She was a lot smaller, and younger than he’d anticipated. And painfully beautiful.
Heart-shaped face, clear—perceptive—green eyes, and an abundance of freckles; thick red hair rolled and caged in black netting at her nape. Set free, would it fall straight, in silken waves, or in wild Medusa-like curls?
Why the hell did it matter?
Flexing his fingers to dispel the strange urge to release her hair from its bindings and watch it tumble like a crimson waterfall over the ebony shoulders of her dress, and then sift his fingers through it, Joe tipped his head in the approximation of a welcoming nod.
“Mrs. Sweeney. I’m Joe Banner.”