I hesitated, and then took his hand as he lifted me to my feet. I smiled. “I’m sorry, I thought I was alone.” I couldn’t help but stare. Those eyes, his smile. He was tall. Toned. He sent a shiver down my spine.
He smiled. “I’m Xavier.” He paused. “Xavier Brighton.”
“Randi Marshall,” I said, feeling my heart-beat begin to race.
He was gorgeous. I could feel my cheeks flushing as I stared at him. I stared long and hard. His black tee shirt was perfectly fitted, showing muscle definition. His dark jeans somehow hugged him in all the right places but fell loosely over his tennis shoes. I could feel more heat radiating from my face.
“Are you alright, Randi?” he asked, beaming, “You didn’t get hurt, did you?” He took a moment to look me over.
His smile made me weak in the knees. I took a moment to dust any remaining dirt and grass off. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I blushed. I was blushing. Twenty-five years old, and a man was making me blush. I felt like I was sixteen and unable to control myself. Any minute and I could see myself bursting into laughter for no reason at all. I bit down on my lip in an attempt to prevent myself from doing something stupid.
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