QUOTE : Damn, she was pretty. Her dark hair was still damp, hanging below her shoulders in wet tendrils. She wore no makeup, her face perfect without it. She’d put on a pair of gray leggings and a white angora sweater that clung a bit too nicely to her curves. Even standing over a pot of chili, he could smell the clean scent of her shampoo. Back off, West, you old goat! She was young enough to be his daughter, for God’s sake. She couldn’t be much older than Nate—late thirties, maybe early forties—and he was sixty-three. His mind had no business heading off in that direction, even if she had felt mighty sweet in his arms when he’d carried her.