With a smoothness that startled her, Jack slid one arm around her waist, took her free hand in his and pulled her toward him. "Dancing works for me."

"Wait-" The air rushed out of her when she came up against his big, warm, hard body. He felt good, and that was before he began to sway in perfect time to the music. She stared at him. "You know how to do this?"

In the dark, his smile flashed white. "Why the surprise?"

Because athletes, famous ones, were usually good at only one thing-their sport. But he had rhythm, good rhythm, and moves that made her mind wander into areas she hadn't expected to go this evening.

"What's the matter?" he asked when she stood there in his arms, stiff and unmoving.

What was the matter? Nothing, except that she felt like an idiot. For all her wild days in her crazy youth, she'd never really gotten comfortable with this elementary skill. She'd never wanted to. But she had a gorgeous man holding her in his arms, his entire attention focused on her as they tried to forget the world around them, and she really did want to help him forget. In any other way except this.

He dipped his head down a little, ran his jaw over hers. "Sam?"

She could sense the firmness of his body. She could even feel his heart beating, strong and steady, and she stared up at him, one arm around his neck, her other hand entangled in his, absorbing the strength of his fingers at the small of her back, the pressure of his hips swaying gently against hers. Her body reacted, hormones revved, bones melted…

How did a man who palmed a basketball for a living get to be so sensual?

"Sam? You still with me?"

"It's just that dancing seems so… clichéd."

"Clichéd," he repeated. "Dancing on a dance floor is clichéd?"

"Yes. I'm sure we could find something else to do." Anything…

"Like…?"

"Um, like…" She searched her brain, feeling a little disoriented by the pulsating lights from the disco balls. "I don't know. You think of something."

"No, I think you'd better." His eyes were deep and dark, his hands gentle on her, and also, whether he intended it not, unbearably erotic. "Because suddenly, with you looking at me like that, I can't seem to think of anything appropriate."

Well, neither could she! In fact, a bunch of inappropriate thoughts kept bouncing through her head, and her body slid even closer to his.

Now what? She knew what her body would like, and her hand glided over his chest, her fingers curling into him.

"Sam-"

The lights went down even more, so that all they could see were the silhouette of the people dancing around them. Perfect camouflage. Sliding her hands into the hair at the nape of Jack's neck, she tugged his head down closer, and planted her lips on his.

The sexy little surprised murmur he made echoed through her, tingling her nerve endings, over-sensitizing them, and she wound her arms tighter around his neck as her eyes drifted shut.

Technically, she should have shut her eyes before then, but she'd waited to make sure he was okay with the direction in which she'd just taken the evening.

Given the way he slanted his head for a better angle, while hauling her up against him even closer, he was good with the new direction-quite good.

Kissing a man for the first time was always an experience, an adventure-not unlike the story of Goldilocks. Would he use too much tongue, not enough tongue or just the right amount? But Jack Scandal Knight kissed juuuusssst right.

And he didn't pull away, not even when they were both breathless. He had one hand on her hip, the other on her spine, fingers spread wide, and when she slid her hands down to his shoulders, sinking into his tough, hard muscle, he let out another groan, low in his throat.

At the sound, something came over her on that dark dance floor. Lust, yes, but this felt different. It gripped her and held on like a bulldog; she couldn't bear to back away, not even to come up for air. She simply dragged her mouth over his jaw, and let out a little whimper when he did the same. Her fingers tightened on his hair, tugging just a little, while her hips danced to his, and he let out another low groan.

"Not fair," he managed.

"Why?"

"I'm not going to be able to walk off this dance floor for a while."

Suddenly, she didn't want to move, either, and she arched against him, nearly seeing double when his thigh rubbed against hers.

With a glance around, making sure that no one was paying them any attention, he cupped her face. "Sam… what are you doing to me?"

Hopefully driving him half as wild as he was driving her. Avoiding a dance had become the last thing on her mind. "I should mention…" She sank her teeth into his lobe, thrilling to the sound that dragged from him. "It's been a little too long for me. I'm liking this way too much."

"Don't tell me that." One hand skimmed up her back, the other was on her hip. His thumb glided over her belly, upward, stroking, tracing her last rib, barely skimmed over the very bottom curve of her breast.

All the while, his gaze held hers, conveying hunger, passion, desire… more heady than the champagne she'd sipped. She let out a shuddery breath, her bones long dissolved away.

Then he took another sweep with his thumb, not quite touching her nipple, and she had to concentrate on breathing.

"Sam." His voice was low, hoarse.

Sinking her fingers into his hair again, she brought his mouth back to hers, and their moans commingled, becoming a part of the crazy, wild kiss.

Then the song ended, and the lights came up slightly as the band leader started talking about their next set.

Jack's eyes were sleepy and very sexy when they opened on Sam's. "What else will you do to keep from dancing?"

"Um… that was about it." At least that she was willing to admit.

His eyes flitted down to the front of her dress, where her hard-as-rock nipples were pouting against the black material, begging for more attention, and he let out a low groan that pulled at them even more.

It was getting crowded, with people dancing in earnest now the music had started again. Everyone looked as if they knew exactly what they were doing as they gyrated and swayed on the floor.

Oh boy. Sam tugged on Jack's hair again and put her mouth back on his. With a soft, silky laugh, he obliged her for a long moment, until finally, dizzy, dazed with lust, she lifted her head for air.

"Are you really going to let me keep kissing you to avoid dancing?"

He was breathing heavily, too. "Oh, yeah."

4

Sam blew out a breath and looked at Jack. "Okay, truth," she told him. "I don't dance. In fact, I stink at it."

"But we were just doing it."

"That was slow dancing. And you did all the work."

He couldn't take his eyes off the woman who'd just rocked his world with a flash of both heaven and hell in one kiss-heaven, because she'd been soft and delicious; hell, because he suspected that was all he was going to get. How could a woman so self-possessed, so naturally sensual, not dance? "Come on, really?"

"Really."

He thought about that while the feel of her body against his sank into his brain. Her nipples were still hard, her arms tight around his neck, and she wasn't the only one affected. He wanted her with a surprising hunger. But when he had her-please God, he'd have her-it would be in a much more private location than this.

The next best thing to that would be another nice, long slow dance where she could writhe and arch against him, and he'd close his eyes and inhale her. But this song wasn't slow. "I'll help you."

"Jack-"

"Come on," he coaxed, moving to the beat. "It's not that difficult. First, you feel. Feel me, feel the music-hey, you have to at least try. Hang on, this song is ending- Oh, you lucked out," he said as the band ended the fast upbeat number and launched into an achingly slow love song. He pulled her just a little bit closer. "Mmmm, nice." His lips brushed against her ear, and suddenly it took all the willpower he had not to start kissing her again. "Better," he whispered, when she softened against him.

After a few moments, she let out along, slightly shaky sigh. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as an entirely different kind of tension gripped them. Swaying with him, eyes closed, he felt her smile against his shirt.

"I can't believe I'm liking this evening," she said.

"Me, too."

"A small part of me really was banking on you having that potbelly or bad breath, something awful."

"Sorry to disappoint you." He pulled back and looked into her eyes. "I'm also sorry about the whole sneaking in here thing."

"Don't be." She shot him a wry smile. "Or then I'd have to be sorry about kissing you to avoid dancing."

"You didn't kiss me just to avoid dancing."

She stared at him. "No," she finally whispered. "I didn't."

"And you didn't let me touch you just to avoid dancing, either."

Another slow shake of her head. "No. I wanted both."

His gaze dropped to her mouth. Her fingers played at the back of his neck, urging him closer, then closer still. It was all the encouragement he needed, and he dipped his head and kissed her. It sent hot licks of desire skittering down his spine. Locked in her arms, mouth against mouth, it was somehow easy to forget the press, the people, his sister, everything, lost as he was in the taste and feel of her.

She pulled away first, looking as shell-shocked as him. They made a couple of more turns on the dance floor, silent. Heather was out there with her date, and she waved at them.

"Did I mention I'm sorry about her, too?" Jack asked.