“No kidding? What brought you to Colson?”
“Allergies,” Victoria answered, her voice husky from the effort to breathe normally when he turned her smoothly to the music, his thigh sliding briefly against hers. She lifted her gaze to his and found she couldn’t look away. The sound of the music and the crowd around them faded. At the advanced age of twenty-seven, after the usual round of dating and one semiserious involvement during college, Victoria found herself confronted for the first time by an overwhelming, mind-scrambling, female reaction to a male. Her skin felt flushed; her heart was beating twice its normal rate; her breath came faster as she took short, shallow breaths and with each inhalation, drew in the distinctly male scent of aftershave warmed by body heat.
“Allergies?” Quinn said disbelievingly. He took a slow, thorough inventory of her body from the top of her silky head to her small feet. “That’s hard to believe. I’ve never seen anyone who looked healthier.”
Victoria, who had perfected the art of squelching interested males with one well-aimed, frigid stare, felt his sea-green gaze stroke over her as if he’d brushed his hand up and down her body and realized with amazement that she was blushing like a teenager.
“Thank you, but unfortunately, it’s true,” she managed to get out. “I have severe allergies.”
“Really? To what?”
“Almost everything that grows in and around Seattle,” she answered promptly, “especially pine trees and Scotch broom.”
“What’s a Scotch broom?” Quinn asked. He didn’t really care, but he wanted to keep her talking. The slightly husky tones of her voice feathered over his skin in soft, enticing strokes.
“It’s not a real broom,” she laughed, her blue eyes lighting with amusement. “It’s a plant.”
“Then why do they call it a broom?” he asked, bemused by the way her whole face lit up when she smiled.
“I have no idea. It was planted along the Washington State highways years ago. It spread like wildfire and now, every spring when it blooms, thousands of allergy sufferers, like me, are absolutely miserable.”
“Well, we don’t have Scotch broom here, so you should be safe,” he commented. “At least from the plant life.”
His mouth tilted in a lazy grin while his gaze moved slowly over her face to fasten intently on her mouth. That hot green stare returned to meet hers with such blatant intent that Victoria caught her breath.
She didn’t doubt for a minute that he was dangerous. Not to mention the fact that he was clearly a cowboy, and she’d learned not to trust the breed during summers spent in Colson as a teenager. But being held close to him was so exhilarating that her blood fizzed as if she’d had an infusion of champagne bubbles. She hated the lack of control over her life that her health had forced her to accept. She’d opted for serious and safe all her life; suddenly she was tired of safe and sane. Besides, even her cousin, Lonna, had told her she needed to lighten up and learn to have fun.
So when Quinn’s arm tightened a fraction, gently urging her closer, Victoria allowed it, giving in to the need to feel the heat of his body against hers. She’d never thought of herself as a particularly sensual woman, but Quinn stirred and heightened an awareness of her own body and an irresistible curiosity for the feel of his that she couldn’t deny.
He tucked her close, his cheek resting lightly against her hair, his breath gently stirring the silky strands.
“Maybe someone should warn you away from the animal life in Colson.”
His voice was a husky murmur of sound in her ear. Victoria shivered with awareness.
“What kind of animal life?”
“Beckman, for one.”
“Oh.”
“If you were dancing with him in this dark corner, he’d be kissing you by now.”
“Ah. But I’m not dancing with Mr. Beckman,” she said lightly, trying to ignore the heavy thud of her heart and the press of his chest against her breasts, the heavy muscles of his thighs flexing smoothly against hers as they swayed together. “I’m dancing with you.”
“That’s not exactly safe, either.”
“Really? Why?”
He turned his head and close-shaven though he was, still she felt the slight rasp of masculine, beard-roughened skin against her cheek.
“Because I’m having a lot of trouble remembering why I shouldn’t be kissing you myself.” He said bluntly.
Victoria’s nerves jumped. “Oh?” She turned her cheek and found his lips a whisper from hers. Bewildered by the breathless, hot reaction that swept her, she wondered dazedly if this instant physical connection was what romantics meant when they talked about love at first sight, or if the overwhelming affinity she felt was only her hormones reacting to his male chemistry.
Quinn saw the heat that flushed her fair skin and the sensual lethargy that lowered thick lashes over her drowsy blue eyes. Her body was delicate and infinitely feminine in his arms. A swift surge of unfamiliar emotion rocked him as a sudden flash of insight told him she fit against him as if her curves had been carved purposely to accommodate the harder angles of his own body.
“That didn’t sound like no,” he murmured, his voice husky with restraint.
“No, it didn’t, did it?” she whispered.
Quinn didn’t ask again. The need to feel her mouth under his was overwhelming. He tilted his head and his lips found the soft, outer corner of hers. She gasped softly, one swift indrawn breath that parted her lips, and he brushed his mouth along the lower curve of hers, tracing its velvety softness and beyond to the opposite corner before he carefully settled his mouth over hers, slowly fitting them seamlessly together.
Shielded from the other dancers by Quinn’s broad shoulders, Victoria was adrift in a world bounded by Quinn’s arms and the magic of his warm mouth wooing hers.
The sudden cessation of the music and the bandleader’s voice announcing a break was a rude intrusion.
Quinn reluctantly lifted his mouth from hers, his brain foggy with desire. “The music stopped.”
Victoria’s senses were on overload. She’d never before been so aware of the differences between male and female. His arms wrapped around her, gently crushing the softer curved lines of her body against the harder planes of his. Distracted by the press of his body and the pleasantly abrasive brush of worn denim where his long legs aligned with her own bare limbs below the hem of her skirt, it took a long moment before she registered his words.
“Oh.” She glanced over his shoulder. The dance floor was slowly emptying, couples retreating to booths and tables.
Quinn reluctantly released her waist, catching her hand in his. “I’ll take you back to your table. Are you here with somebody?”
“Just my cousin.” Victoria pointed across the room before smoothing a hand self-consciously over her hair. Her fingers twined in his, she started across the room.
The booth that had held only Nikki and Victoria when Quinn first saw her was crowded now. Quinn nodded to Doug Akers, SueAnne Gibbs, Nikki and Lonna Denning.
“There you are, Victoria,” Lonna said. “I’m sorry that it took so long to get our drinks, but I was delayed by a friend who insisted that I dance with him.”
“That’s all right,” Victoria replied. “I was dancing myself.” She looked up at Quinn. He looked back, his green gaze going molten, and for a moment, she forgot that anyone else was present.
“Jeez, Quinn,” Nikki blurted, her eyes round with surprise. “What are you doing with her—she’s an attorney!”
Victoria laughed at the redhead’s blunt