"Why here?" Elena asked.
Daniel stepped closer.
His shadow fell over her as he placed both hands on the marble counter.
"Because," he said, his low voice edged with lazy amusement, "the owner knows how to pick good oranges."
Elena remembered the orange she had given him and felt heat rise into her face.
She pressed her lips together, gave in, and reached for his ID.
"One room, please."
Elena genuinely thought her little inn wasn't nearly grand enough for someone like Daniel Stone.
She gave him the best room available.
She opened the door.
"This is it."
By Daniel's third day at the inn, Elena had noticed that he appeared in the dining room at the exact same time every morning.
He always sat beside the window with a cup of coffee while his assistant stood nearby giving him work u
