He had the face of a fallen angel, with piercing eyes so dark brown they looked black, chiseled cheekbones in a lean, handsome face with strong, defined features and a square jaw. His firm mouth was made for kissing, the lower lip a little fuller than the top. His dark hair was cropped close to his head, his beard neatly trimmed to frame that firm mouth, to trace that jaw.
His eyes couldn't possibly be that piercing in real life. He had a dash of daring, of mischief, and promise in those twinkling eyes, while a sexy come-hither grin played around his lips.
It was too easy to dream of sucking on that mouth, nibbling on that lush lower lip.
At the corner of it was the hint of a dimple.
He was a fire sign, as was she, promising passion, energy. Both of which she needed. While she wasn't sure how much she believed in any of that, she was as superstitious as any of her colleagues. Even the ones who swore they weren't superstitious.
And then there was his body.
In the picture he stood with his shirt open to reveal an impressive set of pecs and a lean, ridged six-pack that made her brain just seize up and freeze. She thought she caught just the hint of a tattoo on a muscled arm, the edges barely hidden beneath a short sleeve. What would it be like to touch that sculpted body, to run her fingers over those solid muscles, to have those long legs in those tight jeans wrap around her?
Damn, just the thought of touching him made her hot and wet.
"Special Delivery" was the name he'd given his dating page.