How had he known she loved being watched?

  Alejandro swayed with the music in the opposite direction, bringing her body with him. With a gentle caress of her cheek, he directed her gaze back to his—all while making it look like a part of the dance.

  “You know you do,” he murmured. “You love that most every man in the room would kill to have your body against his and an up-close view of that smoldering sensuality melting the ice you wrap yourself in.”

  His words made her shake because they were so true. “Stop.”

  He performed an open step, then brought her back for a box. “Their stares cling to you as you lure them in with the sway of your hips to the beat of the music. They are drawn to your femininity. Their gazes caress your breasts as your chest lifts with every move and breath. They watch the movements of your sleek thighs and wish they could lie between them.”

  A glance around proved he was totally right. Easily a dozen men were openly watching she and Alejandro dance, their gazes ranging from more than mildly interested to sizzling with heat. Desire vibrated deep inside her, pulsing under her clit. How wet could she get before she stained the front of her thin costume?

  And how had Alejandro known exactly what turned her on?

  Most people had only seen the driven dancer who yearned to win and find some way to make her family proud. No one else had seen the woman inside who used dance to express the sexuality she otherwise repressed. No one.

  This man had known her secret in the blink of an eye. He’d all but mocked her chilly reserve. He looked at her as if he could see beyond her façade, to the fear and emptiness that fed her ambition.

  Thankfully, the music ended.

  “Thank you for an interesting evening, Mr. Diaz. Perhaps our paths will cross again.” But not if she could help it.

  Still, he didn’t let go. Instead, he continued to stare with that sultry hint of a smile. “The evening is not over. I bought all of your dances tonight. Every last one.”

  Shanna stared at him, wide eyed and stunned. Panicked. That was bad. Very bad. Just being in his arms and hearing his words made her feel vulnerable in a way she didn’t like and would not tolerate.

  And she was stuck with him for the next three hours? Lord, she was in so much trouble.

  “Why?”

  “I enjoy watching you being watched and the way it arouses you. I love knowing that so many men in the room are fantasizing about slaking their lust with you—”

  “You don’t know what other men are thinking,” she protested.

  “Yes, I do. It is exactly what I’m thinking. It is even more delicious because I alone am holding you in my arms.”

  Oh, god. “This conversation is inappropriate.”

  “Honesty disturbs you?”

  “I’m not…I—I don’t get aroused by knowing that men are watching me.”

  “Really?”

  He urged her into a cross again. No sooner than she turned to step into the next box, he pushed against her hand, sending her spinning to face the wall. Then he was behind her, cradling her swaying hips, his mouth hovering just over her sensitive nape in a darkened corner of the ballroom.

  Shanna shivered as he exhaled on her sensitive flesh and gripped her hips.

  Then he reached around to place his hand flat on her stomach again…but he aimed high, flattening his palm on the upper swells of her chest and smoothing his way down.

  “Hard nipples,” he commented. “Such pretty, edible, want-to-suck-them-in-my-mouth buds.”

  She opened her mouth to stop him with a hiss, but he kept tantalizing her as he caressed his way south, down her ribs, over her stomach, until his fingers brushed the front of her costume right over her very wet sex. He lingered. Shame and arousal crashed inside her. She closed her eyes.

  “You’re always wet when you dance in public…like now, aren’t you?”

  At his touch, his words, pleasure spiked, hitting her full force, like a blast from a raging fire. She sucked in a breath. Damn it, why did he have to be right?

  If he could read her that well after a few minutes with her, Shanna knew he’d quickly dig deeper into her soul unless she put distance between them now.

  “Stop,” she demanded in her best ice-queen voice.

  “Answer me, querida.”

  “No.”

  He danced her to face him again as one song segued into the next, this one a waltz.

  “Do not be embarrassed. Your arousal turns me on. It’s one of the reasons I chose not to give up when you rebuffed me at the Bartolino event. I want that arousal,” he whispered in her ear. “I want it in my hands, my mouth, all around my cock when I fuck you. Will you wonder then exactly who is watching us?”

  His words hit her like lava, sizzling her skin, charring her resistance and sanity. No one had ever talked to her like that. Between her brothers and the bitchiness she wore like armor, no one had dared.

  God, even without uttering a word, Alejandro was stunning. When he murmured that sort of sin, he didn’t just turn her on; he turned her inside out.

  He was dangerous. She could see getting lost in such a man and his smoldering promise of spectacular sex—the kind she’d never experienced.

  “That’s enough,” she forced herself to say.

  “We haven’t started. I think about undressing you under soft lights, your back to my front and letting my hand smooth your dress from your lush curves. I ache to brush my palms over your hard nipples before I roll them between my fingers. I fantasize about feeling my way lower, down to that soft, wet pussy, then grazing your hard clit. And stroking you until you come. I obsess about bending you over and filling you with my cock—all while you suspect the hot stares of strangers rake you. Want you.”

  Desire pulsed, flared with every mental image he created. She could see herself naked, flushed, writhing under his hands or as he impaled her. She could feel herself dissolving at the thought of orgasming for him—and a roomful of aroused men.

  This was dangerous. Bad. Wrong. No, no, no.

  “I said that’s enough!” Her voice shook as hard as the rest of her.

  He kept on, as if she’d never uttered a protest. “I am part owner of a club where you could express yourself in any way you like. In every way that gets you off. Sneak Peek was made for women like you.”

  Sneak Peek? The club where Kristoff’s video had been filmed in his soon-to-be-infamous threesome? That jolted her.

  “I know what goes on there.”

  A smiled toyed with those sensual lips of his. “Good. If we weren’t waltzing now, I would reach between those sleek thighs of yours, and I bet I would find out you’re even wetter now than the last time I touched you.”

  Shanna wanted to lie, but she didn’t trust him not to waltz her in a corner and test his theory.

  “I need to use the ladies’ room.”

  He hesitated, then released her. “By all means.”

  She turned away, resisting the urge to run to the sanctuary of her dressing room. No, she would walk. Calmly. Breathe in, breathe out.

  And screw charity. Yes, Alejandro had paid his money. He’d gotten his dance and his cheap feel, too. He could pat himself on the back, knowing that he’d dug up her naughty secret and rubbed it in her face. She wasn’t coming back. If she ever saw him at one of these charity events again, she’d run in the other direction. Fast.

  Before she could take the first step, he grabbed her wrist and whirled her around. Suddenly off balance, she collided against his chest. Her head snapped back…her mouth right under his.

  “Come to Sneak Peek. There, I will fulfill your every fantasy.”

  Of that, she had no doubt. But no way could she give him that chance.

  3

  “So I’ve got two choices, both really lousy.” Shanna sighed as she stirred her hot tea at the outdoor café’s wrought iron table the next morning. “Either I stick it out and hope this threat is just a sick joke or I dump Kristoff, try to find yet another new partner, and wait a season or two before we mesh well enough to win anything.”

  Jonathan winced. “Don’t you think it’s time you stop dropping partners, love? Your reputation in that area isn’t exactly sparkling.”

  She regarded her former dance partner with a frosty stare. “Ending our partnership was a mutual decision.”

  The handsome Aussie reached for her hand across the table. “The handwriting was on the wall. We weren’t going to make it. I didn’t want to win as badly as you did. And sleeping together was a terrible mistake.”

  Shanna wanted to deny his assertion, but couldn’t. Jonathan simply hadn’t possessed her drive to win. They’d both known it. Their one night of impulsive sex had merely brought their problems to the fore.

  Admittedly, sex between them had been stupid. But a late-night practice, Jonathan suffering a recent break-up with his fiancée, Shanna fearing their days of competing together were numbered, hours upon hours of nothing but sexually-charged dances, with the tension between them so thick… The dam holding their restraint had burst.

  Afterward, their partnership had gone from strained to doomed. Her ambition on the dance floor hadn’t meshed well with his need to check out to deal with his recent turmoil. Belatedly, Shanna had realized he needed more emotional support from a partner than she’d given. Their fights had become hellacious. They’d said terrible things, and he’d walked out.

  In retrospect, the end of their dance partnership had been best for both of them. Jonathan’s fiancée had returned, and he’d retired to married life and modeling. After a few months of silence between them, he’d reached out to her. Over the last eighteen months, they’d repaired their friendship. During that time, Shanna had been happily paired with Kristoff…until she’d seen his porn-inspired deeds.

  “Let’s not rehash ancient history,” Jonathan said. “You came to me with a problem. Are you sleeping with Kristoff?”

  Shanna shook her head. “Of course not. Until I saw the video, I thought he was firmly in the gay column.”

  “At least that’s one less complication.”

  The early-morning breeze whipped through her hair. Shanna looked down into her steaming mug. “I have to decide what to do. I don’t want to lose Kristoff as a partner. Training a new one would take so much time. But if the judges get their hands on that footage…”

  “That would be devastating. The old crones would crucify you. The men…they’d either try to bury or debauch you.”

  “Exactly. I want to strangle Kristoff every time the realization that he’s jeopardized everything hits me.”

  “In the dance department, you’re well-matched. Kristoff is a fabulous athlete who wants to win every bit as badly as you. Admit that much.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I suppose.”

  “Stop,” he demanded. “I know you too well. Everyone else may buy that puffed-up bitch act, but we both know better. It took me years to realize you’re not half as pissed as you are afraid. You’re trembling at the thought of being vulnerable and of not holding that trophy so you can finally prove to your family that you’re a champion. Is Daddy’s opinion really more important than friendship? It’s okay to stand by your friends, even if your family will disapprove.”

  God, he had her number.

  “Have you taken up psychotherapy on the side, Freud?”

  “Just calling your bluff.”

  “I came to you for help, and you’re giving me hell.” She stood and grabbed her paper mug.

  “Sorry,” Jonathan murmured, looking like he wanted to say more on the subject. Mercifully, he didn’t. “Do you have any other information about the video or its delivery that might help you track down the blackmailer? Or did Kristoff know anything about how it was made?”

  “No, I don’t think Kristoff has a clue. But last night, the owner of the sex club in which the footage was filmed tried to seduce me out of my panties. If the event hadn’t been for charity—”

  “You know where this tape was made?”

  She nodded. “A place called Sneak Peek.”

  “The club for voyeurs and exhibitionists?”

  Jonathan knew about that place? “Yes.”

  He sat back in his chair, a taunting smile curling up his mouth. Shanna felt her heart seize. He looked at her as if he knew being watched made her wet. Did he? Did every man who watched her dance?

  Thankfully, he didn’t go there. “So when you danced with this mate, did you talk to him, see what he knows about the video and its creation?”

  “No.” She’d been too busy resisting his seduction, trying to fend off his unnerving ability to see past her defenses.

  “There you go.” He shrugged. “Maybe he can help you track down who’s blackmailing Kristoff.”

  Shanna gripped her tea. Jonathan was right. The answer had been staring her in the face. Alejandro could find out exactly who had filmed Kristoff.

  All she had to do was put herself in his path again and pray she could resist him.

  “I need your help.”

  Alejandro Diaz looked up at the female with the trembling voice hovering in the door of his office. Platinum hair pulled tightly away from her unusually pale face. Blue eyes smudged with the bruises of sleeplessness. Shanna York. Here, in his office.

  Well, didn’t this make his morning interesting?

  “Long trip to the ladies’ room,” he drawled.

  She lifted her chin—her silent way of telling him she would not bend her pride to apologize for having deserted him last night. Alejandro frowned…though he was silently amused.

  “You came on too strong. Again. I needed to put space between us.”

  “And now you do not? Today, I’m supposed to forget that I enjoyed a dance and a half, rather than the eight I paid for.”

  “You gave that money to charity.”

  “To be with you. The charity was the cherry on top.”

  “You paid for the opportunity to dance with me, not seduce me.”

  Why not both? he wanted to ask, but tactically retreated from that line of questioning. Starting a fight with Shanna wasn’t the way to entice her to stay. Raising her hackles would not get him the up close and very personal time he wanted with her.

  “Perhaps I succeeded, since you have come to Sneak Peek because… What was that you said? Ah, yes. You need me.”

  “I’d still be avoiding you if I didn’t need your help,” she shot back. “Which I happen to need now. Please.”

  Hmm. She’d likely choked on that word. Shanna was stubborn and tough and wore her ice like armor. No doubt it warded off most men.

  He was made of stronger stuff.

  Alejandro stood and faced her. “What can I do for you? Take you on a tour? We have great facilities.”

  Her expression softened. “It’s a beautiful place. I was expecting something…”

  “Dark? Sleazy? Dirty?”

  She hesitated. “Glass-and-chrome seedy, yes. This is really…warm.”

  That’s what had attracted him to the house in the beginning. Ali thanked God every time he set foot in the place that his business partner, Del, had agreed with his choice of locations. Its shimmering white plaster walls glowed Hollywood golden when the sun set over the hills of Los Angeles. The expansive gardens had a charming Spanish Revival feel, complete with decorative tile that rimmed the pool and outlined the patio steps leading to the second floor. The bars, both indoors and outdoors, welcomed guests. Converting the house into a club had given it the feel of an intimate party, rather than a bunch of strangers getting naked together. That instant comfort level was one of the reasons he and Del had been so successful since opening Sneak Peek. That and good business sense.

  Alejandro shrugged. “I took one look at the house and fell in love. Cary Grant built it in the 1920’s. The previous owners started restoring it about ten years ago…and ran out of money. Del and I spent a small fortune to buy the place and finish renovating. I have not regretted it.”

  “It’s gorgeous.”

  “As are you. Since it’s clear you are not here for me to seduce, what can I do for you?”

  Her charmed smile disappeared. The tense hand-clasping returned. “My dance partner and I have a…situation. A delicate one. Kristoff has been here, as a customer, right?”

  “I’m not at liberty to answer that. Privacy is something we protect fiercely here at Sneak Peek. I hope you understand.”

  “But that’s just it. Someone invaded his privacy. They filmed him…” She shook her head. “It would be better if I showed you.”

  Alejandro frowned as Shanna reached into an oversized bag hanging from her shoulder and extracted a flash drive in a clear plastic case. She handed it to him, her expression tense. He popped it into his laptop.

  Two and a half minutes later, anger boiled his blood.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “Someone left it in my dressing room last night just before the benefit began, along with a note telling me that if we competed in the upcoming California Dance Star, this footage will be sent to all the judges.”

  “And neither you nor Kristoff have any idea who sent it?”

  She shook her head. “That’s why I’m here. I was hoping you could help me. That competition means…everything to me. I’ve worked years to win this.”

  As driven as she was, as ambitious as rumor painted her, Ali believed it. She had dumped three partners in the last five years. One after breaking his leg badly skiing just before dance season began. The next partner had been history when he dropped her during a lift—in the middle of a competition. The third…he was a mystery. There one day, gone the next. Alejandro’s mother had the pulse on all her favorite and not-so-favorite dancers. Mamá said there had been rumors of a torrid—but brief—affair between she and Jonathan Smythe.

  Alejandro extracted the flash drive, slotted it back in its case, and handed it to her. “There are absolutely no still or video cameras allowed in the club. Period. That is part of our strict privacy policy.”