“Miss Goodman? I hope your journey wasn’t too uncomfortable.” He removed his hat from his head.
Laney swallowed back the lump in her throat. She nearly slapped her own cheek. She couldn’t stop staring at him. Strands of sandy blonde, nearly brown hair spilled over his forehead. A five o’clock shadow covered his square jaw and above his lip, giving him a ruggedly masculine look. The smile on his face didn’t seem to reach his eyes, but it did give him a certain boyish look. He was a lot younger than she expected. She’d pictured some middle-aged or older man, not this athletic, drop-dead gorgeous guy in his mid-twenties. Everything about him screamed rugged outdoorsman. So unlike the type of guys she’d met in the city.
His intense gaze held hers, and she detected a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. She blinked, breaking the contact. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be tripping all over herself. This day . . . these last two days, ever since she stepped into that limousine in L.A., had been too good to be true. Laney mentally shook her head. Nothing good ever happened to her.