Ten
Just her luck. Toni cursed her bad fortune as she led Alastair along the path of Trumpeter. She’d just started enjoying her time with the good-looking Scot. And then, with colossal bad timing, Bash had surfaced from the water like the effing Greek god of freshly thawed lakes.
Every single goddamn muscle was so sleek and defined, each hard ridge highlighted by the bright sunshine. His thigh muscles flexed with each step through the icy water. She tried to drag her gaze away from them only to end up staring at his rippling chest instead. When she tried to shift it again, she wound up staring at a scar on his shoulder. His wide, strong, familiar and yet wildly more adult shoulder.
Did that even make sense? She couldn’t catch her breath enough to know.
It took her underlying politeness
