“If you need assistance picking out a romance novel, I can help.”
His gaze snapped to the woman standing two feet away holding a book in each hand—the redhead from The Quilted Quail. She’d traded in her mini-skirt for a pair of jean shorts, but that didn’t affect his reaction. The desire he’d felt when he first saw her returned full force.
“But if it’s your first time—” she continued, placing the books back on the shelf “—you might want to steer clear of erotica.”
“Erotica?” Logan glanced at the book in his hand. On the front cover was a practically nude woman lying on a bed. A man in leather pants stood next to her holding a whip. It looked like an image out of a men’s magazine, not something he’d find on the shelf in his hometown. “Mount Pleasant sells erotica?”
“Not much,” she said grimly. “But what they do have is pretty good.”
She stepped toward him, close enough for him to smell a hint of her soft, floral scent—not overpowering, but enticing—and reached for a book on the shelf above his head. The side of her breast brushed his arm, sending a red-alert signal through his body.
“If you’re looking for a classic romance, this is one of my favorites.” She held out a copy of a Jane Austen novel.
He shook his head. “Read that one in high school. It wasn’t for me.”
She placed the book on the shelf and turned to him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “To find the perfect romance, I’ll need to know a little bit more about you.”
Was she hitting on him? It had been so long since he’d played that game, he wasn’t sure of his next move.
Tired of sitting on the sidelines waiting for his life to restart, he decided to take a chance. What was the worst thing that could happen? She’d walk away leaving him with a hard-on he wasn’t sure he was ready to act on? At least he’d have felt something other than loneliness and grief.
