Maybe those very things were the reason he found her so fascinating, though after talking to her, he wouldn’t call her shy. Quiet, but not shy. He gave her a smile, one that even as he did it, he knew was flirtatious. He shouldn’t, not there, not with her, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “You’ll always be Emma Jean to me.”

Imogen laughed. “I can’t decide if that’s a compliment or not.”

“It is, but it’s a subtle one. But now I’m going to give you an obvious compliment.” Even as the words were coming out of his mouth, Ty was telling himself to shut up, to not go there with this woman who was so clearly out of his league, but he didn’t listen.

Her eyes widened behind her glasses.

They were standing closer than was necessary for conversation, but Ty noticed neither one of them was backing off. He touched her cheek, amazed at how soft her skin was. “You’re very beautiful. Not an original compliment, but it’s still true.” Ty ran his fingers across her lips. “Pretty women can start to look the same, but you stand out. Your beauty is unique.”

Imogen started to think that Ty McCordle had consumed way too much alcohol at the party. He was staring at her like he wanted to eat her, piece by piece, or at the very least kiss her, and he was touching her. He was touching her and she was covered in goose bumps that arguably were from the rain soaking, but more likely were from a sudden surge in her hormone levels, since Ty was the very man that for months she had been fighting a physical attraction to. And now he was staring at her like he was actually attracted to her as well, which was unnerving.

She couldn’t explain this turn in events. It couldn’t really be possible that Ty was interested in her. More likely it was pure convenience. She was on the porch. So was he. He was a flirt, end of story.

Which didn’t explain why he was suddenly stepping back and peeling off his T-shirt to reveal a washboard stomach and a chest that just screamed for her to explore. Oh. My. God. What the hell was he doing?

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice a full octave higher than normal.

“Your hair is still dripping wet and I never went to get you a towel. Use my shirt.”