…Richard looked up. A host of things happened, and in such rapid succession he could barely process them. One thing he was painfully aware of—he hadn’t had an erection this hard in ages.

To say Abby Strickland was drop-dead gorgeous was a gross understatement. Now he knew the true meaning of the phrase “brick house.” Abby didn’t specifically resemble either of her parents. It was as if the powers that be threw the couple’s genes in a blender, mixed them up really good, and out came this beautiful woman.

Her shoulder-length hair carried hints of blond in the brunette. Makeup enhanced her features delicately rather than bragged about them. She wore a tropical print sundress of deep rose, blue, and purple that wafted against her shins with every step. He’d never wanted to see a woman’s legs more.

Laughter in her brown eyes matched the smile on her just-right lips. A smile that was directed right at him, just as those eyes were. Somehow Richard forced himself to stand, then blessed whatever gods existed that his back was to the crowd at the larger table and her parents were focused on her.

She hugged her mother, then her father, all the while watching him. Then she wrapped those wondrous arms around him. The hint of vanilla speared his senses. He was aware of every curve, every press of her body against his. And one thing was certain—she could damn well feel his response.