I don’t know what I’m doing here.

It’s a mistake. I sense it’s a mistake as I walk through the glass doors to the cardiology practice where Dr. Dean Pourakis is employed. I’ve waited too long—Dean won’t want to see me. At the very least, I should have called. I don’t know what I was thinking, showing up like this.

I didn’t plan it. I was walking by the practice, where I’ve escorted Nonna once before, and I was seized with the urge to see Dean. It isn’t until I get to the front desk, where a blond girl ten years younger than me and far prettier is manning a computer that I entirely lose my nerve.

“I’m sorry,” she says to me. “We’re closing for the day.”

“Oh, I’m not…” I clear my throat. My cheeks feel suddenly warm. “I’m not a patient. I just… but if you’re closed…”

I glance behind me at the vacant waiting area. It’s clearly been the end of a long day, judging by the way every chair in the room is slightly askew and magazines litter the seats. Still, the room gives off a sterile air that I appreciate in a cardiology practice.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Miss Loren.”

I jerk my head up and see Dean standing at the door to the back. He’s wearing a white dress shirt paired with a dark blue tie, and he looks so freaking handsome, my knees feel weak. I cinch my coat tighter around my waist. “Hello, Dr. Pourakis.”

He takes a few steps toward me, his dark eyes trained on my face. He isn’t quite smiling, but he doesn’t seem upset either. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

The attractive secretary is staring at us, waiting to see what I’ll say.

The whole room has gotten very quiet all of a sudden. “My grandmother forgot her glasses,” I blurt out. He raises an eyebrow.

“I mean, at her appointment yesterday,” I say. Even though Nonna’s glasses are almost certainly perched on her nose as we speak. “We’ve been looking for them and she thinks she left them behind.”

“I see.” Dean looks at the blonde. “Taylor, did you find any glasses yesterday?”

So Taylor lugs out a paper box she’s got under the desk that apparently serves as their Lost and Found. There’s quite a lot in there, including a scarf, an assortment of non-matching gloves, a bracelet, a hearing aide, and five pairs of glasses. After all this, I’m tempted to claim

one of them as Nonna’s, but I would feel bad if someone came here to retrieve their glasses and couldn’t because I took them.

“Do you want to take a look in the examining rooms?” Dean asks

me.

Oh God, I don’t want to prolong this charade any further. But if I

don’t look, he’ll know this was all a big farce. So I force a smile and nod gratefully, and follow Dean to the back.

He takes me into his first examining room, where he says he spends most of his time. It’s bright and clean, and smells vaguely of his aftershave. I crouch down near the examining table to search for the missing glasses while Dean watches me.

“Did Nonna really lose her glasses?” he says.

I straighten up, glad my skin tone prevents red from showing up on my cheeks. “What? You think I’m making this whole thing up?”

“A little. Yeah.”

How dare he? Even though he’s absolutely right. “So why would I come here and search for glasses that don’t exist?”

“Maybe you’re nuts.” He grins crookedly and that dimple makes an appearance. “Or maybe you couldn’t stop thinking about me and wanted to see me again.”

“Please,” I snort.

“You know,” he says, “I’m free tonight…” My heart gives a little leap. “You are?”

That warrants a full-on grin. “Oh, so you are interested…” I shrug. “Well, I don’t have anything to do, so…”

“Actually…” He snaps his fingers. “I do have plans tonight.”

I glare at him. He did that on purpose. I can tell by the way he’s grinning at me. “Well, whatever.”

“Would you like to come with me?” I narrow my eyes. “To do what?” “Dancing lessons.”

Say… what?

“My little sister is getting married in a few months,” he explains. “And I’ve been informed my dancing skills leave something to be desired. So Phoebe has been kind enough to purchase a ballroom dancing lesson for me and threaten me with what will happen if I fail to show up.”

I laugh. “You let your baby sister boss you around?”

“Hey, it’s her big day. I don’t want to ruin it with my inferior dancing skills.” He straightens out his tie. “So what you do say? You

in?”

“Will they let me join at the last minute?” “Sure. Why not?”

I hesitate.

“Come on,” he says. “You don’t want all this time you spent

pretending to search for Nonna’s glasses to be for nothing, do you?” He has got a very good point.

An hour later, Dean and I are at a dance studio in midtown. He had to sweet talk them into letting me join in—apparently, they already had a professional partner lined up for Dean. But after he slides a couple of bills across the table to them, they seem happy enough to let me participate.

“You’re very smooth,” I murmur to Dean as we join the other couples on the dance floor. A giant mirror lines the far wall, so we can observe how terribly we’re dancing.

“You may not be saying that after you see me dance.”

Our teacher is a woman named Oksana with an East European accent. She’s wearing a skintight black shirt and short skirt and has a tiny, perfect body. I wouldn’t have blamed Dean for checking her out, but he doesn’t. He keeps his dark eyes focused on me as we stand facing each other, awaiting further instructions.

“Now, ladies!” Oksana barks at us. Wow, she has a loud voice for someone so tiny. “Put your left hand on your partner’s shoulder and hold his hand with your right.”

I step toward Dean. God, he smells nice. And the way he’s smiling at me is making it slightly hard to breathe. I put my left hand on his shoulders, feeling his firm muscles under my palm—he must work out. My right hand slides into his. His hand is large and warm in mine— touching him makes my heart beat faster.

“Men!” Oksana says. “You put your right hand on your partner’s back.”

And now his hand is on my back, warm against the thin fabric of my shirt. We are so close right now. I can see the dark hairs of his five o’clock shadow. Our eyes meet briefly and he winks at me.

God, he’s really sexy.

Oksana strides over to the stereo and flicks on a song. Every night, I hope and pray, a dream lover will take me away…

“Now,” Oksana announces, “we learn to cha cha cha.”

Dean wasn’t joking—he’s not a great dancer. He doesn’t have a natural sense of rhythm, but he’s trying really hard. He’s counting the beats under his breath to keep in time with the music. But at the same time, we’re having a great time. I wouldn’t have thought ballroom dancing lessons could be this fun.

“One… two… three…” he recites to himself. I giggle. “You are such a nerd.”

“Of course I am,” he says. “I’m a cardiologist. We’re all nerds. But at least I’m a cool nerd.”

“What makes you cool?”

Dean reaches out his arm and spins me. “I like hip hop music. Is that cool?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I have a Twitter account. I’ve forgotten the password, but I’ve got

it.”

“Not cool.”

“I’ve got a tattoo.”

I lean my head back so I can look at his face. “Do you really?” “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Where is it?”

“Ah.” He grins at me. “Now, that’s a secret. You’ll have to go out

with me again to find out.”

“Sorry then,” I say. “I’m still not convinced you’re cool.”

“How about this?” He leans forward slightly so that I can smell the mint on his breath. “I am a fantastic kisser.”

“Well, that’s what you say…”

“That is God’s honest truth.” His eyes meet mine. “I’d be happy to prove it to you if you’d like.”

“Maybe,” I say enigmatically. And he winks at me.

For the entire rest of the class, all I can think about is kissing him. The way he’s looking at me, I suspect he feels the same way. We manage to fumble through the last twenty minutes, then he asks me if I want to go grab a bite to eat.

“That would be great,” I tell him. “I’m starving.” “Anything in particular you like?”

“Anything is fine.”

Except when I get outside, I realize I wore the wrong shoes for a two-hour dance class. Blisters have formed on my toes and every step has become painful. I don’t want to seem like a wuss though, so I don’t say anything. Physical pain is easy to deal with.

“You okay?” Dean squints at me at the end of the first block. “Yeah, fine.”

“You’re limping.”

He caught me. “My feet are killing me,” I admit. “But… I want to go with you to eat.”

He takes a step back, looking me over thoughtfully. Then he turns so his back is facing me. “Okay, hop on.”

I laugh. “What?”

“Your feet hurt, and it’s another three blocks.” “You don’t have to carry me!”

“I want to.”

“I’m not light, you know.”

“Are you suggesting I’m not strong enough to carry you?”

I remember the feel of his tight muscles under his shirt when I had my hand on his arm. He’s perfectly capable of carrying me. “Okay, fine.” So he does. I ride on his back the rest of the way to the restaurant.

He barely grunts as he lifts me—this guy is strong. At some point, I lean my head against his back. This could be one of the nicest nights I’ve ever had.

When we get to the restaurant, Dean lowers me carefully to the ground. My feet throb as they touch the ground, but it’s not too bad. I’ll be fine as long as I’m not walking anymore.

“Thank you,” I say. “My pleasure,” he says.