Warner's POV
Warner pushed himself off the wall as Arlene's bedroom door opened, ready to escort her downstairs. The moment she stepped out wearing that fitted black dress, he froze completely.
This wasn't like him. Warner Lorenzo never lost his composure. Nothing rattled him, yet this woman was systematically dismantling every defense he'd built.
The dress was deceptively simple. Long sleeves hugged her arms while the fabric molded perfectly to every curve from her shoulders down to her calves. When she turned to close the door behind her, Warner's breath caught. The back was completely open, revealing an expanse of smooth, bronzed skin from her shoulders to her waist.
