A warm body slid onto the hard, wooden pew next to Brenna Alten. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the sharp smell of autumn leaves and the spicy musk of warm man. Caleb Mahingan. She’d recognize that voice and scent anywhere, and they still sent desire fluttering through her middle. So much for outgrowing that particular reaction. She hadn’t seen him in nearly three years, but apparently, the sound of his deep, gravelly voice and masculine rumble still caused a screaming case of insta-lust. In church, no less. He pulled her into his embrace, tugging her firmly against his chest. She wrapped her arms around him, returning his hug. “Hey,” she said, pulling back slightly. Not the brightest of replies, but really, it was all she could come up with when she looked at him. She wasn’t sure it was possible, but he was even more gorgeous than she’d remembered. Keeping up with him via email and phone calls hadn’t prepared her at all to see him in person again. He stared at her, curiosity and surprise clear on his face.
