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Stop it, Kylie. Stop this right now!
Oh, God, I didn’t need to start believing that Dylan Lancaster actually found me attractive.
Not when I knew he could be surrounded by a bevy of goddesses if that’s what he wanted.
I wasn’t ugly.
I wasn’t hypercritical about my appearance.
However, I was realistic, and I wasn’t the type of woman a man like Dylan Lancaster would lust after.
He was a billionaire, highly sophisticated, and educated, and most men like him would end up with a hot, blonde supermodel in their beds.
Possibly more than one.
Not some ordinary, redheaded, working-class woman like me.
I shrugged. “I’m actually okay with who I am now,” I told him honestly.
Maybe I hadn’t been the grand prize winner in the gene pool lottery, but I liked the woman underneath my average exterior most of the time. That was more important, and something I couldn’t have said a decade ago.
Oh, hell, maybe I still couldn’t take a compliment well.
It had taken me a long time to get over the beating my confidence had taken during my marriage, and I wasn’t used to men as slick as Dylan when it came to outrageous compliments.
“Thanks for saying such nice things, though,” I added, not wanting him to think his kindness went unnoticed.
“Kylie?” he queried.
“Yes?”
“I didn’t tell you that you’re beautiful just to be polite. I meant every word I said.”
Flustered, I grabbed my coffee as a distraction and tried like hell to change the subject.
