For some stupid reason, that touched her. It was a basic courtesy, yet it melted her very vulnerable heart. Other men could do the same and she would think nothing of it, except that they were decent human beings who had been raised well, but there was something about Ty that had always affected her differently, from the very first time she’d met him.

She wasn’t sure whether she liked it or hated it.

“Thanks.” Taking his hand, she got out of the car, expecting he would let go of her the minute she was vertical. He didn’t. He just held her hand and led her into the garage and through the back door into his kitchen, flicking on lights as they went.

Imogen wasn’t sure what she had expected his house to look like, but immediately she realized it suited Ty. The kitchen cabinets were Shaker style, light wood with simple lines, of a high quality with furniture like detailing. He had a farmhouse sink and soapstone countertops, and the walls were a rich, deep red. She only caught a glimpse of the family room, but it had a stone fire-place that went from hearth to ceiling and big plush furniture in warm caramel and suede tones. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was also a giant deer head hanging on the wall, which wasn’t unusual for a man who loved the outdoors, but she was still grateful it was too dark to see those glassy eyes staring down at her.

The only thing she had ever hunted down were bargains at Saks and elusive research documents.

When they stepped into his bedroom, Ty turned on the light, which was an iron chandelier dead center over the very big, very masculine bed. It was made up, with a plethora of red throw pillows on the faux suede duvet, and the whole room was tidy and clean. She was impressed.

Ty dropped her hand and left her standing on the plush beige carpet, feeling incredibly aroused and terribly awkward. He dug into his nightstand and emerged with a lighter that he used to light several candles placed around the room. His nervous dialogue seemed to have disappeared and she longed for it to return, because with each second of silence, her anxiety increased, which irritated her.

She was a grown woman and she wanted to do this. A lot.

Which was ironically why she was so nervous. She was vested in the outcome. She wanted to please him and was aware of her shortcomings. No one had ever put the words bimbo and Imogen in the same sentence. Or badass. Or seductive. Any of what she had to assume were the typical male fantasies. Her approach had always been enthusiasm rather than technique, and what if that wasn’t good enough for Ty?

She was giving herself a mental lecture when he dimmed the overhead light and turned to her with a smile that immediately disappeared when he caught sight of her. “What’s wrong?”