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hadn’t been so amazing she’d probably feel guilty about what she had done. At least they’d used condoms. She couldn’t imagine the consequences if they hadn’t.
    “I would’ve called,” he said, his sultry accent like a soft caress on her skin.
    “I don’t believe you.”
    “Tell me your name. Give me your number. Let me prove it to you.”
    “Actually, you know, I’m, umm, I’m not really interested in letting this go any further. The other night was, well, it was…” Amazing! Incredible! Unbelievable! “…fun. I’m uh, not really the kind of person who goes home with a man the first night I meet him.”
    She wished she could blame it on the drinking. Two shots of Jägermeister was hardly enough to compromise her moral judgment so severely. Stacie decided he didn’t need to know that.
    “I was drinking and that obviously clouded my judgment. So if you’ll excuse me.” Stacie said it with the full intent of walking away, so she was a little frustrated when her feet didn’t move.
    Owen didn’t move either. He continued to stroke her cheek and his eyes came back to hers as if they were searching her true feelings. He either didn’t believe a word she said or was thinking of a way to convince her otherwise. Either way, she was in trouble. The fluttering butterflies revealed that much.
    “You’re probably not going to believe me, but I’ve never done anything like that before either,” he said.
    “You’re right…I don’t believe you. You were pretty well prepared.”
    “Being prepared doesn’t make me a player.” He opened his hand and cupped her face in his palm. He closed his eyes and dropped his chin for a brief moment. A shadow seemed to linger until he spoke again, then it disappeared.
    “To be honest, the last thing I was looking for that night was to bring someone home. For some reason, you got to me. You’re getting to me now. And for the record, it wasn’t the first time we met.” He took that final half step and wrapped his arms around her waist as he gently pressed his body into hers.
    Stacie didn’t want to be reminded of that first time they met. Even awash the embarrassment of spilling coffee all over him, she couldn’t deny that he was getting to her. He’d been under her skin since the moment they touched at that cafe. Now, as his breath warmed her cheek, goose bumps covered her body. His lips were right there almost touching hers. The anticipation was more than she could handle.
    “Are you going to kiss me?” she asked, taking in the easy curve of his mouth.
    “Do you want me to?”
    “No,” she whispered as his soft lips brushed lightly across hers.
    “If you tell me your name, I won’t kiss you.”
    He tightened his hold around her, pressing their bodies together even more intimately. Whoa—he was aroused. Reality faded quickly, replaced by thoughts of his naked body.
    It was the nightclub all over again, except this time she couldn’t blame her impulses on the spicy liquor or an indescribable need to test her own sensuality. Despite the deck where they stood being vacant, the ferry remained a very public place and she was far too aware of the consequences of ripping his clothes off right where they stood.
    “And if I don’t tell you my name…” she said, their lips continuing to dance each time one of them spoke.
    “Then I’ll kiss you until you do.”
    It was tempting not to tell him. The memory of kissing him did funny things to her body, inspiring tingles and chills. If he kissed her, she was done for and her new life without a man in it, well, that plan would be yesterday’s news. She wasn’t convinced that was a good idea.
    “Stacie,” she confessed.
    “Stacie,” he whispered slowly in a thick Cajun slur that was just as seductive as his lips.
    Owen smiled again as he lowered his eyes and Stacie knew he was going to kiss her. Then the ferry came to a bumpy stop at the dock.
    Time had passed so quickly she hadn’t realized they’d made it