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some spark, doesn't there?” Taylor challenged weakly.

"Spark?” Cade cursed. He dragged a hand through his unruly hair. “If you felt the full force of my spark, sweetheart, you'd run a mile."

"I would not,” she denied.

"Hell, you would. That spark was ... hot damn it."

"Look, I think I should go.” See, you are running. Taylor ignored her subconscious. “This is a bad idea,” she said and gathered up her bag—carefully this time. With as much dignity as she could muster, she turned to leave. “I'm sorry."

She sucked in a deep breath, steeling herself for the crowd outside and nodded curtly at Cade. “Goodbye.” She reached for the door.

"Where are you going?” Cade's sharp tone brought her to a halt, and she shot him a “what do you care” look over her shoulder.

"Home."

"How?"

"I'll call a cab."

But before she had a chance to stall him, Cade snatched up keys from his desk. “I'll take you."

She gripped the door, knuckles bleached of color. “I'd prefer a cab, thank you.

"I know you would, Taylor.” He dangled the keys. “No tricks. Gentleman's honor.” And he crossed his heart.

Taylor went to speak, but he silenced her with the tip of his finger resting against her parted lips.

Silence zinged between them, and Taylor had the distinct urge to wrap her tongue around the tip of his finger. To suck it. Very blatantly, and very sexually.

"Don't argue, Ms. Sullivan.” He gave her a sheepish grin that did more to her equilibrium than Taylor wanted to admit. “Mind you, we could call it our first lovers’ tiff."

"Lovers?” she exhaled and went limp against him.

The flat of his hand palmed the small of her back and with the other he switched the light out. Darkness encircled them, a sweet relief from his knowing gaze. She could feel his heat; hear the rampaging beat of her heart behind her ribs.

"You put some crazy proposition to me tonight, Taylor Sullivan, and, damn it, I have no idea why, but let's just say you've got a date."

Oh, boy.

"A date.” Those two words sounded extraordinarily provocative.

Out in the bar, Cade walked beside her, but Taylor's emotions were frayed and she couldn't even look at him. He called out to the young woman at the bar and gave her a wave. “Hey, sis, gotta go somewhere."

"Who's the lady, Cade?” came a shout from the direction of the pool table.

"Never you mind, Harry Fontain. Keep your mitts off."

A raucous hoot of laughter rippled around the room. “I think our Cade's found himself a hot chick."

"'Bout time,” called another.

Cade waved the crowd off and directed Taylor towards the exit, the pressure of his hand increasing.

She couldn't get out of there fast enough, and the moment they walked through the exit, she breathed a sigh of relief.

His expression was all apologetic. “Sorry about that. It's football night; the guys are celebrating a win by the local footie team."

"You seem to know everyone,” she said as she walked at his side.

"Goes with the territory. The more you get to know your customer, the better business is. They think you're interested in their life, so they feel at home. And if they feel comfortable, then they're likely to spend more."

"Makes sense."

"Yeah, it does. But damned if this does.” He frowned and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. Taylor followed his movements, and her eyes widened as she saw what his tight jeans emphasized. She slid her tongue over her lips nervously as a wave of panic washed through her.

"You don't have to do this,” she said.

"Don't I?"

"No,” she reaffirmed, but she couldn't stall the sense of disappointment she'd feel if Cade changed his mind. “Look I'll help you with your business. It doesn't matter about the ... ah ... other thing."

"The virginity thing?"

Taylor swallowed hard. Why hadn't she done something about this a long time ago? But she knew why. Her life had been hijacked.

They turned the corner and wove their way through the rows of cars before coming to a halt beside a sleek classic car.

A gasp of surprise flew from her lips. “This Mustang is yours?” She reached out to the car. It stood alone, under the streetlight, beautiful, elegant, charged.

"Sure is."

She heard the unmistakable sound of admiration and joy in Cade's acknowledgement and noticed the way his hands caressed the car's sleek curves. She dragged her gaze away, wanting to disown her thoughts. Trouble was, they ignited imagery as if the car's curves were hers. Skin against skin. Cade next to her. Hot, sleek and very tempting.

"Very impressive. ‘64 Mustang, eight cylinder, isn't it?"

"You know cars?"

A soft flutter of laughter broke the hush. “Don't sound so surprised. Women can be ‘into’ cars, just as much as men."

"I know. I just didn't expect it."

"Why? Don't I look like a petrol head?"

"No, more like a prim little nun. A good girl,” he confirmed. He looked at her then. Really looked. Slow and deliberate. His hands slid through her hair, draping it over him. A veil of golden silk; such a sensual act that she held her breath. It also exposed vulnerability in her, that until now, Taylor refused to acknowledge.

She wondered what Cade saw. The real her? Or the sensible girl, the façade she enacted for everyone, including her family. Had he been able to bridge the gap between? Did she want him to?

To Cade Harper, she was a prim little girl, about to be bad.

Without speaking, Cade opened the car door, and she slid in, careful not to get too close. However, once seated Taylor wasn't so sure accepting his offer was a good idea. The interior was small and far too intimate and only served to fire her wayward hormones.

In clipped tones, she gave him her address and retreated into silence.

As the car eased out of the car park, excitement, fear and anticipation all rolled into one coursed through her veins. It forced Taylor to focus on emotions she'd never experienced before, and she felt totally inadequate. Nothing in her life had prepared her

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