Intimacy was vulnerability. And vulnerable was something Grimsley would never be. He was tall; she was tiny. He was neat, tidy, orderly; she was... not. His life was focus without deviation and relentlessly managed by the ticking of his pocket watch; she was chaos, from the curls of her unruly hair to her little bare feet, and if she got distracted and walked into him one more time, by God, he was going to bend her over the first sturdy piece of furniture he saw. For a man who shunned intimacy, getting Eden into his arms was fast becoming all he could think about. They say opposites attract. When it came to Eden, attract was far too tame a word...