"Nice view."

Anna froze. Her pencil fell to the table. She knew that deep voice with the thread of amusement running through it. But it couldn't be him—it couldn't. He was three thousand miles away. Slowly, she turned her head, looking over her shoulder to the door.

A tall man stood smiling at her from the doorway of her office. He was gorgeous: his jaw chiseled, nose arrow-straight. His short blond hair gleamed like old gold under the harsh florescent lights. Anna's fingers itched to touch it, to thread through the silken strands. Beneath the perfectly tailored suit he wore, she knew his shoulders were broad, tapering to a narrow waist. Probably well tanned, too; the memory of him standing on the dock in the hot summer sunshine in nothing but swim trunks made her mouth go dry. His casual stance—hands tucked into the pockets of his gray suit trousers—made him look like a model from a glossy magazine: fashionable, smooth and slightly dangerous.

In seconds, she was snared by laughing green eyes, mischief radiating from them, luring her in. The man of my dreams, Anna thought hazily as she straightened and turned toward him, pulled by some unbidden force. He walked to her, holdin