by Zoe Dawson
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Three weeks had passed since the incident in the hallway with Owen McKay, and Callie was still telling herself she was relieved that he hadn’t spoken to her or tried to ask her out. She knew her mind was strong, but her flesh was definitely still weak, even without renewed temptation.
But today when she got home from work, she found a note from Owen on her door. It said simply, “I need to talk to you.”
Callie left Jack safely locked in the loft and walked across the hall to knock on Owen’s door, determinedly ignoring the shiver of anticipation that coursed through her.
It seemed an eternity passed before he opened the door, but it was worth the wait. This time he was wearing only a pair of soft, faded jeans slung low on his hips, and nothing else. His features were just as gorgeous as she remembered, but his lean jaw was clenched tight. His dark hair was a wet, disheveled, enticing mess around his head, making it clear that he’d only just ruffled it with a towel after stepping out of the shower. He looked so sinfully sexy he literally took her breath away. The dreams and fantasies of Owen that she’d spun over the past three weeks paled in comparison to the real thing.
He folded his arms across his broad, bare chest and leaned against the doorframe, his entire demeanor tense.
“We have a situation here.”
“A situation?” Callie repeated, her heart starting to beat faster. Oh, God. Was he going to ask her out?
“Jack knocked Jill up.”
Her expectations went thump. “Whaaaaat?”
“Jill’s going to have puppies, and Jack’s the only possible father.”
