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she
needed. The gentle strains of Skynard fell into her ears, the
country blues strains of Simple Kind of Man .
    Slowly her hips moved back and forth and as
she twirled all by herself, there in the shadows, her mind rolled
back and for a moment she was confused. Was it the booze? Was she
that drunk?
    Arms slid around her waist, hard arms—male
arms—and she relaxed into the embrace, her eyes closed as the
haunting melody infiltrated her mind and soul.
    “Shane,” she murmured, her head falling
back.
    “Baby you can call me anything you want.” The
voice was gravelly. Unfamiliar.
    Bobbi’s eyes flew open and she stiffened, her
fingers trying to pry the man’s hands from around her waist. Heat
burned through her cheeks when she realized his groin was pressed
right up against her butt.
    He chuckled in her ear and managed to turn
them away from the room so that they faced the DJ booth, and
Bobbi’s panic began to rise when she realized exactly just how
excited this guy was. She could feel it—through her raw silk
skirt.
    “Let me go,” she said carefully. It was dark
here and no one could see what was happening real well. And that’s
if they were looking.
    He just laughed a low, menacing growl, and
his hands crept up toward her chest, kick-starting panic, anger and
frustration.
    She tried to wrench herself from his grasp,
hating when he laughed again and murmured, “This dress is a little
slippery, just like you.”
    “Take your hands off her and step back.”
    Bobbi froze when she heard the voice and it
only managed to confuse her more than she already was. Note to
self: Please don’t pound back three doubles and a couple shots of
tequila on an empty stomach.
    The man who held her only tightened his grip,
cursing when she stomped on his foot, the wrong end of her four
inch Manolos hitting the top but good.
    “Back off, asshole,” he muttered. “We’re
having a private party so I suggest you—”
    But then the words were cut off as he was
hauled backward—taking Bobbi along with him—and she barely managed
to stay on her feet as the guy’s grip fell away and he landed on
his ass in the middle of the dance floor.
    Time rolled away as Bobbi pushed her hair off
her face and stared up into the eyes of the one man she’d been
avoiding for the last four months. The one man who’d stolen her
heart years ago and then crushed it in less time than it took to
walk out of this bar and not look back.
    “Bobbi,” Shane said as he stepped forward,
his tall frame draped in leather and denim. His voice was as smooth
as the whiskey she’d just downed and the sound of it triggered all
sorts of things inside her. Hot things. Fierce things.
    Painful things .
    He sported a few days worth of stubble across
his strong chin, and thick espresso colored hair that was still on
the long side—not exactly badass, but not exactly GQ either. His
dark eyes regarded her with a blank expression and that little box
inside her—the one that held Shane close, the one she never
opened—expanded and then relaxed.
    The fierce and hot things inside her withered
away to nothing. She fucking hated that blank look. It was the same
damn look he’d been giving her ever since he had shown up in New
Waterford the previous fall.
    Danny popped out from behind the bar and
stood a few feet away, his eyes grim as he glared at her. At least
his expression wasn’t blank. Nope. She had no problem reading what
was going on inside his head.
    Danny’s thoughts were spelled out loud and
clear. Trouble .
    In that moment there was a lot of things she
could have said and hell, some of them could even have made sense.
But as Shane Gallagher’s dark eyes moved over her slowly, starting
at the top of her head and then finishing at the bottom of her
toes, she said the only thing she could think of—which didn’t make
much sense at all.
    She squared her shoulders and lifted her
chin. “It’s Vera fucking Wang, in case you were wondering.”

Chapter