Inhaling sharply, she turned and walked to a nearby gourmet pretzel shop, giving him the opportunity to chase her obvious interest… or not. She knew instinctively that he was a man who pursued.

She reached the counter and glanced up at the menu. The smell of warm, yeasty bread and melted butter made her mouth water. The last thing she needed before sitting on her ass for another hour straight was a carbohydrate bomb like a giant pretzel. Then again, maybe the rush of serotonin would soothe nerves jangled by the sensory input from the large number of people around her.

She ordered. “Pretzel sticks, please. With marinara sauce and a diet soda.”

The clerk relayed the total. Lindsay dug into her purse for her wallet.

“Allow me.”

God… that voice. Tantalizingly sonorous. Lindsay knew it was him.

He reached around her and she breathed in his exotic scent. Not cologne. Just earthy, virile male. Crisp and pure, like air cleansed by a rainstorm.

He slid a twenty-dollar bill across the counter. She smiled and let him.

It was too bad she was wearing her oldest pair of jeans, a loose T-shirt, and army-issue jungle boots. Great for ease of movement, but she would’ve preferred to look hot for this guy. He really was way out of her league, from the movie-star good looks to the Vacheron Constantin watch on his wrist.

Turning to face him, she held out her hand. “Thank you, Mr…?”

“Adrian Mitchell.” He accepted the handshake, with the addition of his thumb stroking across her knuckles.

Lindsay had a visceral response to his touch. Her breath caught and the tempo of her heartbeat accelerated. Up close, he was devastating. Both fiercely masculine and terrifyingly beautiful. Flawless. “Hi, Adrian Mitchell.”

He reached down and caught her luggage tag with long, elegant fingers. “Nice to meet you, Lindsay Gibson… from Raleigh? Or returning there?”