asked, and she turned around, eyes wide.
Shit.
She’d forgotten he was there. Adopting a nonchalant expression, she shrugged and poured the boiling water, watching as the liquid darkened before handing him the mug.
“Thank you. Mmm, smells like Christmas,” he said and grinned.
Dayum.
Being on the receiving end of one of his potent smiles was like a sucker punch to her long since used female bits.
“Um, it’s a cinnamon ginger tea blend. Jennifer always has a great variety,” she mumbled, feeling like a dork.
“Honey?”
“What?” she asked, turning once more.
