Free Body Language by Suzanne Brockmann Page B

done it naturally, without being aware. Gee, maybe there was hope for her yet with this body-language thing.
    “Cassandra.” He said her name softly. “You know, there’s not a single man in this room who isn’t watching us dance.”
    She felt his hand move up her back, underneath her hair. His touch felt sinfully good. His fingers sent both chills and heat racing through her until she was nearly dizzy.
    “They’re all thinking, ‘What a lucky guy.’” McCade smiled lazily. “And you know, they’re right.”
    The song ended, but he didn’t let her go.
    “Vandenberg’s watching us too.” His eyes were glued to her mouth.
    “Who?” Sandy said faintly.
    “Vandenberg,” he repeated. “James?”
    James. “Oh.”
    “What do you say we really give him something to look at?” he murmured. It was as good an excuse as any, and right now he desperately needed an excuse. He couldn’t bring himself to kiss her without one, and mercy, he wanted to kiss her. “Maybe this will give him the right idea,” he added, even though the only idea he wanted to give James Vandenberg was that this woman in his arms belonged to McCade, heart, body, and soul.
    Sandy nervously moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, and it was all the invitation McCade needed.
    He used his left hand to push her curls gently back from her face as he bent down and brushed her soft lips with his own. It was torture, sweet, delicious torture. One taste, one tiny, little, almost nonexistent kiss simply wasn’t enough. He could feel his heart pounding, and he struggled to keep his breathing steady.
    But when he looked into Sandy’s eyes, he couldn’t stop himself. “I don’t know,” he said, ignoring the fact that the band had started another slow song and people were dancing around them. “Do you think he noticed? We better do that again, just to make sure.”
    He kissed her again, longer this time, letting his mouth linger. It was still as sweet, though, still as gentle.
    “Come on. I promised I’d take you home.” Almost desperately, he led her off of the dance floor. If they stayed much longer, he wouldn’t be able to keep from kissing her again, and if he kissed her again, he’d give himself away. He wasn’t ready for that yet. It was too soon.
    “Cassandra Kirk.”
    He looked up to see James Vandenberg and another man on a direct intercept path with them. He swore silently as he put a pleasant smile on his face.
    “James. Hi.” Instantly self-conscious, Sandy dropped McCade’s hand and started to cross her arms. She caught herself and stopped, nervously pushing her hair back, then standing with her hands loosely clasped in front of her.
    “I’m glad you could make it,” James said warmly. He glanced at McCade. “Clint McCade, right?”
    “Good memory.” McCade smiled as they shook hands.
    “Politician in training,” James explained with an easy smile. “Cassandra, do you know Aaron Fields? He’s with Channel Five News. He’s agreed to supply us with additional footage of Simon Harcourt from their video archives.”
    As McCade watched Sandy all uncertainty seemed to drop from her and she became the president of Video Enterprises. She stood slightly taller, and was instantly confident, cool, and reserved. “Mr. Fields and I are acquainted, yes.” She fixed Fields with a rather icy smile. She didn’t offer him her hand, and McCade realized that she did not like this man.
    Impressed, he studied Aaron Fields. Out of all the billions and billions of people in the world, there were just a very small handful that Sandy actively disliked. And because she was full of second chances and forgiveness for bad behavior, it was not easy to fall into that tiny subset of humanity. But somehow Aaron Fields had managed to do so.
    He wasn’t short, not exactly, but with Sandy in her heels, he was a good four inches shorter than she. The man looked to be in his early thirties, and his widening girth put a definite strain on the