“It’s you,” I say, still locked onto his stunning eyes. His dark brows pull together, and his mouth is set in a straight line. His jawline is a work of art. He’s even hotter up close. Broodier, but hotter. “I mean, I recognize you. You run by my house every day. I’m Jane.” He moves us so I’m standing on my own two feet instead of swooning in his arms, steadies me and then steps away. “Careful where you’re walking, Jane.”
