Читать книгу His Hidden American Beauty - Connie Cox, Connie Cox - Страница 2

“Of course.”

Annalise had the strongest urge to turn around so she could look into his eyes, but practicality took over. What she saw there could have no bearing upon her.

As she tugged her cart it turned sideways, crashing into this man who made her feel things she didn’t want to feel. If she were only as graceful as she was independent.

“Sorry.” She meant for her gaze to skitter across his face, but his eyes ensnared hers.

Tiger eyes. Amber-golden with specks of brown, rimmed in a darker brown. Tiger eyes with a depth of—sorrow?—behind the brightness.

“No problem.”

He blinked, releasing her and allowing her to blink as well. When he raised an eyebrow at her she realized she’d been staring.

Flustered, she yanked her cart, banging into the counter and almost taking out the passenger scanner. He must think her a total klutz.

What did it matter what he thought? Odds were they would never see each other again unless he had a medical emergency. And he certainly looked healthy to her. Well-worn jeans and a wrinkled T-shirt couldn’t hide his physical fitness.

She bumped into passengers all the time. None of them elicited a significant response from her.

Annalise overcame the impulse to check him out one more time.

What was it about him that made her feel …? What? Aware? Self-conscious? Tingly? That made her feel anything at all?