Faith hung back from the quick-moving crowd as the bus doors snapped open. She smoothed her palms down her denim-encased thighs. She loved these jeans. Two years of wear and they were perfectly molded to her body—snug in all the right places.

She smiled in delight as she took in the fine white dusting that covered her world. Sauntering along the sidewalk, she inhaled the damp flavor of the unexpected precipitation. When her apartment was in full view, she slowed even more, pulling her jacket tighter to her body in an effort to block out the chill. She gazed up at the jagged roofline of her neighborhood. A snowflake tickled her chin. She gasped when a snowball whizzed past her head. Faith twirled and spotted the guilty faces of two young boys, clearly as infatuated by the frosty carpet as she was. She smiled when the boys took off in a sprint, stirring up a flurry of snow in their wake.

Walking backward, she kept her gaze glued to their retreating figures, daring them to go another round with her. She had skills. A secret weapon in any war waged with snow. Years of baseball and two older brothers had resulted in a very impressive throwing arm. She wished the boys would come back so she could use it.

Somewhere in between her scheming and reminiscing, she lost her footing. She let out a yelp as she fell, but before her body hit the ground a pair of strong, masculine arms caught her from behind.

The damp scent of the air was smothered by the musk of a man. Faith squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment, but when the stranger effortlessly helped her regain her feet, she couldn’t wait to see his face.

She turned in his arms, her eyes opening then widening in amazement. It was him. The man she had fantasized about since she first laid eyes on him over two weeks ago. They crossed paths at least three times during that span but never more than a smile or a nod was exchanged. Outwardly. Inwardly, she wanted to tear his clothes off with her teeth.

God, that smile. Slightly crooked with a hint of arrogance. Her shaky knees weakened further. He was tall—at least six feet—with long, lean limbs and broad shoulders. His thick dark hair made her ache to run her fingers through it. It wasn’t until he blinked brown eyes that she realized he was still holding her upright. He looked as though he was waiting for her to say something.

Faith sorted through her scrambled brain and managed to latch onto a simple, “Thank you.”

“Are you okay?” he finally asked. The genuine concern in his voice surprised her.

She stumbled away from him, sputtering a laugh. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” She brushed her hair from her face and readjusted the purse strap on her shoulder. “Thanks to you,” she added.

“Adrian.” His left hand dipped into his pants pocket as he extended his right. Strong, sure fingers curved around hers. His palm was hot.
“Oh, uh, Faith,” she stuttered.

He held her hand longer than was necessary. She cocked her head to the side, biting her lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. Seconds ticked by, not enough, but still he held her hand.

“So I, uh, live there…in that, um…over there,” she rambled, pointing behind him with her free hand. “That building there.”

His eyes remained fixed on her.

She wiggled her confined hand, gasping in surprise when it easily slid from his grip and fell at her side. “Well, I should….” she trailed off, her feet moving away from him.

“Careful.” Adrian chuckled. “Unless you want a repeat performance.”

Her lips parted while she considered his statement. “Oh, the falling,” she realized, watching in dazed fascination as he closed the gap between them.

“Am I making you nervous?” Her eyes drifted from his smirking lips to his smooth neck that was partially hidden under a heavy wool jacket, to his dark blue jeans with a rip near the left pocket.

“Yes,” she answered, her eyes trained on his belt buckle.

He lifted her chin with the tip of his index finger. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?”