“You’re not cold are you?”

  She shook her head, saying nothing, not having the energy to form words in her brain, much less speak them. She had only the energy to keep moving her feet, to keep shifting her thighs against his, to keep feeling the incredible delight of her breasts rubbing against his mile-wide chest.

  The record ended but they didn’t stop moving. Soon enough there was another whir, another click and the strains of another song banishing the silence. This one was just as slow, just as smoky.

  So was her whisper. “Kiss me, Spence.”

  He complied, dipping down to catch her mouth with his, parting his lips and allowing their tongues to meet and dance, as well. He tasted delicious—hot and sweet—and Cat tilted her head, kissing him back with lazy, lethargic lust.

  Without giving it any thought, Cat reached for the waist of his jeans and tugged his T-shirt free. She slid it up, her palms gliding over his taut skin every inch of the way. He was warm and firm, his body a little slick from his performance on stage, and the heat of the night. Not to mention their dance.

  Cat couldn’t resist running her hands over his chest, scraping the tips of her nails lightly across his flat nipples, rubbing at the flexing sinews of muscle on his shoulder. The man’s body was to die for—hard and ripped and hot all over.

  Reaching for the bottom of her shirt, Spence equaled things out a bit, pulling it off her with the same deliberation Cat had used. His fingertips danced across every bit of her skin as it was revealed.

  “Mmm,” she moaned, unable to manage anything else except the deep, throaty sound of pleasure at the warmth of his touch.

  Echoing it, he reached around and deftly unfastened her bra, pushing each strap off her shoulders. Cat shrugged and the flimsy fabric fell to join their shirts, then she pressed against him again so they could dance topless.

  The feel of his chest rubbing at the tips of her breasts through their clothes had been incredibly pleasurable.

  This was mind-blowing.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. Raising a hand, he cupped her breast, tweaking her nipple with delicate flicks of his fingers until Cat was ready to beg for more. Like his mouth.

  He seemed to read her mind. “I want to taste you.”

  Answering with her body, she leaned back and offered herself to him. He nibbled his way down her neck, pausing to lick the tiny hollow beneath her collarbone. She whimpered as he moved lower, until he was kissing the top curve of her breast. And when he slid his tongue farther to delicately lick at her hard and sensitive nipple, she cried out incoherently.

  “You taste as good as you look,” he mumbled before closing his mouth entirely over the tip of her breast and sucking deep.

  Thankfully, Spence still had an arm around her waist because Cat’s legs began to shake. “I’ve got you,” he whispered.

  Somewhere far away, there was brief silence, then another click and another song began. This one with a stronger, more driving beat that seemed to echo the rising tempo, the heat building ever higher between them.

  Lowering her to the top of the bar, Spence knelt in front of her, still doing crazy, heavenly things with his mouth and his magical hands. Leaving her reclining there, he hopped down to the floor and stood before her. He leaned down, continuing his hungry exploration of her breasts, her midriff and her stomach.

  When he reached for the snap of her jeans, Cat moaned again. “I want you so much.”

  “Ditto.”

  “I don’t know if I can even walk long enough to go upstairs to my place,” she whispered, unable to bear the thought of even a brief interruption.

  He took hold of her hips and tugged her toward him, until she was sitting on the edge of the bar, her legs dangling over the sides. “We’re not going anywhere,” he said. “I’m can’t wait one more minute for this. I’ve wanted you for too long.”

  Even more inflamed by the raw power of his desire—as if he’d hungered for her for years instead of mere days—Cat arched back. Lifting her hips, she watched as he unfastened her jeans and tugged them down.

  “Cat, I’ve dreamed of this, of having you,” he murmured as he looked his fill at her. “You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

  Bathed in the soft light, and in the heat of his eyes, Cat felt beautiful. Powerful. Irresistible. Like a pagan creature of sensation and shadow.

  Unable to contain it, she gave a soft, sultry laugh full of invitation. “Then have me, Dylan,” she whispered, knowing she wanted the taste of his real name in her mouth as she made love with him.

  Groaning, he lowered his head to her body, licking a path from the tip of her breast, down her midriff, to her belly. After circling her navel with his tongue, he moved lower until his lips were scraping the edge of her curls.

  She couldn’t contain a moan, or stop her hips from thrusting up a tiny bit in wanton invitation. “Oh, yes.”

  When he went even lower, delicately licking at her most throbbing, sensitive spot, she almost flew out of her mind. He tasted, gently nibbled, then carefully sucked her until she became nearly incoherent, begging him not to stop and to give her even more.

  “Open for me, baby,” he growled, dipping lower to lick even more thoroughly.

  Then she really did go out of her mind, exploding with pleasure as he devoured her. He was relentless, taking her even higher, not letting her descend from the heights of her orgasm. Spence continued toying with her, tasting her, sliding his fingers over her swollen flesh and taunting her with the promise of what was to come.

  “Please,” she begged, desperate for more. For deeper contact. “I want to feel you inside me.”

  Cat shimmied off the bar, her hands on his shoulders, trusting him to hold her. And he did, letting her slide down his body in one long, intimate caress. Facing each other, they both panted and stared for a long, heady moment, knowing the best was yet to come.

  Another unexpected moment of silence descended. Then a whir, a click and another song. Faster. With a stronger bass note and a louder drumbeat.

  “You choreographed this perfectly,” she said.

  He tangled his hands in her hair and drew her close. “Just wait until you see what I can do to some Metallica.”

  Then he caught her mouth in a mind-blowing kiss, deep, hungry and carnal. They were gasping when it ended. Gasping and reaching blindly for one another. She grabbed his zipper as he thrust a hand into his pocket. Cat shoved his jeans down one second after he retrieved a condom.

  “Boy Scout,” she said when she saw it.

  “No. But I do believe in being prepared.”

  She held her breath, watching with both curiosity and avarice as he pushed his briefs and jeans all the way off. And when she saw him—really saw him, so big and hard and ready—she moaned and started to shake.

  Glorious. And all hers. At least for tonight.

  Sheathing himself, Spence bent and effortlessly lifted her into his arms. She clung to him, her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist. His guttural growl told her he was just as affected by the brush of her wet skin against his erection. Pressing openmouthed kisses against his jaw, Cat began to whisper hungry, pleading things in his ear.

  “Anything worth having is worth waiting for, Cat,” he said, his voice thick and tight as he rubbed against her, teasing her with the promise of his entry but not giving her what she craved.

  Whimpering, she tightened her legs around his lean hips and tilted farther, trying to take what he wasn’t giving. He laughed softly, kissing her again.

  “Please, Dylan,” she cried against his lips.

  “Ah, Cat, I love the way you say my name,” he said on a long sigh. Then, cupping the curves of her bottom in his hands, he moved her, lowered her and finally thrust up into her.

  Cat dropped her head back and savored the deepness, the tightness, the joining. Sex had never been like this—never. She’d never felt as filled or as cherished or as ravenous as she did with Spence. And her moans probably told him so.

  As he began to move, slowly easing out of her body only to drive back in, Cat leaned back against the edge of the bar. Still holding her by the hips, he dropped forward and covered her nipple with his mouth, sucking deeply, and an explosion of warmth and delight surged through her body.

  “Cat?” He drew her up again, pulling her tightly against him as he continued his sensual strokes deep inside her.

  “Mmm?” was all she could manage.

  Pressing a sweet kiss of pure emotion to her lips, he whispered, “This was worth the wait.”

  OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, Dylan did everything he could to help Cat, liking that she really did need his help. Despite being certain she’d wanted him to stay for more sensual reasons, she’d also been honest about the amount of work she was facing. There was a lot to do, and frankly, he didn’t know how she would have managed it on her own. But he had no doubt she’d have tried.

  Thankfully, being a freelance software designer, he didn’t have to make a lot of arrangements to walk away from his private life for a while. He had no boss to report to, no family nearby who’d question his absence. No projects that couldn’t wait.

  And Banks was taking care of his house. The shithead.

  His friend had come by Monday at lunchtime, bringing Dylan some clothes and stuff. Meeting him in the parking lot, he’d been about to thank him for doing it. At least, until he saw what his clothes were packed in: the rattiest duffel bag Dylan had ever seen. “If my clothes are infested with crawling creatures, I am going to make you eat them one by one,” he’d bitten out.

  Banks had laughed, unflappable as always. “It’s clean. I actually got it from Jeremy and Josh’s basement and I ran it through your washer this morning. Come on, admit it. It definitely suits the wild, reckless rock and roller.” Pointing toward Jeremy’s Harley, still parked in the corner of the lot, he’d added, “As does that.” Then he handed Dylan the keys.

  Dylan had rolled his eyes. “What’s it gonna cost you for getting Jeremy to leave his baby here?”

  Banks’s grin had been evil. “It’s not costing me anything. But you owe the kid one weekend in your house for a party.”

  He’d nearly groaned. Abunch of teenagers tearing up his house…all so he could claim to own the death-on-wheels vehicle sitting outside Cat’s business, which he wouldn’t ride in a million years? This was getting ridiculous.

  Then he’d thought about the previous night and acknowledged the truth. It was so worth it.

  Before he’d been able to say anything more, Banks had reached over to the passenger seat of his car. “Here,” he’d said, tugging something heavy across his lap while Dylan shouldered the scruffy bag. “I brought you this, too.

  When he saw his old banged-up guitar case, Dylan had raised a questioning brow.

  “You can’t exactly serenade her with your Fender. Need a little more than a bass line for some of the sappy songs you wrote about her back when you were young and hairless.”

  Dylan could only shake his head. “Serenade?”

  Banks nodded, then said, in all seriousness, “I know you’re mad as hell at me, but you deserved your shot. Now you have it.” He handed the guitar case out the window, adding, “Make something happen, my friend, because there’s no doubt in my mind you’re gonna love her until the day you die.”

  Shocked by his normally wise-cracking buddy’s serious words, Dylan had taken the guitar and watched as Banks roared out of the parking lot. He’d stood there for a long time, thinking about Banks’s crazy claim.

  Yeah, he’d loved Cat as a kid and he craved her now. But loving her for the rest of his life? Was is really possible?

  And, if so, what was he going to do about it…particularly when Cat learned the truth about who he really was?

  He hadn’t had much time to dwell on it because Cat had been true to her word and put him right to work. When he wasn’t scouring the attic and storage room for treasures or junk—or some things Cat insisted were both—he was packing boxes or hauling trash. Negotiating with a greedy used-furniture broker, he’d made sure the guy agreed to buy what he wanted piece by piece, instead of paying one set price for everything, as he’d originally demanded. That would mean a lot more money for Cat when the sale went through at the end of the month.

  She’d been very appreciative. And Lordy, did the woman know how to show it. In more positions than he’d imagined possible.

  Inspired by her, er, gratitude, Dylan had begun to research antique lamps on the Internet. That, too, had paid off. He’d found a unique lighting company which specialized in old-fashioned colored glass, and had contacted them about the fixtures over the bar. He’d even found an electrician who specialized in delicate work to remove them once Temptation closed its doors for good. The money from those fixtures alone would keep Cat in the black for a while after she closed down.

  She appreciated that, too. Appreciated it so much he really wasn’t sure he was gonna be able to walk away on Thursday morning.

  Which was saying a lot, considering every other night had been just as miraculous.

  Making love with Cat was so perfect, such a part of him now, that it felt more natural to be touching her than not. Wherever they were—in her bed, in the bar, in her living room, in the downstairs kitchen—didn’t matter. He hungered for her and she was equally as ravenous.

  He’d taken special delight in making another of her fantasies come true Tuesday night. Bringing down some blankets from her apartment, he’d led Cat to the stage and loved her there, with the small spotlights splaying pools of color and light all over their bodies.

  It had been incredibly erotic. Made more so by his certainty that what was happening between the two of them was so much more than he could ever have anticipated.

  They both felt the intense connection, he didn’t doubt that. He’d become adept at reading her moods, and she knew exactly what he was feeling. Spending practically every waking—and definitely every sleeping—minute together, they’d gotten to know each other like longtime lovers.

  They laughed a lot. They loved a lot. They talked a lot. About everything except the past. Not to mention the future. But he sure had been thinking about them both, wondering how long he could let this go on before he came clean with her.

  And what would happen when he did.

  7

  LATE THURSDAY AFTERNOON, Dylan returned to Temptation after making a trip to a moving supply company. He’d gone to pick up some boxes for Cat to use for packing up her apartment. He found her behind the bar, a smile on her face, hanging up the phone. No one else was around.

  “Hey,” she said, watching him walk in. Scrunching her brow, she looked doubtfully at the big pile of flattened boxes he dropped onto the table closest to the door. “You do realize I only own a small dresser full of clothes and a mismatched, incomplete set of dishes, don’t you?”

  Walking over, he raised a challenging brow. “These are for your shoes.”

  She nibbled her bottom lip. “You peeked into my closet, huh?”

  “I’ve seen less footwear at Payless.”

  She tossed her head, sending those blond tresses bouncing. “Everyone deserves one decadent indulgence.”

  You’re mine flashed through his head, but he didn’t say it.

  “Well,” he replied instead as he leaned across the bar and ran his fingers through a long, silky lock of her hair. “I’ll approve of your vice if you wear those knee-high black patent leather boots for me some night.”

  “Oooh, you saw those, hmm?” She licked her lips. “They were part of a Halloween costume…but I kept them. Just in case.”

  “Just in case you wanted to drive a man insane with lust?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Without being asked, she reached down into the fridge and got him a cold bottle of beer, pushing it toward him. Dylan took it gratefully. He didn’t drink much, but when he wasn’t performing, he liked an icy beer at the end of the day. She already remembered his brand.

  “I must say my shoe wardrobe does seem to come in handy for seduction,” she said.

  “Oh?” He tensed at the thought of Cat seducing anyone else.

  Nodding, she explained, “My friend Gracie who owns the book store next door borrowed a pair of my sexiest shoes last Saturday night.”

  Gracie’s seduction. Not Cat’s. Thank heaven.

  Dylan had heard about Gracie, as much as he’d heard about Cat’s friend Tess and her sister Laine, but he hadn’t met any of them yet. Unless…“Gracie—she’s not the one with the prosthetic leg, is she?” he asked, thinking about the flamboyantly attractive young woman he’d seen coming out of the bookstore yesterday.

  Cat shook her head. “That’s Trina, her assistant, who is a riot. She was in here a while ago having a big blowout with this guy who spends his days writing in Gracie’s store. Then they made up. Big-time. I thought I was gonna have to turn the hose on them.” Grinning at the memory, she added, “If you’d met Gracie, you’d remember her—she’s got the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen.”

  Dylan doubted that. Seemed to him he was looking at the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen.

  “Anyway, she wore the shoes to her ten-year Kendall High reunion the other night.”

  “Ten years, huh?” Good thing Gracie wasn’t one year younger. That would have put her in his graduating class—and her memory might be a little better than Cat’s.

  “Yep. And the shoes apparently brought out the very naughty Gracie who almost never comes out to play.”

  He winced as she wagged her eyebrows suggestively. “Don’t tell me she had one of those reunion hookups. I thought they only happened in chick flicks. Or horror movies.”

  “And in romance novels,” she replied airily. “But yeah, she really did. She came in for lunch on Monday and told me all about her wicked evening in my wickedly hot shoes. It was very exciting, right down to a case of mistaken identity.” Emitting a tiny wolf whistle, she added, “And when I met the guy earlier today, I totally got it. He came in looking for her and had a beer. Whoa, mama.”