"A custom-built cowboy," marveled Grace. Could he be real? The man was magnificent -- everything a fantasy cowboy should be. Beneath the brim of a silver-gray Stetson, his eyes were a deep, piercing green, staring out at her from a sun-browned face that was as chiseled and remote as the peaks of the Rockies. Dark stubble had encroached all across the rough terrain of his jaw and the hollow beneath his jutting cheekbones, setting off a slightly crooked nose and firm mouth to road-weary, saddle-tramp perfection.
Grace stared, thunderstruck, longing for him to be real. A shocking, sensuous, deliciously deep heat had begun to flow through her like a river. The man is an impostor, she tried to tell herself, but it didn't matter. He was that good. And she was... so ready.
So very ready.