"Who is that?" Ophelia Wescott asked her new neighbor as they finished carrying in the last few boxes of Ophelia's belongings into the starter home she'd just purchased.

"Who?" the neighbor in question, Miranda Oakland, asked with a grunt as she set the box she'd been hauling down on the living room floor. Miranda was older than Ophelia, close to forty—five, as opposed to Ophelia, who was twenty—four, but Miranda was fun and energetic, and the age difference didn't even seem to exist between them. Ophelia had taken to her instantly when she'd introduced herself a few hours ago after the moving van had pulled into the driveway.

Ophelia approached the wide window in her living room and pointed to the house on her left. "That. Who is that?"

There, mowing the lawn, was the most attractive man Ophelia had ever seen. He was at least six foot three, with dark hair the color of chocolate and a body that made a woman's thighs clench.

Miranda shadowed her at the window, and when she saw where Ophelia was pointing, she chuckled.

"Oh. That, my dear, is Colt Henshaw." Miranda sighed. "Isn't he gorgeous? Wait until you see those whiskey colored hazel eyes of his."

Ophelia leaned against the window as Colt stopped pushing the lawnmower and pulled his shirt up to wipe the sweat away from his face. The simple action showed the sharp vee of his abdominal muscles as they disappeared beneath his black basketball shorts. There wasn't an ounce of fat on Colt, as far as Ophelia could tell.

Miranda pretended to fan her face. "He has that effect on all of us. But don't expect him to notice you. It's not personal. He keeps to himself. Robert talked to him at one of the homeowners' meetings when he first moved here two years ago. He's a former Navy SEAL, I think."

"Really?"

"According to my husband, anyway."

Ophelia sighed. A Navy SEAL, just like the heroes in those romance novels she read. Of course, reality was nothing like those books. It was still fun to dream, though.

"Come on," Miranda said. "Let's get the rest of the boxes from your porch so you can send the movers home early."

"Thanks." Ophelia appreciated her new friend's help. She was new to Havensport and still a little tight on money. Sending the movers home early would save her a few bucks. Thankfully, she would be starting her new job tomorrow. Even though it would be a Sunday, she liked the work and didn't mind the unique schedule of working Sunday to Thursday.

"So, what's your job again?" Miranda asked as they each grabbed a box and headed back inside.

"I'm an online stylist. I select outfits, clothes, shoes, and accessories for clients based on their fashion profile, and then my company mails a box to them with the items I've chosen. They try the items on and buy what they like."

"Hmm, what will they think of next?" Miranda smiled at her, and then Ophelia quickly met the movers at the door as they carried in the last piece of furniture. While she was standing outside and writing a check for the movers, she caught a glimpse of Colt, who'd finished mowing and was now carrying an assortment of gardening tools. He halted at the invisible line between their two yards and knelt by a flower bed. Now she had a better chance to see his face. He had one of those masculine square jaws, outlined by a short beard. She'd never seen the appeal of a beard before, but on Colt? It was hot. A little too hot.

"You're as cute as a button, honey, but I promise you, that man isn't looking for anyone or anything. Best not to get your hopes up."

Ophelia sighed and turned away from the window. Miranda was right. Colt was a little too sexy, and she'd never had much luck with overly attractive guys anyway. She was only five foot two and a bit too much on the curvy side. Her last boyfriend had dumped her for a tall, leggy blonde. As a result, she'd decided to move—she wanted a fresh start in a new city. So she'd packed up her life and used her savings to buy this house. She wanted no regrets, and that included being shot down by her beyond hot, emotionally unavailable next—door neighbor.

Colt always knew when he was being watched. After serving fourteen years in the navy, he'd never lost that sixth sense of heightened awareness. He sat back on his knees by his front flower beds to pull weeds from the red azaleas in front of his house and shot a covert glance at the house to his right. The subtlety of this move would have made his former commanding officer proud.

The moving truck was pulling away, and his new neighbor was watching him through the large front window of her house. She had also watched him mow the lawn. He was used to the women in the neighborhood eyeing him anytime he was outdoors.

Last summer he'd been digging holes to plant tulip bulbs when two of the more aggressive divorcées in the neighborhood had actually parked folding chairs across the street, sipping margaritas as they ogled his ass like he was part of the Magic Mike crew in Vegas. He had allowed it, but he sure as hell hadn't liked it. He liked his privacy. He liked being left the hell alone.

Colt had a strange sense that his new neighbor was going to change everything. He had caught a glimpse of her, and she was a sweet young thing with big dark eyes and hair as black as a raven's wing. Her skin was a creamy pale like alabaster. He sure as hell didn't want to get interested in her. He was done with that sort of thing. He'd been burned, and he wasn't about to let this sweetheart next door get anywhere near him. She looked like she carried a pocketful of matches that just might set him ablaze.

He finished up his weeding and headed inside. His German shepherd, Noah, was watching him with dark, serious eyes from his favorite perch on the couch backed up against the window facing the street. At the sight of Colt, Noah's tongue lolled out, making him look like he was smiling. The dog had been trained to sniff out explosives, and after three tours of duty in Iraq, Noah had been allowed to retire. Colt had signed up to adopt the dog, and the two of them had stuck together. Given his rocky upbringing, Colt rarely spoke to his parents, and he had no siblings. Noah was the closest thing he had to family now.

Colt took a quick shower and changed into jeans and a T—shirt. Noah was waiting for him at the back door to the garage. "You want to go see the boys?" he asked as he retrieved Noah's leash.

The dog sat patiently, tail thumping as Colt leashed him up and then they got in his truck. He drove through the tiny main street of Havensport toward the VA center, where Noah worked on the weekends.