about kissing the famous Yankees baseball player she’d be able to do it right.
Then his lips brushed over hers again and she stopped thinking about the future or capturing anything. She thought instead of the way his flesh felt against hers. She thought of the way his lips parted against hers and his tongue pushed past the barriers of her lips and teeth tasting her deep.
The way he took control of the entire embrace, the same way he’d taken control of her night. Control. It had always been something she prided herself on but now it hardly seemed worthwhile.
His arms were big and strong as he wrapped them around her and she felt the muscles of his upper arms, the strength in him. Though he was no longer a professional athlete, Nate Stern was still a very strong man.
She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed back to look at his face. The genial smile he’d worn all night was gone and in its place was a fierce expression.
“Too much?”
“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe. I came to work tonight expecting everything to be the same, Nate, and now it’s not.”
“Good. Life should never be predictable.”
She shook her head. “Yes, it should. How else do you find your balance if life is always throwing you off? “
He stood up and drew her up beside him. “You find it in the people.”
“Family?” she asked as he led the way to the railing.
“Or the city,” he said. “Miami never changes. Not really. Not at its heart. Sure there is a different political climate sometimes but for the most part, the beach and subtropical climate encourage a more laid-back approach to living.”
His arm around her waist was strong and guiding as he brought them to a stop at the far end of the railing. The sounds of Luna Azul’s rooftop club were even more muted here and she looked out over Calle Ocho and Little Havana.
“Did you grow up here in Little Havana?”
“No. I grew up on Fisher Island.”
“Oh,” she said. She’d known that from the reading she’d done on him and his brothers before she’d taken this job. But the way he spoke about Miami, well, it had sounded as if he knew the city. The city she’d grown up in. Being middle class—okay, lower-middle class—she’d grown up in a far different neighborhood than the affluent community of Fisher Island.
“You?”
“Here in the city.”
He tipped her head up. “Then you know what I mean.”
She closed her eyes and thought of the city and the rhythms of the Calle Ocho. She thought of the struggling lower-middle class who still knew how to have fun and remembered birthdays spent on the beach.
“Yes, I do.”
“Show me what you see,” Nate said. He moved around so that he stood behind her. His chest and front pressed along her back, his hands settling on her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. “Show me your city.”
She started to point out the places she knew and what she heard when she was there. “Each part has a different rhythm, a different feel to it.”
“Like dancing?”
“Just like dancing. Some of it is hip and current, other parts sensual and emotional, some parts are the blues … the vibes all resonate around me.”
“Show me,” he said again, turning her in his arms and kissing her the way he had when they were sitting down. But this time he pulled from her so much more than a response to a kiss. He pulled out the song that she heard in her head. The song that was the very heart of who she was.
And she shared it with him with the sensual undulation of her hips. And the way she rested the curves of her breasts against the firmness of his chest.
Five
The sun was just coming up over the horizon when they arrived at his penthouse apartment in a skyscraper downtown. Nate had seldom enjoyed an evening as much as he had this one and he knew it was due to the fact that he was with Jen.
She stood in his foyer looking sleepy but happy and in this moment, Nate felt as if the night was a success. Somewhere between all the kisses and caresses he’d realized that despite the fact that she was a dancer and spent her life with people staring at her body, Jen was shy about letting anyone touch her too much.
He pulled her into his arms. He didn’t care about the city or what she thought of it, he wanted her. Had wanted her from the moment she’d sassed him in the club earlier. And the entire night had just reinforced that longing.
“I like this place,” she said as she walked across the Italian marble floor.
She stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows in his living room. “This view …”
“Incredible, isn’t it?” he asked, coming to stand behind her. He put his arms around her and drew her back against him.
“I had fun tonight,” she said. “I didn’t expect to.”
“Why not?”
“This wasn’t my best day,” she said.
“I thought you enjoyed yourself,” he said, leading the way to his modern kitchen. He directed her toward one of the high-backed stools at the counter.
“Tonight has been fun. But it started out worse … I’m tired, so I’m not making sense. I meant to say you made a bad day better.”
“I’m glad. What was bad about it?”
“Just some news I was hoping would be different.”
“What news?” he asked as he started gathering the ingredients for omelets from the refrigerator.
“Remember earlier tonight when you asked me about my secrets?” she asked. She didn’t look up at him but instead traced a pattern on the Mexican tile countertop. Her finger just ran across the pattern over and over again. He was struck by how long her fingers were. He wondered what they’d feel like on his skin.
“I do, indeed. Does the bad news have to do with your secrets?” he asked. He really hadn’t thought she was hiding much. She was a dancer and a choreographer. What kind of secrets could she have?
“Yes, it does. I don’t know what you know about my past,” she said, glancing over at him.
“Not too much. If I had to guess I’d say you were a dancer.”
“You’d be right on the money. Dancing has been my life for as long as I can remember. And I made a mistake a few years ago and haven’t been able to compete since then,” she said.
“What kind of mistake?”
“One that involved a man,” she said. Her eyes were wide and weary as she watched him and he kept his face neutral.
“It’s funny, Jen, but a woman ultimately led to my change of profession.” “Really?”
“Yes. When I was injured I had been engaged and while I was recovering, she decided to move on to a different player.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. Obviously, we weren’t going to be happy together. I learned a very important lesson from her, one I haven’t forgotten,” he said.
“What was that?” she asked.
“That I’m not cut out for marriage,” he said.
“To her,” Jen said. “Why did you tell me?”
“So you wouldn’t feel like you were the only one to make a mistake because of love. What happened with your ‘mistake’?”
“I was forbidden