“Her first thought was that he was drunk or high, but he hadn't struck her as the type for either. He stopped in his tracks at the sight of her, and swayed slightly while she parked the truck. His aviator sunglasses hung broken and useless from one hand. He wore jogging shorts and no shirt. She would have gasped at the vast expanse of nicely molded chest revealed, except it appeared to be splattered in blood. Panic mode nearly stopped her heart, but she got a grip and steadied herself. He wasn't... anything to her. She would just take a neighborly interest in the situation. It would be a hell of a lot easier if he didn't look like a gladiator who'd just ripped off a lion's head. “Went a little round with the boys?” she inquired with disinterest. Approaching him, she noticed the bruise forming along his patrician cheekbone. She checked the urge to caress the swelling. The man practically exuded male musk and testosterone, and she halted far enough away not to be drawn into the trap. “Look and see if Kismet is here,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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