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  Someone austere and aloof.

  Instead, Joy Reed had openly gazed at him while her face and throat flushed pink.

  Focus, he told himself. After far too long taking care of others, this was his turn and he wouldn’t get derailed by wet clothes clinging to a sweet body, or bold, mesmerizing eyes.

  With that in mind, Royce strode to the door and called back, “You okay in there?”

  Her head poked out, not from the bathroom but from his utility room. “Yes, sorry. You said I could use the dryer, so...” She smoothed back a long hank of still-damp hair.

  Royce realized he was doing it again, allowing his brain to go down paths it shouldn’t. At least this time he had good reason for staring.

  She stood there in the logo T-shirt, knotted at the side so it’d fit her waist, with the beach towel tied like a toga skirt around her. The colors clashed, but that was the least of the fashion disasters.

  Yet somehow, on her, the hodgepodge outfit looked like a trendy statement.

  When she laced her fingers together and smiled, he felt it like a kick. Luckily, a kick was just what he needed to get back on track.

  Royce cleared his throat. “I pulled some chairs up to the counter for us.” The building had a small breakroom, but it felt too isolated for this meeting.

  He gestured for her to precede him, then wished he hadn’t as she moved past, slim legs parting the overlap of the towel, giving him a glimpse of calf and thigh.

  Calf and thigh? he repeated to his libido. This isn’t the 1700s. A man could see legs—gorgeous legs, not-so-gorgeous legs, young legs and old legs, plus a whole lot more—any damn time he wanted. Just because they were her legs didn’t make them special.

  Sure, the past year had been...rough. No sex, no dating. Nothing but all-consuming responsibility, focused around sickness, culminating in the inevitable end of life.

  But legs?

  Royce followed her, doing his utmost to keep his gaze on the back of her head and not anywhere else.

  Being here in Woodbine, rebuilding the drive-in to what it could be, was his turn and he wouldn’t let pretty green eyes and shapely legs muddle his plans.

  Keeping that in mind, Royce got down to the task of building a business relationship, and absolutely, one hundred percent, nothing else.

  ***

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  Sisters Of Summer’s End

  by New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster!

  Copyright © 2019 by Lori Foster

  ISBN-13: 9781488053597

  Boone

  Copyright © 2019 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  The publisher acknowledges the copyright holder of the individual works as follows:

  Boone

  Copyright © 2019 by Lori Foster

  Tucker

  Copyright © 2018 by Lori Foster

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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