Can a tattoo artist keep his hands steady when the girl of his dreams walks in the door?
Grant: I hadn’t realized there had been a Leah-shaped hole in my life. I needed her before I knew her. I wanted her before I even tasted her. Magic eyes that twinkle with mischief. Soft, milky curves. And a mind as sharp as my needles. I just had to find a way to show her that I fit into her life, too.
Leah: I’m not getting a tattoo. Yet I do need something new and different. Maybe like Grant. The sweet artist is gorgeous, and the thought of him doing what his hungry stare promises leaves me twitching. Sure, he’s covered in ink and his muscles ripple when he moves, but he’s as kind as he is tough. But I’m dreaming. There’s no way a girl like me could hold his interest. Is there? Call me crazy, but I think he’s looking at me like he’s already in love.