Those mesmerizing eyes studied her intently. “Real beauty speaks for itself.”
Her cheeks heated at the unexpected compliment. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“Just stating the obvious.”
Embarrassed, Carly acknowledged his words with a nod. She felt a connection with this stranger, one that defied logic. With long sandy hair streaked by the sun and the sexy way he rocked on the heels of worn hiking boots, he oozed wildness and danger, raw masculinity and cocky confidence. She brushed at her bangs with trembling hands. She preferred tame and safe. This man was anything but.
“So, what attracts you?” he asked. His gaze lingered on her an instant too long before darting to the jewel-filled window.
You do. The unbidden thought rocketed through her brain. “Those,” she said in a hoarse croak. She pointed to the simple bands with a none too steady hand.
“Nice,” he murmured in agreement. “So have we discovered what kind of woman prefers plain gold to diamonds?” His rich laugh hung in the air.
The sound warmed her, even as an unexpected chill dashed over her skin. She glanced up at the blue sky. A single puff of cloud covered the sun. Carly knew with complete certainty that this man, and not a passing feat of nature, caused her tremors and distinct sense of unease.
“Someone with more sense than to stand on a street corner in Manhattan and talk to a perfect stranger,” she murmured. “Excuse me.” She pivoted on her heel, intending to head inside the store, where safety in numbers awaited her.
“Carly, wait.”
She froze in midflight, turning back toward that compelling voice. “Who are you?” she asked warily.
“Mike Novack, Peter’s brother.” He held a bronzed hand toward her.
She silently cursed her fiancé’s lack of sentiment. The only picture she’d seen of Mike had been as a young boy. Certainly she’d have recalled seeing a current photo of the good-looking man standing before her.
“Brother.” Even as she reached out her hand, dismay and self-loathing rippled through her. Flirting with a stranger while shopping for wedding bands had been bad enough, but flirting with Peter’s errant brother showed a decided lack of judgment.
The type of judgment she’d expect from her father, not from herself.
“Last time I checked,” Mike said.
His strong hand grasped hers and she lost any sense of equilibrium she might have felt. His calloused fingers wrapped around her skin, enclosing her hand in warmth.
Heat traveled from her fingers, up her arm and into her breasts before settling in the pit of her stomach. Through sheer force of will, she tried to ignore the new and unnerving sensations.
She wrenched her hand free from Mike’s grasp and focused all her attention on the plate-glass window. Without the sun’s rays, the rings had lost much of their sparkle and allure. She wrapped her arms across her chest in a futile attempt to warm herself inside and out.
“Carly?”
She grit her teeth against the sound of concern in his deep voice. “Obviously you’ve seen my picture.”
Mike smiled. “The one on Peter’s desk.”
“I wish I could say the same of you.”
“I’m the photographer in the family, not Pete.”
“So I’ve heard. Are you also the family flirt?”
His eyes narrowed in confusion. “I know I’ve been out of the country for a while, but when did casual conversation become slang for come-on?”
She blew her bangs out of her eyes with a hard puff of air. “Okay, I overreacted.” To a man who made her heart race and her palms sweat. As far as she was concerned, she’d definitely underreacted.
She really wanted to run and hide from Mike and from herself. “Truce?” she asked, holding out her hand. To prove she could handle physical contact, not because she craved the sensations his warm touch aroused.
“Truce.” Mike grasped and released her hand in a quick movement. Not because he couldn’t handle touching her soft skin, but because his mere presence had obviously left her shaken. He had no idea why.
“Where is Peter?” Carly asked.