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there a man waiting for you at home?”
    “No,” she answered, surprised—and pleased—by the bluntness of the question. “I’m widowed.”
    “I’m sorry.” He gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “How long ago?”
    Beth looked out at the lake, watched a crane dive, dip a wing into the water and slice the glassy surface. She was sorry, too, for the vibrant youth who had evolved into the troubled, bitter man.
    “Four years,” she said, pulling away from the past. She thought of the snippets of information shared in the bride’s chambers—no social life to speak of and the redhead’s comment of his need to return to the land of the living. That didn’t necessarily mean there wasn’t a female in his life. “And you? Is there a woman waiting somewhere for you?”
    A shadow darkened his eyes. “No, I lost my wife two years ago.”
    Lost , she mused. Not, passed away, or she died. Not even, “I’m a widower,” but lost . The depth of his love, the weight of pain in his voice reminded Beth of her favorite song. She could see Gabe walking the streets at night, calling out his wife’s name, and again she wondered what it would feel like to be loved so deeply, wondered about the woman who had evoked and been the recipient of that love.
    “I’m sorry.” She returned his gentle squeeze, then let go of his hand and reached for her drink.
    The band announced the last dance and, eager to put thoughts of the past behind her, Beth turned her attention to the dance floor. The strains of When a Man Loves a Woman filled the air. Beth’s gaze landed on an elderly couple, or more specifically, on the old fellow’s hand as it slid down to squeeze his partner’s ass.
    “Classic move,” Gabe chuckled.
    As the couple shuffled by, the woman grabbed the hand on her bottom, pulled it up, and planted it firmly at her waist. Beth laughed. “I think that can be classified as an epic fail.”
    “I’d like to think I have better moves than him, then.”
    She’d just bet he did. Beth glanced up from beneath her lashes and gave in to the urge to play. “Really?”
    “It’s true. I learned the hard way after high school that college girls were savvy. They expected more. I had to expand and add to my repertoire of seductive skills.”
    Beth caught her lip between her teeth. “So, you’re going to try and dazzle me with your old college moves, now?”
    “No, I pretty much bombed with those, as well.”
    She doubted Gabe had ever bombed when he’d gone after a woman, and would have told him so, had she not lost the capability of speech when his warm breath washed over her cheek.
    “I have all new moves, now. I particularly like this one,” Reclaiming her hand, Gabe’s gaze held hers as he skimmed the rough pad of his thumb over her knuckles with the same slow glide as his thigh rubbing against hers beneath the table. “What do you think?”
    She couldn’t, at least not clearly. “That’s, um, pretty good.”
    “Hmm. Pretty good? Well, how about this one?” He brought her hand to his mouth, looked into her eyes and pressed a soft, wet kiss to her palm.
    Heat rippled under her skin. Her breath rushed out, a quick puff of surprise at how quickly, how intensely she responded to the touch of his mouth on her skin. Her mouth went slack, her eyelids drifted down with the sheer force of sexual arousal assailing her. When she lifted them again, she allowed him to see exactly what she was feeling, what he was doing to her. She’d never been so bold and the decadence of it was exciting in itself.
    She wanted more. “That’s a…really good move.”
    His eyes dropped to her mouth and she felt his gaze there as surely as if he’d physically touched her. “I have more.”
    And she wanted to experience each and every one of them.
    Oh, God, what am I doing?
    I’m doing what I want, and, I want to do it with this man.
    With that resolve, Beth unlocked the door to her long suppressed desires and set them free. She tilted her