Her chestnut hair was pulled into a demure bun, except for a fringe of playful bang under which emerald eyes sparkled. Her nose was petite but had character; her smile—which it seemed quite impossible to imagine as insincere—might have plunged Penny Parker into a bottomless pit of insecurity about hers.

This was a lady who had charms and knew what to do with them. Some might have declared her red skirt suit gaudy, but he thought it looked just terrific.

She was...stunning.

She was competent too. When their attackers had emerged from the shadows, he'd done a number on his hand punching the one who lunged at her. He soon realized she didn't require his assistance. In fact, the last thing he'd seen before losing consciousness was her beating the everliving snot out of one of the thugs with a single delicately heeled foot.

By all accounts, he seemed to have happened upon the perfect female.

But when he came to and found that she had quite expertly bound his injured hand using her hose as pre-wrap and his duct tape for the outer bandage, he knew this was one woman he could never marry.