"Very nice to meet you, Victor," the woman said as she placed her hand in his. "I'm Chloe." There was a warmth that radiated from him; heat that was both comfortable and comforting and not at all oppressive like the rays of the sun on a beautiful spring day. Her dainty fingers, perfectly manicured ghosted over his palm and wrist, feather light before she gave him a firm handshake.
"Your accent's not right for these parts. Where are you from?" America, Chloe could guess. Or maybe Canadian. No, no Canadian she'd ever met had a tan like that. Definitely American, though he didn't seem like any of the corn-fed, horse-riding boys she'd grown up with.