came to an abrupt stop, though her partner didn’t seem to notice and kept on dancing. “Des couldn’t be more exasperating if he tried, and I sometimes suspect he does.”
“You got it.”
Tess knew that Kit’s aim in bringing one of the ranch hands to her party and dressing like she had almost every day of her life since she’d gotten out of diapers was to flout tradition and embarrass her sisters. But what Kit didn’t realize was that she looked better in her jeans and T-shirt than half the women at the party whose dresses had come from Neiman Marcus. And a cursory glance at the crowd showed her that at least three of her single friends and two of the married ones were openly salivating over Kit’s date.
Kit hooked her thumbs in her pockets and flashed Tess’s dance partner a smile that revealed a perfect set of dimples. “Who’s your date, Sis?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea.”
Kit’s eyebrows rose. “Cool,” she said, her tone for once sincere. Then she danced away.
The man laughed, a deep chuckle.
Drawing away from him, she looked at him. “Is there some reason you won’t tell me your name? Like maybe you’re at the top of the FBI’s Most Wanted list?”
“No.”
“Then tell me.”
He shrugged. “The thing is, I doubt my name will mean anything to you.”
She exhaled a long breath, reaching for patience. “Why don’t you let me decide that? I’m tired of this little game you’re playing. Tell me or I’m going to walk away.”
A slow smile spread across his face, this smile even more powerful than his last. “Ah…a threat from the birthday girl.”
She refused to be affected by his smile, though she could feel the futility of her resistance as it slipped by the moment. “Are you or are you not going to tell me?”
“Nick Trejo. My name is Nick Trejo.”
The name sounded vaguely familiar, but for the life of her, she couldn’t place it. “Okay, you’re right. It doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“I didn’t think it would.”
“Uh-huh. Okay. Let me try another tack. How did you know about this party tonight?”
“I’ve made it my business to find out as much as possible about you.”
Suddenly cautious, she stared at him, wondering if she could figure him out if she stared at him long enough. But no. He wasn’t giving anything away—not by expression, and certainly not by words.
“Don’t worry. I’m not a stalker.”
“No? Then, Nick Trejo, I think it’s past time you told me what you want.”
“That’s easy,” he said, pulling her against him while his amber gaze held steady on her. “I want peace on earth, food and shelter enough for every living being, but right now I’m satisfied just to be dancing with you.” His voice turned raspy. “You feel good against me. You fit me.”
One minute he had her regarding him with caution, the next he had her melting with heat. And she couldn’t very well protest or say she didn’t understand what he was saying, since from the beginning of their dance, her body had involuntarily molded itself to his and there had been nothing she could do about it.
One song had stopped. Another had begun. An intimate cloud of music settled around the party and mingled with the night’s scents to mesmerize, tantalize. But it all paled in comparison to him.
“Did I tell you that you look beautiful?”
She couldn’t remember if he had or not. In fact, she was having trouble remembering anything. It was as if he had taken her over, body, mind and soul. She wasn’t used to being called beautiful, and she certainly had never thought of herself that way. Not with Jill as a sister.
Abruptly, she tore herself from his arms. “I need something to drink.”
“It’s your party,” he said mildly. “I imagine you can have anything you want.”
“You’re right.” Fully aware that he was following her, she threaded her way through the dancers, a smile pasted on her face for her friends, but barely acknowledging their comments.
“A shot of whiskey with a beer chaser, please,” she told the bartender as soon as she reached the bar. It was a unique request for her, but tonight she felt the need for something stronger than her usual beer. She glanced at Nick. “What would you like?”
“Since I’m not an official guest at the party, I wouldn’t presume.”
She gave a short laugh. “More than you have already, you mean? Give me a break. You’ve already crashed the party. What’s one drink?” She glanced at the bartender. “Give him the same thing, please.” She couldn’t see a man like Nick Trejo drinking anything else, certainly not the margaritas that were flowing more freely than water tonight.
Nick shook his head at the bartender, then returned his gaze to her. “I hate to tell you this, Tess, but I truly haven’t yet started to presume. Believe me when I say you’ll know when I do.”
Jill walked to the bar. “A margarita, please. Tess, have you heard anything from Des since we last talked?”
“No.” She’d been dealing with Nick, trying to retain her mental balance while she played his guessing game. At the same time, she’d been fighting to keep her body from completely betraying how much she had enjoyed being held against him. And it had all taken more out of her than she had realized, leaving her with zero patience for Jill and her preoccupation with landing Des.
“Okay.” Jill threw an assessing gaze at Nick, then at her. “I think I’ll try to locate him by phone.”
“Fine. Do that. And be sure to mention how much I’ve missed him tonight.” Even though she knew Jill would ignore her request, she’d thrown it in to nettle her sister.
For the first time in what seemed hours, she forced herself to draw a deep breath and look away from Nick. A quick assessment of her party showed her that it was going strong, but she caught several surreptitious glances from some of her closer friends, and she knew why. They’d never before seen her allow one man to monopolize her time as she had with Nick. Except there had been no allowing on her part. He was like a force that she had no defenses against. It was past time she rectified that.
The bartender placed her requested shot of whiskey and mug of beer in front of her. She picked up the whiskey, but sipped.
“Okay, Nick, I’m ready to admit it. You’ve got me completely baffled. Why on earth do you want to see me and why here? If it’s about business—and it must be, since we haven’t met before tonight, and you’ve assured me you aren’t a stalker—why didn’t you simply call my office and make an appointment?”
“Let’s step away from the bar,” Nick murmured, taking the shot glass from her and setting it on the bar. Then, with his hand at her elbow, he led
