There I was, minding my own business at Peachtree Books when this lunatic comes racing in the door and knocks me into his arms. I would have ripped him a new one, but he was kinda familiar, and hot. Like I-want-to-have-your-beautiful-babies-now hot.
Turns out he looks familiar because I stare at his gorgeous face on TV every week. Yup, Dalton Deangelo. In the oh-so-firm flesh.
I let him hide out from the press for a while, then I thought he'd be on his way, and I could breathe normally again. But no. He found me interesting. He wanted to tag along to my cousin's wedding with me. I couldn't say no to that face . . . or those eyes. Before the night was through, he was saying sweet things, then dirty things. Very dirty things.
I try to keep my eyes wide open. I've made terrible, stupid mistakes in the past. But Dalton Deangelo's touch turns me to Jell-O.
I'm just a regular girl, and he's rich and famous with no body fat. The guy has a butler! So, why is he chasing me? And why can't I say no? And what is this sordid secret of his the reporters are trying to uncover?