The glass door opened up and the man stepped out into the spring morning. His coffee-brown hair shone in the bits of sunlight that filtered through the oak tree nearby, and his tanned cheeks lifted with a bright smile. “You must be Adam.” He thrust his hand out to my brother. “I’m Ben Crawford. Welcome to Winterhaven.”
“Great,” Adam said, shaking the man’s hand. “Any chance somebody can help with the bags?”
The man looked past Adam to me. I can’t even begin to describe my reaction. I’d been around Hollywood celebrities on a regular basis for over fifteen years; pretty boys and product-over-effused metrosexuals didn’t put a blip on my hormones’ radar. So why was it when I saw Ben Crawford, my mind’s eye framed him like he was all my lens could see? He was good looking by anyone’s standards, but I’d never laid eyes on anyone so magnetic. Truth be told, I knew my brother was considered handsome in most circles, but for reasons entirely intangible, compared to this guy, Adam should’ve been a distant second for that Hottest Man Alive cover spread.