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Amanda’s world shrank to just the two of them. He pressed his body against her side, one arm along the back of the booth behind her head. Warmth seeped into her, melting every muscle.
He’d always been tall, but the wide shoulders next to her belonged to a man, not the teenager who’d broken her heart. His dark hair framed his chiseled face, which could have been carved by Michelangelo and he had a hint of a five o’clock shadow. His deep dark blue eyes soaked up every inch of Amanda’s body.