Suddenly I’m no longer aware of the people around us, just the feel and the warmth and the scent of Daniel, and the way he’s holding me near to him.

Botox is as common as seagulls in Sarasota, but most of the women I know who use the dermatologist’s little helper still have full range of expression. Except squinting, of course.

God, there’s nothing sexier than a nice strong jawline and a movie-star-quality chin dimple. It’s my own personal kryptonite.—SINGLE-MINDED

He stops rocking and looks into my eyes. We’re inches apart and I’m mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes. A girl could drown in those eyes. And it wouldn’t be the worst way to go.

But you’ll never get a new ending if you keep starting with the same tired beginning.

Daniel reaches out and grabs my hand to steady me. His skin is warm and soft, and holding his hand sends an electric sensation up my right arm. He holds my hand firmly until I regain my balance, which takes me a heartbeat longer than it should have.“Thanks for keeping me from falling,” I say. He smiles warmly. “Sometimes we just can’t stop ourselves from falling, cher.

I’m mesmerized by the way he speaks—New Orleans is pronounced N’awlins. When he says backyard, it’s backyaaad. It’s the kind of voice that makes you feel instantly at home, like you’re a close friend or part of the inner circle.—SINGLE-MINDED

He smiles, his palpable charisma pulling me in like low tide. Or riptide.

He gently takes the lead, and I trail behind him up the narrow spiral stairway at the back of the kitchen. His hand is warm, and holding it feels like the easiest thing in the world. Too easy. I’m going to get myself in trouble.

I’m probably getting too familiar with him, but there’s something about him that makes me feel like I would tell him anything. He asks these incredibly direct questions, things that some of my closest friends have never even thought to ask, and I’m inexplicably compelled to share all these deeply personal thoughts. He’s like human Xanax or something.