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asked, sliding a hand around her waist, his breath teasing her lips.
    She eased back enough to look into his eyes. “This is new. I bought this one just for you."
    He brushed his thumb over her hip and his eyebrows went up when he encountered the elastic of her new thong. “Lucky me.” He lowered his mouth another fraction of an inch and kissed her.
    She could kiss him all night, the way he nuzzled her gently, his tongue teasing her lips, her tongue.
    "We could just stay here,” she said against his mouth when he eased away. “Go back upstairs and do more of that."
    He stepped away then, bracing a hand on the top of the car door, that sexy smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “And waste your pretty new dress? I don't think so."
    She slid into the car. “Hello, Arthur,” she said to the driver, catching his glance in the rear view mirror as she smoothed her skirt.
    "Good evening."
    Vicente climbed in beside her and closed the door. He curved his arm around her shoulders and leaned into her. She waited for him to slide his hand under her hem or down the vee of her dress, or at least kiss her throat, but all he did was instruct Arthur to the club.
    * * * *
    Her fears that she'd done something wrong were soon assuaged. They passed the line to enter the club, pulsing with dance music, a thick Spanish beat, heavy on guitar and drums. She paused to look over the dance floor, where couples were moving together and apart, some treating the dance as no more than foreplay, moving into each other, rubbing against each other. Others seemed to take great pride in stepping in time to the music, twirling, ducking, spinning with great skill. Which would Vicente expect? She could dance, but finding a rhythm with a man on a first date was tricky.
    His hand on her waist, he guided her to the bar. “Martini?"
    "Mm, a chocolate one.” She leaned one arm against the bar as he ordered their drinks.
    He cut her a sharp glance. “Did you eat?"
    She frowned. Why did he ask? “I had a salad after I went shopping."
    He trailed his fingertips along her jaw. “I've been remiss in feeding you. Perhaps later we can get something to eat."
    "I'm fine,” she assured him, turning into his touch and lifting her gaze. His smile sent a shiver of delight through her. She was happier than she could remember being, and the idea scared her, but she pushed the fear away. How often did a woman get a chance to feel this sexy, this desirable?
    He dropped his touch to take their drinks from the bar. He passed her the martini glass and took her hand, leading her toward the tables circling the dance floor.
    "Do you like to dance?” He held her chair.
    "Mm.” She sat and sipped of her drink. “I need a bit more of this before I try that.” She motioned to a couple who whipped by.
    He sat beside her, legs stretched out before him, and sighed. “I haven't danced in awhile. I've missed it."
    "Are you good?” Wariness edged through her earlier anticipation. What if she couldn't keep up?
    He stretched his hand to her, palm out. “This is a good song. Why don't you find out?"
    His confidence intimidated her, but only until she stepped into his arms. He tucked their joined hands between their bodies so the back of his wrist brushed her breast and flattened his other palm at the small of her back, bringing her hips against his. Already she could feel the ridge of his erection and they hadn't started moving yet.
    "Watch me, Veronica,” he murmured, and rolled his hips against hers to the rhythm of the song.
    God, did he have great rhythm. She stared into his dark eyes, saw his intent before the first step. She moved backward at his urging, still pressed to him, moved forward as he guided her with the barest pressure on her back until they moved together to the beat in their own little section of the floor. Vicente grinned as they twirled, and dropped his hand from her back to spin her away from him before curling his arm around her shoulders and tucking her