““Someone pointed and his gaze swiveled to her, pinpointing her on the spot as neatly and securely as if he’d lassoed and roped her to it. And he could have if he’d wanted to, of that she had no doubt. Some dizzying part of her rapidly spinning brain figured he probably couldn’t get his bullwhip through airport security. Another part acknowledged that the past year she’d spent convincing herself he was just a man, like any other man, not some larger-than-life action hero she’d foolishly romanticized into someone bigger, bolder, and even more brash than she’d recalled him to be, had been a complete waste of time. Because he was all of that, more than that. And he was here. Right here. In Blueberry Cove, Maine.””
