He reminded her of the fictional character, Jane Eyre’s cousin, St. John Rivers (“SIN-jun”)—cold, reserved although very handsome with his blond hair, blue eyes and classic features. He would make a rather nice marble statue in a Greek museum. She wondered if he were capable of feeling or expressing any passion. At the moment, the idea seemed ridiculous. Sometimes, he was as frosty as the weather outside.
He was kind, though. When she was stranded on the highway, in the pouring rain, he had offered her a lift and on the way to the train station, he offered her a job after learning that she had been recently laid-off.
“Makayla.” His voice interrupted her thoughts now and she turned around. “I’ve been calling you but you seemed miles away.”
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, touching his arm. When he stiffened and glanced down at her hand, she immediately removed it and turned away, mortified.
He watched her and wondered if she had any idea of how badly he wanted to kiss her.