“Hello,” he replied, continuing to devour her with his eyes. On the stage the other night, he’d been too captivated by her face and her outrageous behavior to truly look at the rest of her. Oh, he’d known she felt amazing in his arms, but he hadn’t realized just how lush and curvy her body was. Not until now, when he saw the deep V of cleavage revealed by her tank top, and the full hips outlined beneath the tight jean skirt. Not skinny, she was beautifully curved and soft—incredibly feminine and so damned appealing he forgot to breathe for a few seconds.

  “I was just passing by, on my lunch break,” she said. “Sure didn’t expect to look over and see you here.”

  “Am I going to get tackled by your concerned friends and neighbors if I ask you to join me?”

  One of her brows shot up in confusion, and she quickly took stock of the situation around them. The confusion changed into a frown when she realized they were being watched. “Small town.”

  Rising to his feet, he stepped close. “Every resident of which seems to be on vigilant guard of your virtue.”

  She laughed, the light sound matched by the sparkle in her eyes. “My virtue? Maybe you are straight out of a pirate romance novel.” Then she lowered her gaze, her smile fading as her eyes noted his Jacksonville Jaguars T-shirt and his tight, faded jeans. “Though you do the contemporary look pretty well, too.”

  There was that forthright honesty again. No game-playing, no flirtation. No pretending she hadn’t practically kissed his lungs out last weekend.

  She was attracted to him, as much as he was to her. “Maybe you should tell me your last name and phone number now, before someone whisks you away from the big, bad carny man.”

  She rolled her eyes. Opening her mouth to reply, she was interrupted. “Allie, come join us,” one of the mothers called, her tone more commanding than cajoling.

  She sighed. “Okay. Apparently, some of my friends and neighbors are a bit overprotective.” She waved nonchalantly and told the woman that she’d catch up later.

  “Have they had you tied up and hidden since last week?”

  “Sorry. Not into bondage.”

  A reluctant laugh crossed his lips. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised but considering you faked hypnosis to steal a kiss from a helpless man, I have to wonder what your limits are.”

  “Handcuffs and chains are definitely outside my limits.”

  “Aw, shucks.”

  She gave him a sharp-knuckled punch to the shoulder and even that contact felt so good coming from her that he wanted to grab her hand, open his mouth on her palm and devour her.

  As if sensing his thoughts, she stepped away. “Let’s walk.”

  To the nearest hotel would be good.

  She didn’t head for a hotel. Instead, she led him through the tiny downtown area of Trouble. Ignoring the looks of everyone they passed—most of whom greeted Allie with a smile and Damon with a glare—they talked about the weather. And the lousy coffee in the local restaurants. And the carnival. And her job as a secretary to a local millionaire. And nothing important at all.

  One surprise was her age. Allie was twenty-two. Not too young for his twenty-eight, but it still took him by surprise. She looked young, of course, but there was a wisdom—an air of experience—in her tone, and her matter-of-fact outlook. It intrigued him, made him wonder what the rest of her story was, why she seemed older than her years.

  “So where have you been this past week?” he asked after they returned to the park. The crowd had thinned out, with only one or two moms watching their kids.

  “Have you really been trying to find me?”

  He could have kept things easy, come back with a flirtatious answer, but he didn’t. The truth was a deep want had existed within him since the moment he’d seen her. The reaction wasn’t shocking, considering his sex life had been so dormant lately. But the power of his interest in only her surprised him. He’d never been immediately hit by such intense attraction for any woman before now. Her shadowy silhouette, those amazing eyes and incredible mouth had created a powerful first impression. Her actions…the determined way she’d taken what she wanted, and how damn good the kiss had been, made her unforgettable.

  And their simple walk today made him realize one thing more—he liked her. So he didn’t try to pretend, and he held nothing back. Not his interest. Not his intensity. Not his intentions. “I’ve been searching for you every single day since the night we met.”

  “Oh,” she whispered. Her full lips parted, and she breathed deeper. Stepping in until her mouth was close to his throat, he felt her soft exhalations as well as the warmth of her body. His responded with typical heat, and Damon realized just how much he’d missed his previously healthy interest in sex.

  “Have you been hiding?” he asked, reaching up to touch her arm. A mere stroke of his fingers on her elbow, it was loaded with sensation just the same. “Purposely staying away from me?”

  She shook her head, thought better of it, and slowly nodded a yes.

  “Embarrassed because you went for something you wanted? A lot of people would love to have the guts to do the same thing.”

  “I wasn’t embarrassed. I was afraid.”

  “Afraid?”

  “Afraid next time even an audience won’t stop me.”

  His muscles reacted to her words before his brain did, growing tense and aware. His skin suddenly seemed electrified—reacting with lightning intensity to her nearness, the smell of her hair, the brush of air her whispers created on his neck.

  “Come to the fairgrounds with me.” He forced the command out of his throat rather than doing what he really wanted to do—kiss her senseless again and see if she meant it. But their daytime audience was more impressionable than last Sunday’s, so he stifled the impulse. His hand still on her arm, he turned, intending to lead her to his trailer. Not a four-star establishment, but it was the nearest private place he knew of. At least, the nearest private place with a bed. Which was exactly where the two of them were going to end up—he knew it as sure as he knew he was ready to start living this part of his life again. Emotion might have been dead to him for a while, but his libido had woken up and it had this woman’s name engraved on it.

  She didn’t budge. “You don’t really know me.”

  “I know you grew up in your minister grandfather’s house, have lived here for a year, you love your boss.” Brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes, he added, “I know you like cotton candy.”

  “I repeat, you don’t know me.”

  “Are you married?”

  She shook her head.

  He didn’t even ask if she had a boyfriend, knowing even that wouldn’t matter to him. “Then I know enough.”

  “No,” she insisted. “Look, I like you. Really. But I’m not in the position to have a one-night stand with a stranger. My life’s not as…simple as it might appear.”

  “My full name’s Damon Cole. And our walk—not to mention the kiss—says we’re no longer strangers. Besides, I don’t like simple.”

  A tiny smile appeared. “Mine’s Allie Cavanaugh.”

  He noted the name, just in case she managed to slip away again. “I don’t want a one-night stand with a stranger either,” he said. “But we’ve established that we’re now officially not strangers.” He looked up and pointed at the brilliant blue sky. “And it’s not night.”

  Snagging her bottom lip between her teeth, she fought a visible battle not to laugh…or agree. He could almost see the mind working behind her eyes as she gave it some serious thought.

  He knew what she was thinking. They were on the verge of being wild. Crazy. Reckless. All of the above.

  But it came down to chemistry. They had it. For whatever reason, they sparked off one another in a way few people did, even those who proclaimed everlasting love and fidelity. He didn’t necessarily believe his grandmother’s stories of soul mates and love at first sight, but he definitely believed in chemistry.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally said, her answer clear. “I guess I should have kept on walking when I saw you there.”

  His jaw tightened. “You’re saying no?”

  She nodded, though her frown told him she didn’t want to.

  “When I know you want to say yes.”

  With a helpless shrug, she tugged her arm free. “Maybe I do. I’ll be honest with you, right now, I don’t know what I want.”

  He tried to coax a smile. “Other than cotton candy?”

  Her lips didn’t even twitch. “I ate too much and got sick. I think I cured myself of giving in to silly cravings for a while.”

  His chin lifted in challenge. “Including your craving for me?”

  A typical female might have become indignant, denied his claim and tried to pierce his supreme confidence. Allie didn’t. “Yes. Including my craving for you.” With a sigh, she lifted a hand to his cheek and rubbed her thumb along his jaw, the brush of her smooth fingers cool and hot all at once. “I’ll regret it,” she said. “Believe me, I already know I’ll regret it. Goodbye, Damon.”

  Without another word, she began to walk away. And because of the hungry helplessness in her voice, her obvious regret and their audience in the park, Damon had no choice but to watch her go.

  “WHADDAYA MEAN YOU don’t know what you want? Any woman with a drop of estrogen in her body would want that man!”

  Allie glanced over at Tessa, who was working with her at the library bake sale Saturday night. Already mourning the carnival’s imminent departure, all of Trouble’s residents appeared to have turned up to gorge themselves on candy apples and get dizzy on the Tilt-A-Whirl. “I can’t afford to want him.”

  “Come on, what woman can’t afford a night of booty-shaking, rock-til-you-drop sex with a hot stranger you’ll never have to see again?” She rolled her eyes. “Imagine one night with a dream man who you’ll never have to watch scratch himself or get a beer gut or snort when he tells his nephews to pull his finger.”

  Allie grinned, knowing the kinds of guys Tessa dated.

  “You can do anything…have your own personal fantasy come true, a night to remember the rest of your life,” her friend said. “As the years go by, he’ll become sexier, stronger, more dangerous in your mind. When you’re old, you’ll get a secretive smile on your face when you think of that one amazing time when you went for something incredible.”

  Fanning herself with her hand as her vividly painted words sunk in, Tessa fell silent. Reaching for a plate of cellophane-wrapped brownies, she tore one open and began to shove it into her mouth—every woman’s first substitute for great sex. “Who wouldn’t go for that?” she mumbled around the chocolate.

  Allie’s legs were still shaking at the picture Tessa had put into her head. “One whose last experience with irresponsible sex made her a single mom by the age of twenty-one.” She hadn’t even mentioned her son to Damon during their walk, knowing any sexy guy would be unnerved by a woman who’d gotten pregnant the first time she’d had sex. Maybe if she’d actually planned to sleep with him, she would have told him. But it was a moot point now.

  “Allie, there is such a thing as protection.”

  Yeah, and she owned stock in it, never going anywhere without condoms in her purse, not that she expected to use them. “There’s also such a thing as my reputation. Do you think I don’t know the way some people look at the unwed tramp who wormed her way into Mr. Potts’s good graces?”

  “That’s so twentieth century.”

  “It’s also so true.”

  Tessa frowned, but she didn’t deny the accusation. How could she? She knew as well as Allie that there were a few holdouts in Trouble who had only accepted Allie and her little boy because of their connection to the town patriarch. Not only did Allie work for the man, but her sister was now married to his grandson. She was, whether the old-timers liked it or not, a member of his extended family, so they’d grudgingly accepted her. But if she slipped up and made a scandal of herself with some traveling carnival performer, she’d lose all the ground she’d gained with them.

  Last week’s kiss had been whispered about; she was sure. But Damon’s act was so good, even the most scurrilous old gossips—like the Feeney sisters—couldn’t be certain she hadn’t been under his spell.

  Well, hadn’t she been? And wasn’t she still?

  “All I’m saying,” Tessa continued, grabbing another brownie and then a handful of chocolate chip cookies, “is that if you don’t go after what you want, you’re never going to get it.”

  “But what if I’m not sure what I want?” A good, stable, old-fashioned home where she was loved and respected—enfolded into a community family—was what she thought she’d always wanted.

  Now sin in the arms of a violet-eyed stranger was all she could think about.

  “I think I know someone who could help you figure it out,” Tessa said. She pointed toward the crowd pouring into the Roma King’s tent, anxious to attend his last show of the carnival.

  “Oh, yeah, he could help me figure it out while relieving me of my clothes one piece at a time.”

  “Yum.”

  “Forget it.”

  Tessa wasn’t giving up. “Seriously, you need professional help.” Smirking, she added, “That, or a dildo.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Well then, go to the professional. Hypnotists are good at getting to the heart of people’s innermost desires, right?” Tessa reached into her pocket and pulled out two tickets for tonight’s show. “I think it’s time you go to the expert and let him help you figure out what it is you really want.”

  Chapter 4

  DAMON IMMEDIATELY SPOTTED Allie in the audience. Seeing her face in the crowd two rows back from the stage explained the tension he’d been feeling. His body had known she was there, even though his brain had told him all day that she wouldn’t show. He was glad his body had won out over his brain. If only hers would.

  Nodding to let her know he’d seen her, he began looking for volunteers. He knew better than to try to get her onstage—she’d bolt. There were plenty of others to choose from. Dozens of people’s hands were up as they offered to be hypnotized.

  For the past week, Damon had avoided selecting any young women—the most vocal about wanting to be chosen. Since the night he and Allie had kissed on stage, his show had been packed with females with low-cut shirts and high expectations. It wasn’t just the young, on-the-make ones he had to look out for. On Tuesday he’d chosen a middle-aged blonde from the audience, whose husband had been sitting beside her, making her a safe choice. Uh…wrong. She’d barely stepped onto the stage before she’d thrown her arms around his neck and yanked his face to hers for a slurpy kiss.

  After that, he’d picked men and old ladies, or, on occasion, a few people together. Multiples generally proved susceptible to suggestion due to group mentality. And three people wouldn’t be diving on him with lips puckered all at the same time. He hoped.

  It was when choosing another group for his last session of the night that he noticed the woman sitting beside Allie. She was young, maybe twenty, with frizzy blond hair and a loud laugh. Her arm waving frantically in the air, she almost fell out of her seat in an effort to gain his attention. “We want to be part of the group!” she said, jerking Allie to her feet.

  “You’d better be talking about you and the mouse in your pocket when you say ‘we,’” Allie snapped, making Damon and the closest audience members chuckle.

  The woman was already pushing Allie over the legs of those sitting between them and the aisle. “There’s safety in numbers.”

  Damon didn’t say a word. If Allie’s friend wanted to get them together again, even in front of an audience, he wouldn’t argue. Tonight was probably the last time he’d ever see the woman who’d awakened something in him that he’d thought was dead. Several somethings. Not just his sex drive, but his sense of humor, even a bit of his optimism.

  “Okay, we’re ready,” the blonde said when they reached the stage. Her arm was wrapped tightly around Allie’s, almost holding her captive, and a married couple who’d volunteered stood between them and the stairs, blocking any escape.

  He should have offered her an out. Maybe if he hadn’t been dressed in costume he would have. But frankly, the Roma King persona sometimes lowered his inhibitions. So he didn’t give her a way out. Instead, he met her eye, daring her to go for it.

  She did. Stiffening her spine, she lifted her chin and forced a tight smile. “Fine.”

  “Good girl,” he mouthed, then turned to the others in the group. “You’re all willing to participate in this experiment?”

  They nodded, even Allie. But before Damon could continue with one of his standard routines, such as having the group perform a Beatles song or act like characters from a popular movie, Allie’s frizzy-haired friend spoke up. “Do you take requests?”

  Allie’s eyes widened.

  “I mean…can you hypnotize us all into thinking about—revealing—what we truly want? Our secret wishes and desires?”

  The married couple each shrugged, apparently having no problem with the idea. Allie obviously did. “Forget it.”

  Damon quickly realized what the friend was up to. Hadn’t Allie said something about not knowing what she wanted? Or, at least, she hadn’t had the courage to own up to what she wanted.

  “You’re saying you want to explore your own hopes and dreams?” he asked, his voice low and even, already gaining the trust of his test subjects with his soothing tone.

  “Beats hopping around like a frog,” the male volunteer said.

  The audience murmured their approval. With one last glare at her friend, Allie said, “All right. Go ahead.”

  “It won’t work if you hold yourself back. You have to let yourself go, open up to me,” Damon said, moving close to her.

  Her eyes closed, as if she were striving for some control. But when she opened them again to meet his stare, he saw calm acceptance and realized she was ready. For…whatever.

  He began, and this time, he had no doubt. Allie wasn’t playing any games. He recognized the slowness of her breathing, the slight easing of the muscles in her body. He’d seen enough people genuinely hypnotized to know that she, and the rest of tonight’s volunteers, were in a very susceptible state.