Actually, to say he was “gorgeous” would be the understatement of the century.

The man I bumped into was tall—he towered over me, and I wasn’t a short girl. His hair was black, that deep, dark kind of black that seemed to hint of danger. His eyes were a piercing blue, looking out from a face of perfectly sculpted cheekbones and a wide, strong jaw. I glanced at his lips, created for kissing. And he was dressed in a dark suit, one that appeared both expensive and perfectly tailored for his well-proportioned body. The scent of his manly cologne caused my insides to moan.

I opened my mouth to say something, but the man had me so taken aback that I couldn’t even think of words to say, let alone form and spit them out.

“My fault,” he said, his voice low and sensual. “I was making a beeline for the bottle.” He flashed me a small smile, one that made his already handsome face even more striking.

“No,” I said, finally regaining my powers of speech. “My bad, one-hundred percent. I was off in space.”

The charming smile still on his face, he took the bottle from the shelf and looked it over. “I blame the label,” he said. “Far too eye-catching.”

I chuckled. I was still a little jarred from the unexpected touch, but something about this man put me at ease right away. As I looked him over, I saw that he was likely around my age, no more than five or so years older.

“You’re right about that,” I said. “To be honest, I have no idea what to look for with wine. So the one with the well-drawn duck was a natural choice.”

“Good call,” he said, taking another look at the bottle in his hands. “The label is key to a great wine.” He winked, then placed the bottle back on the shelf and picked up another. “This would’ve been my second choice,” he said, showing me a bottle with, sure enough, a label of some French vineyard estate.

“Château Martin,” he said, affecting a slight French accent to his voice. “Can’t go wrong with a nicely drawn sketch.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, my hand shooting up to cover my mouth.

“My name’s Justin, by the way,” he said, extending his hand toward me. “I figured you ought to know the name of the guy who’s about to buy the bottle of wine you had your eye on.”

I took his hand, his skin warm and just rough enough. A thrill ran up my spine as our hands touched, and my heart beat faster. Still taken aback by his almost inhumanly good looks, I forced myself to focus and set aside the fact that I was talking to perhaps the best-looking guy I’d ever seen in person.

“Oh,” I said, my tone playfully challenging. “And you think I’m just going to let you take it? This duck wine is really calling out to me—I might have to fight you for it. And I’m Heather, by the way.”

“Well, Heather, something tells me you’re the type,” he said. “And you might very well win. On the ‘lover’ and ‘fighter’ spectrum, I’m definitely more toward the former.”

I laughed again, partially at his joke, partially out of nervous excitement. Like before, my hand covered my mouth.

“You know,” he said. “When you’ve got a charming laugh like that, you’re really doing the world a disservice by covering it up.”

I felt my cheeks go hot as a blush spread across them.

“I don’t know about that,” I said. “You haven’t heard me do a full-on snort-laugh.”

“I can’t imagine it’d be any less charming.”

More nervous laughter sounded and, as if on cue, this one came with a quick snort, followed by more blushing.

“Ah, and there it is,” he said. “And just like I thought, exactly as charming.”

I waved my hand through the air. “Oh, stop,” I said. “I sound like a total nerd.”

He cocked his head to the side as if considering the statement. “Maybe a little nerdy, true,” he said. “But think how unfair it’d be if a girl who looked like you had a totally perfect laugh. We all need a flaw or two.”

My heart beat even faster—now he was flirting with me, and not even pretending that he wasn’t. I couldn’t believe that a guy this attractive was giving me the time of day.

“Anyway,” he said. “Would be it be too prying to ask what the occasion for the wine is?”

“You mean the wine you’re going to buy right out from under my nose?” I asked with a grin.

“The very same.”

“I’m going to a friend’s party. Figured I’d bring something with me.”

As I said the words, I felt my mood shift from the excitement of talking to Justin to the nervous hesitation that the party had brought to mind. And I could see by the slight narrowing of his eyes that he picked up on it.

“A considerate guest,” he noted. “And how much are you looking forward to this party? On a scale of one-to-ten?”

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, wondering how appropriate it would be for me to get into it. But Justin made me feel at ease, like I could tell him anything. Still, I kept myself in check.

“I’d say about a three. Somewhere around a doctor’s appointment and a trip to the DMV.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly.

“Now, I’m not an expert on such things, but I would think a party would have the opposite effect.”

I very, very nearly spilled the beans then. The reason for me feeling this was partially that I really wasn’t the party type anymore, but there was something deeper to it. Ever since I had Faye, I’d been so wrapped up with her that my old life, one that did involve the occasional wild night out, seemed more and more like a distant memory with each passing day.

And now, I felt like I was a million miles from my old friends. Julia and I had grown closer, what with both of us having a kid, but my old friends almost seemed like they were a different species. What would I even talk about with them? They’d be going on about guys or their jobs or whatever trendy brunch place they’d last hit up, and I’d talk about what—that new brand of diapers that was both cheap and effective that I was totally thrilled about?

Bringing this up to Justin, however, was a no-go. Was there a topic that could bring flirting to more of a grinding halt than mentioning a baby?

“You would think so,” I said. “But I’m not feeling it today. My friend I haven’t seen in a while invited me out, but I’m going more out of a sense of obligation than anything else.”

“Is that right?” he asked. “And is spending your Friday night out fulfilling an obligation how you want to spend it?”

“No,” I said. “Not really, now that you mention it.”

“And what would you rather be doing?”

I didn’t have the first clue as to how to answer that question. Faye had been the focal point of my life for the last six months, and what I wanted didn’t even enter the picture.

“That’s…a really good question,” I said. “I hadn’t even thought about it.”

“Then maybe you should do that,” he said with a smile. “Go ahead—I’ll guard the wine.”

I flashed him an intrigued expression before doing as he suggested. I let my mind go blank as I tried to figure out what sounded good to me. Some quiet came to mind, but not the “at home watching TV” sort of quiet—more like that of a mellow atmosphere. And I don’t know if it was simply being surrounded by the wine that was doing it, but a drink sounded delicious.

“I’m imagining…being someplace relaxing. Maybe some chill music playing. And a delicious drink in front of me.”

“Hmm,” said Justin. “I think I have just the thing. That is, if you don’t mind me buying you a drink.”

Whoa, what was this—was he asking me out?

“Are you inviting me for a drink?” I asked, my heart rate picking up again.

“I am,” he said. “I’m thinking someplace other than the red wine aisle would be a better venue for our conversation.”

Right at that moment, a customer appeared behind us, angling her body to get past Justin and me. I realized that I’d been so wrapped up in the conversation that I’d totally spaced on where I was.

“Sure,” I said. “That sounds nice.”

“I think so too,” he said. “Life’s too short to do anything but what you want.”

I knew at that moment that whoever this mysterious, charming man was, he didn’t have any kids. No one with a little one to worry about would ever say something like that. But I didn’t mind—it was the exact attitude that I wanted for the evening.

He set the bottle of wine back on the shelf and turned his attention to me.

“Then let’s not waste another second,” he said.

I smiled. “Let’s not.”