“Hey, Grace!”
The masculine shout followed by a sharp wolf whistle had Grace Feeney freezing in the middle of the footpath, near the bus stop. She glanced over her shoulder to see a six-feet-plus bearded man with shaggy brown hair bearing down on her. His faded jeans clung to the muscles of his thighs while a well-washed gray T-shirt—obviously destined for the rag bag soon—hugged his broad chest.
While she’d been gaping at the scruffy man, he’d used his long legs to cross the road and reach her side.
“Grace.” The man’s voice was softer now, his eyes a bright, sunshiny-day blue attracting her attention. “Put down your shopping and let me give you a hug.”
It was the sight of his even white teeth and his husky voice that jogged her to sanity and rattled her memory back into sync. “Cullen?
