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girl
has a dream house, a dream prince, and a dream wedding.”
    “And where is this
dream house?”
    The cab stopped in
front of his hotel. A liveried attendant opened her door and waited. “I have no
idea, but I can tell you this—it isn’t downtown.”
     
    “Let me buy you
dinner. It’s the least I can do for dragging you all over the place today.”
    Clare stopped in
the lobby and turned to him. “I appreciate the offer, Antonio, but no. I need
to get home. Things to do.”
    He walked with her
to the parking garage despite her insistence she didn’t need an escort. “I know
you don’t, but humor me. I like spending time with you.”
    She stopped at her
car, fished a set of keys from her purse. He stood by while she unlocked the
door. Just before she ducked into the driver’s seat, he caught her by the elbow
and pulled her against him.
    Her mouth gaped in
surprise. He swooped in to steal another kiss. It seemed the only way he would
get to taste her was to catch her with her defenses down. So far, the plan was
working out well. He’d caught her off-guard three times, and every time, she’d
tensed then melted against him.
    He savored her
unique flavor combined with a hint of the coffee the realtor had insisted on
purchasing for them. Careful not to let his hands roam places they weren’t
invited, he kept one on her elbow and carefully slid the other to the base of
her skull. The fall of silken hair over the back of his hand conjured thoughts
he was sure she would deem inappropriate if she were apprised of them.
    Tires screeched,
reminding him of where they were. They broke apart.
    “I’ve got to go,”
she said.
    He loved the
breathless quality of her voice. She might be holding him at a distance, but
she wasn’t unaffected. Patience was called for.
    He watched her car
until it disappeared up the ramp toward the exit. The ache in his groin was
something he was getting way too familiar with. It had been an almost constant
companion since she walked into that ballroom, and his life.
    When he signed the
contract with the Mustangs, he hadn’t given much thought to where he would
live. He’d grown up on Long Island and spent a sizeable chunk of his first
Major League signing bonus on his Manhattan apartment. He liked living there—in
the heart of the city. And everyone he knew had said his apartment was nice.
But then, no one’s opinion had mattered but his. Now that he’d met Clare, he
wanted a place she would be comfortable with, and that clearly wasn’t anything
in downtown Dallas.
    He took the
elevator to the thirty-fourth floor and entered his suite. He tossed his keys
on the nearest hard surface and raided the mini bar. After the roller coaster
of the last few hours, he needed a good stiff drink.
    It hadn’t occurred
to him Clare wouldn’t like a downtown apartment. In fact, he had done a lot of
picturing the two of them together, but his imagination had only gone as far as
the bedroom. And for the life of him, he couldn’t recall a single detail of the
room except it had a big bed and they used every inch of its surface. He’d
never gotten past that in his Clare-and-Tony-together thoughts. It didn’t
matter to him where they lived, but it mattered to her. He needed to look
deeper.
    What had she said
about the three places they had looked at? It looks cold. This one has no
soul. It’s okay, but I just don’t see you living here. This is a pop hit, and
you’re more of a classic.
    No one had ever
compared him to a classic. No one but Clare. He couldn’t explain what the
comment meant to him, but he did know he wanted to do everything in his power
to live up to the man she thought him to be.
    He closed his
eyes, remembering Clare standing in the middle of the first apartment they had
seen. She had nailed it. The place was cold and lifeless, and even though she
was as hot as they came, her vibrant heat hadn’t touched the austerity of the
room. Now that he had stepped away, he could see what