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passions, but not
without a lot of effort.
    And with Shaw, she no longer had the incentive to work that
hard.

Chapter 9
    He stroked soft circles on the back of her hand,
counter-clockwise, as if he meant to unwind the anxiety out of her. She inhaled
deeply, afraid her raw emotions might flood out in the tears that were burning
the insides of her eyelids.
    This was too much. He was too much.
    Or maybe, he was exactly what she needed.
    “What do you remember?”
    “Nothing,” she answered.
    “Do you remember where you were?”
    She took a wild guess. “Daddy Pigs?”
    “Dive bar extraordinaire,” he cracked. “Do you remember who
you went with?”
    “I was alone,” she said, not needing a specific memory to
answer his question. Kate had had friends at the office and friends on the club
scene, but no one she dared meet in the middle. As far as she knew, the only
person who’d bridged the gap between her old existence and her new one was
standing inches away from her, tightening the pressure on her hand.
    “What were you wearing?”
    “No idea.”
    “Here, I can help. You were wearing a short black skirt.” His
speaking voice was deep and throaty against the contrasting rock-n-roll wailing
from the song. “A silver jacket.” He cleared his throat, but his next words
still came out as rough as gravel. “A lace, turquoise bra.”
    His grin—and the lusty glaze of his dark blue stare—shook
the foundation of her trust.
    But only a little…and in a very good way.
    She snagged her bottom lip with her teeth. “I’m wearing the
same bra tonight,” she confessed. “What are the chances?”
    His gaze dropped. “Where we’re concerned, I’d say they’re
pretty good. I don’t believe in coincidences. The longer I know you, the more I
believe that’s true.”
    Kate closed her eyes again, took a deep breath and arched
her back, unable to stop the incremental drop in her inhibitions. In the moment
in between the song ending and starting again, Shaw exhaled. The sound was loud
and ragged and ripe with hunger.
    His breath on her neck and the heat of his palm on her wrist
jerked her heartbeat until it matched the bass-thrum of the song. Slowly, the
pounding in her ears subsided enough for her to make sense of the lyrics.
    “Why don’t I know this song?”
    “I haven’t played it since that night. I didn’t want my
music to remind you of something you’d rather forget.”
    Surprised, Kate opened her eyes, but he’d closed his. She watched
him lip-synch to his own voice. His shoulders rocked up and down, his rhythm natural,
intrinsic, mesmerizing. She leaned in closer and breathed in the scent of him—a
heady combination of soap and spice. The aroma was intoxicating, but she didn’t
step away. Instead, she surrendered to the sensual assault. She wanted to be
here, with Shaw. She needed to be.
    “Thank you,” she said.
    “Don’t thank me. I wasn’t a total saint. A guy can only work
up so much resistance when a gorgeous woman is stripping off her clothes.”
    “Please tell me stripping is just an expression.”
    “Well,” he said, his blue eyes glossy with need. “There were
no poles involved.”
    The corners of her mouth betrayed her with a smile. “How
much did I take off?”
    “First, you let your hair down.”
    He slid his fingers through the chignon she often wore on
the job. The pins surrendered, sending a shiver sparked by the gentle tugs on
her scalp through her body.
    “And then?” she asked.
    His hand dropped, blazing a path from her throat to the
sensitive flesh between her breasts. “You opened your blouse.”
    One by one, she released the buttons. His breath hitched
with each revelation of skin. “You’ve gone too far,” he warned.
    “I’m sober this time,” she reassured him. “I know what I’m
doing.”
    “Do you?” He led her to the door, then flattened himself against
the wood before pulling her close.
    With her nearly bared breasts against his chest, she felt
his