The Single Dad (The Dalton Brothers 3)

“No one’s ever commented on that before.”

I took a drink even though I didn’t need it. “It matches you—I mean, it fits your face, your …” I couldn’t think of what I wanted to say. Nothing was coming to me. I didn’t even feel like I was breathing. “Exterior.”

The corner of his lips lifted, a half-smile so devilishly attractive. “Exterior, huh?”

“If power had a sound, it’s you.”

He was sitting between both tables but chose to lean his elbow on the one closest to me. “My voice isn’t where I hold my power, Sydney. At least, not in my personal life. But I’ll tell you, it wasn’t a bad guess.”

My brain was spiraling.

My legs were already feeling weak.

“No?” I swallowed. “Then, where?”

He licked across his bottom lip and said, “Here.”

His mouth.

Because of the things he could do with it. The way he could use it to make a woman feel.

I’m dying.

“And here,” he said, holding his hands on the table.

I’d noticed his fingers long before this, and I didn’t doubt their strength.

Their talent.

Their ability.

“A refill,” one of the guys said to Ford, breaking our contact, placing a drink in one of his hands.

“Thanks, buddy,” Ford replied.

I almost gasped when his eyes found mine again, the feeling so overwhelming.

“Are you sure you don’t want another one?”

I shook my head. “I’m sure.” My martini was still half-full, and I brought it up to my lips. “It’s already working. I’m not tired anymore.”

In fact, I couldn’t feel anything.

Except him.

“That didn’t take much to get over your jet lag.”

I huffed out a mouthful of air, not knowing how to say he’d made it disappear. But I had to say something, so I glanced around the bar. “It must be the energy in here.”

“Or it’s me.”

I felt my eyes go wide as they connected with his.

He reached forward, and I held in my breath, expecting his hand to land on me but it didn’t; it just tugged on the hair that was stuck to my lip, moving it out of my face.

“What’s your last name, Sydney?”

“My … last name?”

He smiled. “I’ve now bought you a drink, and I’ve shown you the sources of my power.” He winked. “It seems only fair that I know a little more about you.”

“Summers.”

“Sydney Summers,” he said, his tone the grittiest it had been so far. “I like that.” He took a sip of his new drink, sucking one of the ice cubes into his mouth. “I’m Ford Dalton.”

“Ford Dalton,” I repeated. “That’s like the perfect celebrity name.”

“No interest in being one of those.” He paused. “I like right where I am at.”

“In life or …”

“Right now.”

Oh.

Gabby was right.

This man was dominant.

I let his response simmer, my chest pounding, my hands steamy even though they were wrapped around the chilly martini glass.

“You know how I ended up here tonight.” I glanced behind him at his friends. “What’s your story?”

He shrugged. “The guys were going out, and I was craving a drink.”

I would have needed the break and looked around the bar. Not Ford. He stayed glued to me.

“This is one of our favorite spots. The rest … you’ve witnessed.”

Because he’d spent that time with me.

First at the bar.

Now here.