“Good morning,” she said with her professional smile. “He’s beautiful. His name is Chester?”

The man frowned. She guessed him to be in his forties. He was very attractive, with a strong, lean body, dark hair, and the stance of a man who was used to being in authority. He didn’t look at all the way he’d sounded on the phone.

“No,” he said, his voice deep and cultured. “It’s not.”

Kelly gave a little start as she realized she might have made a mistake. “He’s not Chester? You’re not Mr. Verner?”

“I’m not.” He tossed the Frisbee again, causing the dog to run exuberantly over to catch it.

“Oh. Sorry.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m supposed to meet someone with a German shepherd, and you’re the only one here who matches that description.”

He smiled then, evidently assured she wasn’t some crazed stranger who was stalking his dog with a camera. “If it’s some sort of online dating hookup, you should get a better description of him, rather than just going for the dog.”

There was amusement in his tone and a kind of teasing flirtation in his expression, making him even more attractive than before. She liked the little lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes, and she liked the warm chocolate brown of his eyes.

His body was nothing to sneer at either—his muscle development graceful and strong, rather than bulky.

As she’d been studying him, he’d been doing the same with her, his gaze crawling over her from her painted toenails in her sandals to her dark gold hair in a low ponytail. It was pretty obvious that he liked the looks of her, since his gaze heated up as he drawled, “He sure won’t be disappointed in you, though.”

“It’s not an online dating thing,” she said, feeling a familiar prickle of excitement and interest running down her spine. Who was this guy, anyway? “It’s a client I’m meeting.”

“I see.” He gave her a leisurely smile, his eyes lingering at the slight cleavage exposed at the neckline of her tank top. “Well, he still won’t be disappointed.” When his dog ran up to him, offering the Frisbee excitedly, the man grabbed it and tossed it again.

“You move pretty fast, don’t you?” She was used to men coming on to her, but usually in bars or clubs, where they were clearly both there for that purpose. It wasn’t all that common for a man to come on strong like this in normal daily interaction.

It was strangely exciting, though. Her heart was starting to beat faster as she waited for his response.

He laughed softly, his eyes still lingering on her face and body in a way that felt deeply entitled. “You’re the one who approached me with a ridiculous pretense of looking for a client.”

“Hey! That wasn’t a pretense. It was an honest mistake.” She pulled out her business card and offered it to him. “See.”

The dog returned and, seeing that his owner was busy reading a business card, he flopped the Frisbee down at Kelly’s feet. She picked it up and gave it a good throw, watching the dog bound after it.

“Pet portraits?” the man asked skeptically, with that same smug laughter in his eyes.

“What’s your point?”

“Nothing. You’re just that type, aren’t you?”

“What type?”

“Pet portrait artist. At one with the universe. Lover of flowers and trees and all furry creatures. Filling the world with pretty objects and warm fuzzies. I bet they call you Blossom, don’t they?” His tone was bone dry, as if far above such sentiment.

He probably was. She could tell even from their brief interaction that he was too intelligent, too experienced, too competent to have patience with anything trite or saccharine.

She liked that about him. Despite her intentionally bohemian appearance just now, she was as far as possible from those feelings herself.

“You don’t know me at all,” she said, pleased at the cool aloofness of her tone.

It just made him smile. When his dog lay down with the Frisbee, panting blissfully, the man started walking toward him, evidently expecting Kelly to fall in step with him. “I know a little about you. I know you paint pet portraits. I know you’re wearing vegan sandals and are reluctant to cut your hair. And I know you have on your bracelet various charms of dogs, cats, birds, and flowers.” He arched his eyebrows. “I think I’ve got a pretty clear sense of you.”

The bracelet was stupid, but her clients always liked it, and her hair was indeed very long, hanging down to the small of her back. But this arrogant man couldn’t be more wrong.

He might be eerily observant, but he knew nothing.

“Is that right?” she replied, giving him arched eyebrows in response. “You might be surprised about me. But there’s no way I’d be surprised about you. I’d know your type in my sleep.”

“Blossom, you could know my type in your sleep, if you asked nicely.”

She felt another tingle of excitement at the sexiness of his tone but ignored it. “You wear a suit to work every day, don’t you?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing. It’s just your type. You’re one of those guys who wears a business suit like armor—going through the world as if the nameplate on your office entitles you to whatever you want. As if your bank account makes you superior.”

The words weren’t particularly gentle, but he looked interested rather than offended. “What makes you think I have anything impressive in my bank account?”

“Please. I know roughly how much that watch you’re wearing costs.”

Because of the Watsons, her adoptive parents, Kelly was in good shape financially, but she didn’t own anything except her car that cost as much as the watch he was wearing.

“And I bet you’re wondering why would I spend money on something so superficial when I could be donating it to all the homeless animals in the world?” Again, he was teasing in that intimate way, as if he really did know her.

“I’m not like that,” she told him, speaking only the truth.

“Sure you aren’t.” He flashed her a grin. “What happened to your client, anyway?”

Kelly had actually forgotten about her client, so absorbed in the conversation had she been. She gave a little jerk and turned back to scan the park, focusing on the entrance, but there was no sign of another man with a German shepherd. “I think I’ve been stood up. It happens sometimes.”

Just then, her phone chirped with another text, so she reached in to pull it out of her bag. “Maybe that’s him.”

When she focused on the screen, she realized it wasn’t her client. Are you sure? I’d make it worth your while. Promise.

She sighed. Jesse. Why the hell wouldn’t he just give up?

“Not your client,” the man beside her said.

She glanced up. “How do you know?”

“I’m pretty good at reading expressions. Who is it? Your boyfriend being annoying?”

He was actually quite close. Impressive, given that they were strangers. “No. Just a guy who won’t take no for an answer.”

“He has my sympathy.”

She sucked in a breath. “Why should he have your sympathy?”

He had that smug, heated amusement in his eyes again. “To get a taste of a hot little thing like you—and then get the door slammed in his face? Can’t help but feel sorry for him.”

“I didn’t slam the door in his face. I was nothing but honest with him. He’s the idiot who ignored what I told him and keeps bumbling on toward something he already knows he can’t have.”

The man chuckled and reached out to run his fingers gently down a long strand of her hair. “It doesn’t matter what you tell him, blossom. You’ve got this gorgeous, untouched sweetness about you. It’s like a promise and a challenge.”

Her whole body went hot at the texture of his words, at the tension and power she could feel in his hand, his shoulders, his gaze.

She knew what he was referring to. She’d been born with clear creamy skin, pink cheeks, big blue eyes, and a heart-shaped face that gave the impression of innocence. There was no way she could dress that would change her natural look, even though she’d desperately tried when she was younger.