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Murmuring, "Thank you for the dance," she pulled her hand from his and all but ran out of the Crypt. She knew it was only her imagination, but she could have sworn she heard the sound of his amused laughter following her all the way home.
Daisy thought about Erik all the next day. In the shower. In the kitchen. At her computer. At the post office. His beguiling image seemed branded in her mind. The sound of his voice, low and sensual, played over and over in her head, as relentless as the theme from "It's a Small World" at Disneyland, although there had been nothing childish or fanciful in the way Erik's decidedly deep masculine voice had caressed her. Just thinking about him made butterflies dance in the pit of her stomach and brought a flush to her cheeks.
Admit it, Daisy thought, you're as giddy as a high school girl with her first serious crush.
She wished her best friend and confidante, Jennifer, still lived in LA, because she definitely needed someone to talk to about Erik, but Jennifer had married the love of her life last month, and after an extended honeymoon in Europe, would be moving to France with her new husband.
Daisy found herself daydreaming about a honeymoon with Erik while she did her laundry. She imagined the two of them in a romantic villa in Italy, walking along the canals, riding in a gondola, being serenaded by a handsome gondolier.
Later, she went outside to water the yard. What would Erik think of her home? It wasn't a very big place, certainly not very grand, but it was hers, a small two-story house painted white with bright yellow trim. In the spring and summer and sometimes into the fall, fat yellow roses bloomed on either side of the walkway. She didn't have much luck with other flowers, but her roses made her proud.
She thought about Erik while she ate dinner, and while putting her dishes in the dishwasher. Drat the man; no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get him, or the sensual allure of his voice, out of her head. She tried to tell herself he couldn't be as gorgeous as she remembered, that his voice hadn't been that deep, that his touch hadn't been any different from any other man's. But to no avail.
Irritated with herself because she couldn't concentrate on anything else, she decided the only solution was to see him again and prove to herself that she had exaggerated the comeliness of both his appearance and his appeal. With that thought in mind, she changed into a pair of navy slacks and a white sweater and headed for the Crypt.
The nightclub was even more crowded tonight than it had been on Friday. Every booth was taken; the dance floor was jam packed; it was standing room only at the bar.
Daisy walked around the edge of the club, her gaze sweeping the sea of humanity, when her good sense returned. What on earth was she doing here, looking for some man she knew nothing about? And what if he was as drop-dead gorgeous as she remembered? She had met lots of good-looking men. Even dated a few. If there was one thing she had learned, it was that a handsome visage didn't always guarantee a pleasing personality.
With a shake of her head, Daisy started toward the exit. For months, her mother had been trying to set her up with "a nice young man." Irene O'Donnell had met Kevin O'Reilly at the local pub last Saint Patrick's Day and was convinced that Kevin was the perfect man for her only daughter.
Daisy sighed. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe it was time to leave LA, go back to Boston, meet Mr. Perfect, settle down, and give her parents grandchildren.
And maybe not.
She was almost at the door when a deep male voice sounded from behind her.
"I was hoping to see you again."
Seven words that made Daisy's heart skip a beat and stirred a slow heat in the pit of her stomach that quickly ignited an answering fire in her loins. Flushed with anticipation, her handbag clutched tightly in one hand, she turned, ever so slowly, to face him.
He was just as handsome as she remembered. His eyes were just as dark, his smile just as devastating. Tonight he wore a thigh-length black leather coat over a dark green shirt and khaki pants.
Canting his head to one side, he held out his hand. "I think they're playing our song."
She hadn't even realized the band was playing, or that it was the same tune they had performed the night before. With no thought to refuse, Daisy dropped her handbag on a recently vacated table, then stepped into Erik's embrace as if she had been doing it all her life. The music was slow, with a deeply sensual beat that made her think of sweat-slick flesh and satin sheets.
Erik's gaze warmed her cheeks, and when he drew her body against his, every rational thought fled her mind. As she had the night before, Daisy followed his lead as if they had danced together a hundred times instead of only two. He was remarkably light on his feet for such a big man. Once, she glanced down to make sure his feet were touching the floor.
Daisy searched her mind for something witty to say to break the taut silence between them, but to no avail. She couldn't think coherently, not when he was holding her so close. He smelled of sandalwood and leather, two scents she knew she would forever associate with him in the future.
The song ended and another began.
His arm tightened around her waist, drawing her closer. "You never told me your name."
"What? Oh, it's Daisy."
A slow smile spread over his lips. "Daisy," he murmured with a nod. "A fair flower indeed."
His compliment as much as his smile brought a warm flush to her cheeks. His hand moved lightly up and down her spine, eliciting tiny sparks of excitement.
When the music ended, he led her off the dance floor. After retrieving her handbag, he led her toward the back of the club, obviously in search of an empty booth. There were none. Holding Daisy's hand, Erik stopped beside a booth occupied by two middle-aged men in business suits. No words were exchanged, but the men took one look at Erik and practically tripped over their feet as they vacated the booth and hurried away.
Daisy looked at Erik, wondering if she had missed something.
"After you," he said, gesturing for her to take a seat.
"I really can't stay," Daisy remarked as she scooted into the booth.
"Sure you can." His dark eyes glowed with amusement as he slid in beside her. "After all, you came here looking for me, didn't you?"
Heat bloomed in her cheeks. "Of course not!"
He lifted one expressive black brow. "No?"
"No."
"All right, little flower. Have it your way."
"You didn't come here looking for me, did you?"
"As a matter of fact, I did."
Flustered by his answer, she could only stare at him. She didn't have a lot of experience with men. Because she was their only daughter, her parents had always been overly protective of her. The boys had been able to do pretty much whatever they wanted, but not Daisy. They had refused to let her date until she was sixteen, and then only once a week. Daisy had always believed it was due to the escapades of her two brothers that her parents insisted on meeting the young men she went out with. Not only did they insist the guys she dated call for her at the house, but they insisted they pick her up at the door. No honking the horn, or waiting in the car. Not only that, but her parents had given her a stringent midnight curfew. Daisy had argued that whatever she could do after midnight, she could do before midnight, but that hadn't swayed her mom and dad in the least. They had enforced the curfew until she turned eighteen. She had only had two serious relationships since then. The first had come to a screeching halt when she went to Stan's apartment and found him in bed with another woman; the second had ended when Blake refused to take no for an answer. Daisy's adamant refusal to go to bed with him had surprised them both. The night she had gone to Blake's condo, she had been certain she was ready to bid farewell to her virginity, certain that she wanted Blake to be the one to show her what all the fuss was about, but when the time came, she just couldn't do it. And it was all her mother's fault. If a man really loves you, her mother had said, he will never ask you to surrender your virtue outside of marriage. Remember, once the deed is done, it can't be undone.
