“Good,” she replied, smiling down at him after pushing away her earlier thoughts. “I never was a fan of ‘pretty’ men.”

She preferred a man that wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, one with hands roughened from real work and who would take a t-shirt and jeans over Armani any day.

Thankfully Clint didn’t linger long in his task, probably heeding her earlier warning, and though he let his hand wander it wasn’t long before they were on their way up the stairs to the restaurant. Already she could smell a dozen delicious scents wafting down toward them.