I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

I do not dance. He can sense my reluctance, and under the colored lights,  I can see his amused, slightly sardonic smile. He gives my hand a sharp tug, and I'm in his arms again, and he starts to move, taking me with him. Boy, he can dance, and I can't believe that I'm following him step for step. Maybe it's because I'm drunk that I can keep up. He's holding me tight against him, his body against mine... if he wasn't  clutching me so tightly, I'm sure I would swoon at his feet. In the back of my mind, my mother's often-recited warning comes to me: Never trust a man who can dance.

"I'm going to have a shower. Unless you'd like to shower first?" He cocks his head to one side, still grinning. My heartbeat has picked up, and my medulla oblongata has neglected to fire any synapses to make me breathe. His grin widens, and he reaches over and runs his thumb down my cheek and across my lower lip."Breathe ,''he whispers and rises. "Breakfast will be here in fifteen minutes.You must be famished." He heads into the bathroom and closes the door.I let out the breath that I've been holding. Why is he so damned attractive right now I want to go and join him in the shower. I have never felt this way about anyone. My hormones are racing. My skin tingles where his thumb traced over my face and lower lip.

I feel like squirming with a needy, achy... discomfort. I don't understand this reaction.Hmm... Desire. This is desire. This is what it feels like.

I lie back on the soft feather filled pillows. 'If you were mine.' Oh my - what would I do to be hisHe's the only man who has ever set my blood racing around my body. Yet, he's so antagonizing too; he's difficult, complicated, and confusing. One minute he rebuffs me, the next he sends me fourteen-thousand-dollar books, then he tracks me like a stalker.