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  Now temper filled his eyes along with the annoyance, and she just sighed as he sped off, screeching out of the parking lot. Yeah, she sure could pick them. She opened her cell again and dialed Mel. It took her two tries, which told her she was either a bit more tipsy than she’d thought, or thoroughly shaken. Maybe some combination of both.

  “Anderson Air,” came Mel’s voice, sounding extremely out of breath, and extremely distracted.

  Dimi frowned. “You’re on your way back from the Bay?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, good.” Dimi reached out and gripped the back of the bench beneath the awning for balance, a little unnerved to find herself weaving. “I need a ride from—”

  “I’m still in San Francisco. Grounded by the storm.”

  “Oh.” Dimi looked out into the dark night and felt…alone. Extremely, frighteningly alone. “Are you stuck in the airport?”

  “Uh, no.” Mel hesitated. “I’m getting a room, we’re nearly at the hotel now.”

  “We?” Dimi staggered back a step. “You, and…Bo?” She realized she’d only been mildly upset by her date, at least compared to this. “Mel. You can’t—”

  “Look, tell it to Mother Nature, okay? I’m sorry I can’t pick you up. I thought you were on a date.”

  “Were being the operative word.”

  “Oh, God.” Mel’s voice softened. “What happened? Are you okay? Was he a jerk? Goddamn this weather—”

  “I have a feeling I’m better off than you are.” Dimi’s throat went thick at all the worry and love in Mel’s voice. “Hey, listen, I’m okay. But you…You be careful.”

  “Right back atcha,” Mel said.

  Dimi nodded even though she knew Mel couldn’t see her, and closed her phone. The chilly rain brought goose bumps out on her arms, and she hugged herself.

  “Ma’am?” The valet stood in front of her with an umbrella. “Do you need me to call you a cab?”

  Cabs were few and far between in the city, where most everyone drove themselves. The thought of waiting around seemed to bring her down even further. “No, thanks.” She opened her cell again, accessed her saved numbers and tried Kellan. No answer. She hit the next number, which would be Ritchie, and waited.

  “’Lo,” came the sleepy voice.

  Dimi blinked. “Ritchie?”

  “Danny.”

  She stared at her phone. She’d hit the wrong number. Oh, God. Anyone but him, the one guy she’d rather not have see her this way. Not again. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “Dimi.” He sounded wide awake now. “What’s the matter?”

  Just the sound of his voice tightened her throat. Pathetic. She was pathetic being on the verge of a breakdown tonight. So she’d had a bad date. Again. She should be used to it. She wasn’t the type of woman who men treated nicely. “Nothing’s the matter. Sorry I woke you.” She shut the phone and shoved it in her purse. “Idiot,” she told herself, huddled beneath the awning as the storm kicked it up a notch. “You’re an idiot—”

  Her cell began vibrating. She reached into her purse and looked at it. Danny. Slowly she flipped the cell open.

  “Just tell me if you need help,” he said without a greeting. “Because I sure as hell can’t go back to sleep until I know.”

  She winced, touched the phone to her forehead and scrunched her eyes tight as regret, pride, and stupidity all played tag with each other in her brain.

  “Dimi.”

  She sighed. Oh, what the hell, he’d asked. “I could use a ride,” she admitted.

  “Your date went bad.”

  “Just a little bit, yeah.”

  To give him credit, he didn’t say a word about that. “Where are you?”

  She told him. “I could just catch a cab—”

  “Don’t move.” Disconnect.

  With a sigh, she sat on the fancy bench in front of the fancy restaurant to wait, and tried not to think. In twelve minutes flat, Danny pulled up with a screech, getting out of his big, beat-up truck and into the rain.

  Tonight he wore a pair of jeans loose on his lean hips, flip-flops, and a T-shirt worn thin at all the seams that said BITE ME across the chest and was getting wetter by the second.

  She stared at the words on his shirt, feeling something tighten deep inside her.

  He was a fellow rebel.

  How had she missed that about him? He looked rumpled, sleepy, and unsmiling as he strode right to her, pulled her up from the bench and peered into her face. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked her over as if needing to make sure for himself, then let out a breath. “Okay, then.”

  How was it that she’d never noticed how cute he was? His blond hair, wet now, fell nearly to his shoulders, with a stubborn strand stabbing him in the eyes. His mouth was grim at the moment but when he smiled, which she knew he did with ease, it was never cruel. Nothing mean ever crossed those lips.

  Those lips. She couldn’t tear her gaze off them, which she had to attribute to the sheer volume of alcohol she’d consumed, because she didn’t care about lips. Why should she when she never kissed? Never wanted to?

  But from deep within her she craved his lips, his kiss. It made no sense, but clearly, tonight, she wasn’t about making sense. Compounding error on error, she leaned in and touched his mouth with hers.

  His shock vibrated through her, but she did it again, staring into his eyes as she balanced herself on tiptoe by holding onto his arms and kissed him.

  He held himself rigid, unmoving, but beneath her fingers she felt the strength of him, and then she felt him tremble.

  Tremble.

  More. She had to have more, so she touched her tongue to the corner of his mouth, tasting him. “Mmm,” she murmured, and finally, finally, shattered his rigid control. With a rough sound, he hauled her up against him and kissed her, ohmigod kissed her, head bent, mouth fused to hers, tongue sweeping inside her mouth to claim hers…

  This was what she’d needed so badly tonight, and all those other nights. If she’d only known what she was missing…But no, that wasn’t right. It was because it was Danny that she felt such a delicious oblivion. Clearly he knew what he was doing. She could lose herself, she could feel it, and he’d keep her safe. She wouldn’t have to think.

  Just feel.

  Thank God, she thought, and wrapped herself around him, nearly crying in relief, but then she was blinking in surprise because he’d pulled away, supporting her until she nodded, and then dropping his hands from her as if burned, stepping back, averting his face so that she couldn’t see into his eyes.

  “Danny?”

  He was breathing hard, looking extremely unlike his usual laid-back, easygoing self. “I’m not doing this,” he grounded out. “Not like this. Not in front of a damn restaurant, with you so drunk you can’t stand up straight.”

  “I’m not drunk.”

  “Plenty wasted, though.”

  She staggered back a step and tried to figure out how she’d gone from feeling as if she might explode into orgasm from just a kiss, to wanting to crawl into a hole and die.

  Without another word he led her to his truck, waited for her to get in and buckle up, and then came around and got in behind the wheel. The both of them dripping everywhere, he shoved the truck into gear and pulled out into the street.

  The night was dark, the highway had no lights. The cab of his truck had a slight glow from the instruments on the dash, but she didn’t need to see him to feel the tension. Hers, certainly. And also his. He was mad, furious even, and yet for that one glorious moment when he’d held her close, she knew he’d been aroused. Even the thought sent a shiver of thrill through her. She’d made him hard. “Why did you come for me?” she whispered.

  An oncoming car slashed light over his tense features as he turned to her. “Because you called.”

  “But you’re mad at me.”

  “One thing