“Thanks,” he said, thinking he needed to step away from her and not let Bella Bostwick crowd his space. But he also very much wanted to keep her right there. Topping the list was her scent. He wasn’t sure what perfume she was wearing but it was definitely an attention grabber, although her beauty alone would do the trick.

“You’re welcome. Now I suggest we sit down or I’m going to get a crook in my neck staring up at you.”

He heard the smile in her voice and then saw it on her lips. It stirred to life something inside of him and for a moment he wondered if her smile was genuine or practiced and quickly came to the conclusion it was genuine. During his thirty-four years he had met women who’d been as phony as a four-dollar bill but he had a feeling Bella Bostwick wasn’t one of them. In fact, she might be a little too real for her own good.

“I don’t want that to happen,” he said, easing down on her sofa and stretching his long legs out in front of him. He watched as she then eased down in the comfortable looking recliner he had bought Herman five years ago for his seventy-fifth birthday.

Jason figured this was probably one of the craziest things he’d ever done, sit with a woman in her living room in the middle of the day and converse with her while sipping tea. But he was doing it and at that moment, he couldn’t imagine any other place he’d rather be.

Bella took a sip of her tea and studied Jason over the rim of her cup. Who was he? Why was she so attracted to him? And why was he attracted to her? And she knew the latter was true. She’d felt it that night at the ball and she could feel it now. He was able to bring out desires in her that she never felt before but for some reason she didn’t feel threatened by those feelings. Instead, although she really didn’t know him, she felt he was a powerhouse of strength, tenderness and protectiveness all rolled into one. She knew he would never hurt her.

“So, tell me about yourself Jason,” she heard herself say, wanting so much to hear about the man who seemed to be taking up so much space in her living room as well as in her mind.

A smile touched his lips when he said, “I’m a Westmoreland.”

His words raised her curiosity up a notch. Was being a Westmoreland supposed to mean something? She hadn’t heard any type of arrogance or egotism in his words, just a sense of pride, self-respect and honor.

“And what does being a Westmoreland mean?” she asked as she tucked her legs beneath her to get more comfortable in the chair.