Seduce Me

of others did-going out as a legend in his own time.

She imagined his reticence was because everywhere he went, people fawned over him, or just talked about him, as they were doing now, as if he wasn't in the room.

This was crazy. Jack Scandal Knight, holding her hand, pulling her along.

'Jack, tell us when you're coming back to the game.'

Jack sighed and squeezed her hand. 'Sorry, but I have to say something or they'll never leave us alone.' He turned to the group of reporters on their right. Ten mikes were immediately shoved in his face. Flashes went off. 'I had a great run,' he said. 'I loved every minute of it, but I'm not coming back to the game. I'm here to support this evening's charity, which gives money and attention to underprivileged kids.' He smiled, held still for another moment for pictures, then backed away.

Sam moved with him, wondering how his life had changed since he'd stopped playing. Given the expert weave and bob he was executing, it hadn't changed much. He didn't want the press around him, he didn't want any attention at all. There was something… cute about that.

If one could call a six-foot-six, tough-as-nails, hard-as-rock man cute.

In the middle of the large room now, he took a deep breath, and when a group of men came up to him, not reporters, but guests, Jack shook their hands warmly.

'How's retirement?' one asked. 'Great?'

'How could it not be?' Jack answered. 'And how are you all doing tonight?'

Everyone murmured their answer, then someone said to Jack, 'What are you doing with yourself these days?'

'Keeping busy, that's for sure. Who's actually played golf here? Is it any good?'

It went on like that for a few minutes, with Jack dodging and deflecting. She could see how private he was, and she wondered how a man like that dealt with such public pressure.

After a few minutes, Jack excused them and led her away. They passed a waiter holding a large tray of champagne. 'Thank God.' He let go of her hand to grab two flutes, one of which he handed to her. Then he let out a long sigh and clinked his glass lightly against hers. 'To the best evening we can make out of this.'

'Well, we've done pretty good so far.'

'Yeah.' A genuine smile touched his lips. 'We sure have. And I think most of the press actually left after their photo op. Thanks for being so patient.'

Around them, the crowd tightened, closing in a little, and she was forced into him. 'Sorry,' she murmured, backing away to give him some room, only to bump into a couple behind her, nearly spilling her drink.

'Come here,' Jack said softly, sliding his free hand down the length of her arm, entwining his fingers through hers. Shifting their connected hands to the small of her back, he gently urged her forward and once again into him.

Now her hips were cradled rather intimately with his, her breasts brushing his chest. The connection came on like a strong jolt, and her gaze flew up to his.

Jack felt it, too; she could see the heat in the dark depths of his eyes reflected back at her. 'So maybe,' he murmured, 'the toast should be to the rest of the evening.'

'Yes…' Dipping her head, she took a sip from her flute to cover her confusion at her unusually strong reaction to him, but then caught a movement over his shoulder. 'Mob closing in at two o'clock.'

He swore, tossed his champagne down his throat and ditched the glass on a different waiter's empty tray before getting them on the move again.

They headed toward the band, who'd struck up a Seventies disco beat. The lights went down and at least ten disco balls lowered from the ceiling swirling and sending flashes of light into every corner.

'Join us for disco hour,' the band leader said into his microphone. 'And at eight o'clock, we'll move into the Eighties.'

The crowd perked up, and many moved toward the dance floor.

Sam looked at the colored lights, at the people starting to move to the beat, and nerves leaped into her throat. Surely Jack wouldn't expect her to dance in these ridiculous heels and tight dress…

He stopped at the edge of the dance floor, thank God. They could just watch-

'Okay. I think it's safe here,' he said. 'Quick, gaze into my eyes like I'm the only man you see. Maybe that'll keep everyone away.'

She laughed, but dutifully looked into his eyes. 'Like you're the only man I see? And how does one give that kind of a look?'

He blinked, then laughed, too. 'Actually, I haven't a clue.'

'Uh-oh.' She winced. 'Sorry to tell you, there are three men in cheap suits holding cameras, making their move.'

'Damn.' Grabbing her hands, Jack pulled her onto the dance floor, then glanced back at the photographers stymied at the side of the room. Heather swiftly moved in and shifted them out of sight, winking at Jack over her shoulder.

Jack smiled down at Sam. 'Better.'

They were surrounded by couples gyrating to the music. 'Unless you know something else we can do out here,' she said, 'we actually have to dance.' She could surf wave after wave, she could stand on the counter of her cafe and sing at the top of her lungs when the mood struck her, but swaying in time to the music was hard. She had no rhythm.

With a smoothness that startled her, Jack slid one arm around her waist, took her free hand in his and pulled her toward him. 'Dancing works for me.'

'Wait-' The air rushed out of her when she came up against his big, warm, hard body. He felt good, and that was before he began to sway in perfect time to the music. She stared at him. 'You know how to do this?'

In the dark, his smile flashed white. 'Why the surprise?'

Because athletes, famous ones, were usually good at only one thing-their sport. But he had rhythm, good rhythm, and moves that made her mind wander into areas she hadn't expected to go this evening.

'What's the matter?' he asked when she stood there in his arms, stiff and unmoving.

What was the matter? Nothing, except that she felt like an idiot. For all her wild days in her crazy youth, she'd never really gotten comfortable with this elementary skill. She'd never wanted to. But she had a gorgeous man holding her in his arms, his entire attention focused on her as they tried to forget the world around them, and she really did want to help him forget. In any other way except this.

He dipped his head down a little, ran his jaw over hers. 'Sam?'

She could sense the firmness of his body. She could even feel his heart beating, strong and steady, and she stared up at him, one arm around his neck, her other hand entangled in his, absorbing the strength of his fingers at the small of her back, the pressure of his hips swaying gently against hers. Her body reacted, hormones revved, bones melted…

How did a man who palmed a basketball for a living get to be so sensual?

'Sam? You still with me?'

'It's just that dancing seems so… cliched.'

'Cliched,' he repeated. 'Dancing on a dance floor is cliched?'

'Yes. I'm sure we could find something else to do.' Anything…

'Like…?'

'Um, like…' She searched her brain, feeling a little disoriented by the pulsating lights from the disco balls. 'I don't know. You think of something.'

'No, I think you'd better.' His eyes were deep and dark, his hands gentle on her, and also, whether he intended it not, unbearably erotic. 'Because suddenly, with you looking at me like that, I can't seem to think of anything appropriate.'

Well, neither could she! In fact, a bunch of inappropriate thoughts kept bouncing through her head, and her body slid even closer to his.

Now what? She knew what her body would like, and her hand glided over his chest, her fingers curling into him.

'Sam-'

The lights went down even more, so that all they could see were the silhouette of the people dancing around