He was too close. Liz tried to ease away and found his arms very solid. In spite of her determination to remain unmoved, her heart began to thud lightly in her head. “I don’t have time for anything else.”

She wore no perfume, he noted, but carried the scent of powder and spice. He wondered if her body would look as delicate as it felt against his. “It sounds as though you limit yourself.”

“I have a business to run,” she murmured. Would it be the same if he kissed her again? Sweet, overpowering. His lips were so close to hers, closer still when he ran his hand through her hair and drew her head back. She could almost taste him.

“Is making money so important?”

“It has to be,” she managed, but could barely remember why. “I need to buy some aqua bikes.”

Her eyes were soft, drowsy. They made him feel invulnerable. “Aqua bikes?”

“If I don’t keep up with the competition…” He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“The competition?” he prompted.

“I…the customers will go someplace else. So I…” The kiss teased the other corner.

“So?”

“I have to buy the bikes before the summer season.”

“Of course. But that’s weeks away. I could make love with you dozens of times before then. Dozens,” he repeated as she stared at him. Then he closed his mouth over hers.

He felt her jolt—surprise, resistance, passion—he couldn’t be sure. He only knew that holding her had led to wanting her and wanting to needing. By nature, he was a man who preferred his passion in private, quiet spots of his own choosing. Now he forgot the crowded club, loud music and flashing lights. They no longer swayed, but were hemmed into a corner of the dance floor, surrounded, pressed close. Oblivious.

She felt her head go light, heard the music fade. The heat from his body seeped into hers and flavored the kiss. Hot, molten, searing. Though they stood perfectly still, Liz had visions of racing. The breath backed up in her lungs until she released it with a shuddering sigh. Her body, coiled like a spring, went lax on a wave of confused pleasure. She strained closer, reaching up to touch his face. Abruptly the music changed from moody to rowdy. Jonas shifted her away from flailing arms.

“Poor timing,” he murmured.

She needed a minute. “Yes.” But she meant it in a more general way. It wasn’t a matter of time and place, but a matter of impossibility. She started to move away when Jonas’s grip tightened on her. “What is it?” she began, but only had to look at his face.

Cautiously, she turned to see what he stared at. A woman in a skimpy red dress stared back at him. Liz recognized the shock in her eyes before the woman turned and fled, leaving her dance partner gaping.