Free Sinful Seduction by Ann Christopher

purpose of making men salivate. Windswept black curls brushed over her shoulders, which were heaving with silent sobs, and she kept her head bowed while she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
    There were few things he avoided like crying women—drinking the water in a couple of the shit holes where he’d done tours came to mind—and his gut instinct was to creep back into the shadows, make a belated appearance at his brother’s engagement party and leave her to her misery, which was, after all, none of his business.
    Except that the crunch of the gravel beneath his feet was like the clap of cymbals in the relative silence, and her sudden cringe was a dead giveaway that she knew he was there.
    And there was something unidentifiable about her that…
    Called to him? Touched him? Pulled him outside himself?
    “I don’t blame you for crying,” he said. “It’s not much of a party, is it?”
    That got her. To his overwhelming relief, her head came up—he realized she had a white flower tucked behind one ear—and she laughed, swiping at her tears as she turned in his direction.
    Whoa.
    That first glimpse of her face created an honest- to-God lightning-bolt moment, one that made his thoughts disperse and his breath whoosh out of his lungs. Her smile came and went, flashing a perfect white, and her dark doe’s eyes were so brilliant with tears that he meant to look away. Too bad instant paralysis had shut down any possibility of movement.
    Deep in his chest, his heart began to thud.
    Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice the effect she had on him. She raised her empty flute up to eye level. “I’m out of champagne.”
    “Someone could probably round up another bottle for you, you know. No need to cry.”
    Another fleeting laugh did crazy things to his pulse.
    “I don’t think I need any more tonight. I’m not a pretty drunk.”
    He’d have to take her word for it because she sure as hell was pretty. He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
    He hesitated, undecided.
    That was it, wasn’t it? He’d stumbled onto a crying woman and made a joke. She’d laughed. Mission accomplished, right? He’d done his random act of kindness for the day. The end.
    Well, it wasn’t quite the end, but it needed to be.
    He was attracted to her, yeah, but a) she was upset and vulnerable; and b) it went without saying that a woman this fine was spoken for.
    Bottom line? He should leave.
    But…he couldn’t leave.
    They stared at each other.
    “Do you…want to talk about it?” he asked after a minute.
    A shadow crossed her expression. She blinked back the last of her tears, and the unexpected intimacy of the last minute or so disappeared with them, leaving two strangers who didn’t know anything about each other and probably never would.
    “No,” she said. Was there a trace of reluctance in her voice, or did he imagine it? “Thanks.”
    “Suit yourself,” he said again, and he knew he wasn’t imagining the stab of disappointment he felt. This time, he actually turned to go, which was progress. “Have a good night.”
    “Unless—”
    He wheeled back around, his entire body on alert even before the whole word was out of her mouth. “Unless?”
    “Unless you’re good with advice.”
    Honesty forced him to shake his head and warn her away. “The best advice I can give you is that you should ignore my advice.”
    She grinned again. He stared again. He couldn’t help it.
    It was her eyes, he thought, transfixed.
    There was something extraordinary about her eyes.
    And then her grin faded, leaving only a woman with a problem and him with broad shoulders that didn’t get much of a workout these days.
    “You could try me, though. I help people every now and then. Usually by accident, but still.”
    She hesitated. He waited, breath held, because this moment felt important even if he couldn’t identify why. He was afraid that anything he did, any wrong move, could tip things in the wrong direction, which was any direction that took