It’s a throwaway line, shit I’ve said to women in clubs and bars all across the planet, but something flashes in Kennedy’s eyes. Kennedy Carlisle’s big blue eyes go dark with an emotion I can’t decipher, and she sucks in her breath like I’ve hit a nerve.

For all I know, I have. The air between us has tensed, almost as if all the oxygen has been sucked away. Even if it was silent in the club, I would still be deafened by how loud my own heart is beating. All it took was that stiffening in her back, the appearance of that unreadable expression in her eyes, and I’m struck by a new desperation to know more about her.

This is more than some stupid bet with Adam, a voice whispers in the back of my mind.

And what did I say? “I’m concerned that if you don’t dance with me, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” I have a funny sensation in my chest that if she doesn’t dance with me, I will be the one regretting it for the rest of my life.

“What do you know about—?” She cuts herself off, looking away for a brief instant, her long eyelashes shading her eyes, and then she looks back at me, this time confident and assured. “You know what? Fine. I’ll dance with you.”

“We don’t have to—”

“Oh, now you’ve changed your mind?” Her jaw is set in a determined line. Then she leans in to me. “Are you really going to make me climb all the way around this absurdly large booth?”

How could a woman who’s so fiery be the wallflower? I only have time for the thought to cross my mind before she’s practically straddling me, pushing me out of the booth. Or at least she would be if I didn’t spend time every morning in the gym for this reason—to guarantee that I’m always ready for a real adventure.

I step out of the booth, and she’s right behind me, tugging her dress down. She’s even abandoned her glass of Coke on the table.

I edge toward the dance floor, but I can sense that she’s still standing in place, not following me. When I turn around, she’s reaching up to pat her palms against her hair, which is its own work of art, the soft curls pulled back into a structured spill at the back of her head. She might have been all bravado a moment ago, but there’s a little tremble in her hands that gives her away.

It’s dare after dare with her. Adam might as well have had nothing to do with this. I have the sense that if I back down, that if I offer her an out right now, she might retreat back to that booth and this—whatever this encounter is—will be over.

So I up the ante. I offer her my hand like we’re about to go ballroom dancing. There it is again—that lift of her chin, a flash of defiance in her eyes, and she slaps her palm down on mine.

I tug her toward the dance floor, pretending not to notice the heat ebbing between our hands, the way the electric sensation of touching her—even just her hand—is making my heart throb with excitement. More than my heart is excited and throbbing with an increase of blood flow, but this isn’t the moment to reveal that to Kennedy.

Kennedy. I repeat her name over and over in my mind, relishing the fact that I know it at all.

Who the hell have I turned into in the last fifteen minutes?

Kennedy Carlisle shouldn’t feel like a risk to me. It shouldn’t be such a rush to have talked her into dancing with me. I’m not even sure that I did. But something I said made her change her mind.

Then we’re part of the crowd, bodies surging all around us, and she starts to move.

Kennedy Carlisle might not like dancing. Kennedy might not even want to dance now. But none of that stops her from being, by far, the most sensual, intoxicating, and erotically enticing dancer I’ve ever seen.

She closes her eyes, lithely moving her arms above her head, swaying her hips with the bass of the music, and I feel like I’m tipping over the edge of the Grand Canyon, falling hard into her orbit. The way she shifts her body underneath that little black dress makes it look like she’s totally at home becoming one with the music, totally comfortable, totally in control.

Then she opens her eyes. When our gazes lock again, she misses a beat.

But I’m not willing to let this moment end, and I move in close to her, sliding one hand onto her hip and moving us both with the beat again. She recovers, raising her chin an inch, and takes a big breath in.

It’s different, out here in the middle of the crowd. It’s the two of us in a little space that’s only ours, even though we’re surrounded by at least one bachelorette party and a sea of other people dressed like tonight is the night they’re finally going to get shadowed by the paparazzi on the way out.

We move together, Kennedy’s arm settling tentatively on my shoulder. I can feel every breath she takes.

“I never do this.” She says it softly, but we’re so close that I catch the words over the music.

“Never do what? Go to the club? I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Dance with strangers.”

I smile down into her face, and she answers with her own tentative smile. “I’m not really a stranger. You know my name.”

“Gideon Hawke.” She says it again like she’s tasting it on her tongue. “I don’t know anything else about you, other than that you’re—you’re very wealthy. And you like to do risky things.”

“What risky things do you wish you could do?” I put my other hand in hers and spin her, still moving with the music, so that her back is the barest inch away from my chest, and lean down to whisper into her ear. “You never dance with strange men—what else have you avoided doing all your life?”

She gives a strange little laugh. “Avoided?”

“Nobody chooses not to dance with someone like me.”

“You’re very modest.”

“You’re very beautiful.”

She takes another quick little breath and turns back to me, putting both hands around my neck, her hips rolling and dipping with the music. It’s pure sex, and it’s starting to drive me wild. “Skydiving.”

“What?”

“You asked me what risky things I might like to do. I’d like to be able to say that I went skydiving.”

“But you don’t actually want to do it.”

“Who the hell would want to jump out of a plane? Other than you?”

I laugh out loud, and she joins in.

“What else? There’s more, Kennedy Carlisle, and I’m dying to know. What other risks have you always wanted to take?”