"Because she's overprotective? I think it's sweet."

"She's worried someone's going to take advantage of me, if you can imagine that happening."

"Only if you were willing," Sam said.

He laughed. "Willing… Do you want to take advantage of me, Sam?"

Oh, yeah, Sam did want to do just that. Now, please. But the truth was, she didn't know him well enough to sleep with him yet. "I haven't decided," she said as honestly as she could.

Eyes still on hers, his smile became a little subdued and he nodded slowly. "I wouldn't want to rush that decision."

Her body tightened, yearned. "Thank you," she said so politely he grinned broadly. The music changed again, and so did Jack's tempo. Faster and faster, he whirled her around the floor with dizzying speed.

"Where did you learn to do that?" she asked breathlessly when the song ended.

"My sister. In high school, if she couldn't get a date, she made me be her partner."

"Made you?"

"She spied on me for ammo, which she'd detail in a diary she kept locked up to use as blackmail when necessary. And, believe me, she found it necessary a lot. God, she loved holding stuff over my head."

"That sounds…" Sam searched for a word. "Horrible."

"Spoken like a woman who has no siblings?" he guessed.

"Not a one."

"How about your parents? Didn't you ever dance with them?"

She hesitated, never knowing what to say. She hated pity, and talking about her past always evoked that in others. Luckily, another couple bumped into them. The woman dripped diamonds and the man with her wore a dopey, infatuated grin. "Jack Knight," he said reverently. "Miss you, man."

"Thanks," Jack said.

"I must have an autograph for my son," the woman said. "After the dance?"

"No problem."

"I noticed you're not entirely a social pariah," Sam said when they were alone again-or as alone as they could get on a crowded dance floor.

"Nah, it's only the people who want something that bug me."

"That couple wanted something. Your autograph."

"Yeah, but an autograph, that's easy to give. It's when they want a piece of your soul that you've got to watch out. So," he said lightly, changing the subject on her like a champ. "Your parents. They never twirled you around the kitchen floor?"

Her father had been a professor at Pepperdine University, her mother an administrator in the offices there. They'd loved her, but they'd been incredibly devoted to their work, disciplined to long hours, with little time off for such things as dancing in the kitchen. "No twirling around the floor for us, I'm afraid."

"I think everyone should have memories of dancing in their pj's, slipping in their socks on the linoleum with their family."

"Mine weren't the dancing kind."

His easy smile faded. "Past tense?"

"They're both gone now. They have been for a long time."

People never knew what to say when she said that, and subsequently did one of two things-said they were sorry, or awkwardly changed the subject.

Jack did neither. "That's incredibly unfair."

"Yeah."

The song ended. People began to talk. Many looked their way. A few with cameras started walking toward them.

"Oh boy," Jack said.

A surge of protectiveness rose within Sam, which was silly. The guy could take care of himself, and yet she pointed to the long row of tables set up against one wall, piled with lavish amounts of food. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten since breakfast. "Food. People won't want to stare at you if you're eating. Unless… you don't by any chance eat with your mouth open…?"

He laughed. "Not usually."

"Okay, then."

They each took a plate. She eyed the salads and, saving herself for the big guns up ahead, spooned a small amount of fruit salad onto her plate.

"Tell me you're going to eat more than that."

"Oh, I'm going to eat much more." Farther down, she stabbed a nice sized steak, then helped herself to a roll and a huge heap of potatoes.

"Good." He piled his plate high, as well. "I might have had to throw you to the press as bait if you'd stuck with only fruit."

They walked to the least crowded table, which so far held only two women and a man, all three at least seventy years old. The women sipped their drinks and the man sandwiched between them had a very contented look on his face as he ate.

Jack gave them an easy smile. "Hello."

The man returned a full-fledged grin. "I'd call you one lucky SOB for escorting a woman as beautiful as you've got there…" His voice was craggy, as if he'd been smoking for fifty-plus years. "But tonight I'm the lucky SOB because I've got two beautiful dates."

Jack laughed as he held Sam's chair out for her. When he sat, he lifted his water glass to the man. "To having beautiful women at our side."

"I'll drink to that," the man said.

They began to eat. Sam found herself watching Jack. When he caught her at it, he smiled. "What?"

He had such a graceful, smooth way of moving when he danced, ate… everything. It made looking at him very easy on the eyes. "What else do you like besides a woman who eats more than a carrot stick?" she asked softly

When he simply looked at her, she let out a little laugh. "I was… just wondering."

He set down his fork. Reached for her hand. "I like a woman who can come out of the waves and get ready for a date in two minutes."

"Saw that, did you?"

"Yeah." He stroked a thumb over her palm. "I like a woman who can go with the flow, risking the wet grass to help me out without worrying about her shoes. I like a woman who doesn't take down a guy's sister even when she's interfering and deserves it. And I really like a woman willing to try new things, like dancing in front of several hundred people when she hates dancing."

"Well, I didn't risk the grass, you carried me." And she'd loved it, his easy strength, the feel of his hands on her. She took a bite of mashed potatoes that melted in her mouth. "And as for the dancing, you did all the work. I've never felt comfortable dancing."

"You felt comfortable to me."

Yeah, in hindsight, being in his arms had been pretty damn comfortable. Hot, too.

And exciting, very exciting.

He scooped up some fancy-looking noodle salad onto his fork and held it up to her lips.

"Something else new to try this evening?" she murmured, and took the bite into her mouth.

"Nah." His voice was low and husky, his gaze glued to her mouth. "I just love watching you eat."


* * *

After dinner came the auction.

Jack eyed the long roster of prizes at his place setting, knowing that he was coming up on the list. He and Sam had watched the proceedings so far, eating their self-made ice-cream sundaes from the dessert bar. Someone had just won on a two-day trip to Santa Barbara, and then a ski package to Big Bear. Each time the bidding ended, Sam turned to him, her eyes bright with excitement, her hand on his arm, grinning.

"So much money for Heather's charity!" she'd said after one huge round. "Unbelievable."

What was unbelievable was tonight. He'd expected to be bored, but that had been the last thing on his mind… "Sam."

She was watching Heather run the auction. "I like her. I mean, she's pushy but I've been known to be pushy, too, so-"

"Sam."

Laughing, she put down her spoon, licked her lips and turned to him. "Hmm?"

Her eyes were shining, her hair still in that sexy, messy bun that made him want to pull it out and run the strands through his fingers. Unable to help himself, he reached out and ran a finger over her full lower lip, where she'd missed a spot of ice cream.

He brought his finger up to his mouth and sucked on it.

Her eyes darkened and her mouth fell open just a little, as if she was suddenly having trouble breathing.

He certainly was. "I'm up next."

She stared at his mouth. "What?"

"The auction. I donated something, and it's about to come up on the list."

"How sweet. What did you donate?"

"Myself."

Just as he said this, Heather's voice came over the loud speaker. "And now for the finale… a series of private two-hour basketball lessons from one of the greatest players of our time-Jack Knight. We'll start the bidding at two hundred dollars."

Still turned toward him, Sam raised her eyebrows slightly, the only sign she'd heard and digested Heather's words.

"Two fifty," Heather said, acknowledging the man at one of the front tables who had gestured.

Sam grabbed her bidder's paddle. She hadn't bid all evening, and Jack had already given a healthy check, so he hadn't, either.

But now, with her eyes still locked on his, Sam lifted the paddle.

"Two seventy-five," she said.

From her platform, Heather grinned. "I've got two seventy-five, do I hear three hundred?"

"Three hundred," called a man in the back.

Sam's wrist flexed as she tried to lift her paddle again, but Jack laughed and held it down. "Stop," he said.

She stuck out her tongue at him, and he had the insane urge to suck it into his mouth.

"Three fifty," she called out.

The bidding got crazy after that, and Jack gave up holding Sam back, but he worried as he watched her go at it with such glee. "Sam-"

"We're at seven fifty," Heather said excitedly. "Going once-"

"Eight hundred," Sam called out.

"Eight hundred," Heather called, looking impressed. "Going once, twice…" She slammed down her gavel. "Sold, to the lady in black with the big smile on her face."

Jack laughed, he couldn't help it. Sam was grinning. "You're crazy."

"Probably."

"You didn't have to do that."