Or a lawyer. Or a park ranger. Or… Colleen chuckled. She had her first date at the age of fifteen. Eleven years later, the variety of her suitors was impressive for a small-town girl. Men liked her. And she liked men. She enjoyed the conversation. Sometimes, if the chemistry were right, she enjoyed the sex. The full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door didn't lie. Colleen looked good. She was a woman comfortable in her skin—flaws and all. Did that mean she wouldn't have changed something if the genetics gods had given her a menu of options? Sure. Who wouldn't? But she liked her body. It was strong and resilient. It allowed her to work long hours without breaking down, and her legs looked damn fine in a skirt. Doing a final twirl, Colleen gave herself an approving nod. She didn't dress up often—unless her date sprang for a night in Phoenix. However, she enjoyed putting on the ritz. Not to impress Dalton, but herself. He had traveled the world.
