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Dear God. He gulped, then busied himself by gathering up the balls, hoping she couldn’t see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, as if he were a hormone-filled teenager.

“What’s your name?” The words came out rougher than he’d intended.

But that’s how women roped him in. Funny and sexy …

and then BAM! He’d anted up his heart once, and the girl took off, leaving him and his newborn son.

Better to guard his heart from the start.

Wow! Where had that come from? He hadn’t been mad at Daire’s mom in years.

Green eyes stared at him. “Does it matter what my name is?”

“Guess not,” he matched her casual tone as he racked the balls. “I could just say hey you when it’s your shot or call you Cat.” He motioned to the cue ball. “Ladies first.”

“You can go first.” She leaned back against the wall, crossing her legs at her ankles. The familiar wheat-colored Timberland boots had never looked sexier. Adding to her casual look, her bronze knee poked out from the shredded threads of her painted-on jeans. “Why Cat?” she asked.

Sam held back his answer while he lined up the cue ball. Not wanting the game to end too quickly, he performed a token break that didn’t drop any balls.

He looked up at the sexy woman as he stood upright. “Your eyes …” He inhaled a deep breath as she held his gaze. Most people got uncomfortable maintaining eye contact for more than a second or two, but she just waited for him to continue. “Your eyes are stunning. They look like cat’s eyes.”

Appearing momentarily disarmed, she smiled. “Is it my turn?”

“Yes.” He pointed to a solid. “Tap the cue ball here.” He lined up the shot, mock shooting, showing her exactly where to hit the cue ball. “Let’s see what you got.” He directed her body exactly to the spot, resting a hand on her back.

Without a word, she bent over the table.

Her faded gray sweatshirt rode up, revealing a tattoo on her hip that he couldn’t quite make out.

She gave the stick a quick, smooth jerk, sinking the ball, then shimmied out of his teaching embrace with a coy smile.

“Like that, Mr. Instructor? Or should I call you el gato ?” She smiled. “Perhaps, Tomcat?”

Gato , the Spanish word for cat, if he remembered correctly. “I definitely wouldn’t refer to myself as a tomcat. But with that sexy accent, you can call me anything you want.” He grinned. “Especially if you say it in Spanish.”

As though she approved of his comment, a broad smile lifted her heart-shaped face. “My name is Nora.”

He dipped his head. “Nice to officially meet you, Nora. I’m Sam, but you already knew that. And I think you’re ready to play. Now the only question is … how good are you?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

Let the games begin , he thought.

* * *

Over the next hour, they continued with their playful banter and swapped a few heated looks and a lot of flirtatious hints.

But every once in a while, he’d catch Nora scanning the room.

Each time her eyes darted to-and-fro, the action was sudden, as if she’d forgotten something.

When she caught him watching her, she’d mask her apparent distress with a smile.

In the last minutes of their third game, Sam realized he needed to get back to the family. It was, after all, Daire’s birthday.

As she’d done for nearly every shot, Nora circled the table like a green-eyed panther stalking its prey.

“Wait,” Sam said, “You’re missing the kill shot.

” When she didn’t seem to see it, he approached her.

As much as he didn’t want their game to end, he liked the idea of showing her the shot.

Moving behind her, he placed his hands on either side of her sensually curvy hips and edged her to the side.

He applied gentle pressure to her left shoulder, nudging her forward so she could see the shot.

He wrapped his other arm around her, pointing.

“See it? The cue ball will bounce back, lining you up to drop your last ball. Then you’ll easily sink the eight ball. ”

“Oh, I see …” She leaned farther over the table. “Like this?”

God help him, as she bent over, her backside pressed up against him. He was certain she hadn’t planned to grind her ass against his crotch, but without warning, his relaxed-fit Levi’s suddenly felt like skinny jeans.

Abruptly remembering where he was, he straightened up. One look at his mother and Daire eyeing him, and his size thirty-four jeans were no longer fitting like a cheap hotel.

Seemingly not noticing how her move had affected him, Nora took her next shot and dropped the eight ball. At once, she performed a sexy hip-shaking victory dance. “Two wins for me, carino ! Want to play again, Sam?”

The only thing sexier than her Spanish was his name on her lips. The way she said it sent his blood rushing through his body. He needed to say goodnight before he did something irrational like sweep her up into his arms and carry her to his truck.

“I should probably get back to …” A slow song started, disrupting his thoughts.

Couples made their way to the seldom-used dance floor.

Without a thought, he wrapped a hand around Nora’s hand and led her to the dance floor.

Thankfully, she didn’t question his bold move.

Then again, with the moves she had just pulled on him, maybe she wouldn’t be opposed to slipping out the back door.

“So … you’re from Argentina,” he said, determined to get his mind off the crazy thought of taking home a complete stranger.

That wasn’t his style — not anymore. Not since he’d had to take over the family business.

Funny how, when he stopped getting drunk, a lot of his other bad habits had gone away too.

Nora tilted her head up and fluttered her long lashes. “Yes … I’m from Argentina. That fact has not changed since you asked me an hour ago. Small talk doesn’t suit you, Sam.”

She was one tough cookie, this one. But he rallied. “It wasn’t lame small talk. Think of it as an anchor in the rock above you, helping you to reach the next level. I want to know more about where you’re from.”

“Oh. Sorry, I guess I’ve been a little hard on you.”

“A lot hard.” He lifted a shoulder. “But I can take it.”

Her appraising look actually made his body tingle. With a nod, she said, “I imagine you can.”

Several verses of the song passed, and he realized she wasn’t going to offer any information on her birth country. As nice as she felt in his arms, with his hands lightly resting on her lower back, he found that he really wanted to know more about her. “So … Argentina, huh?”

They both laughed.

“I was born in El Chaltén, but then moved to Buenos Aires when I was fourteen.”

Sam smiled. He knew it was probably ninety percent physical at this point, but he liked this woman.

He liked that she spoke her mind. A rare thing, especially when you first met someone.

Usually it seemed like there was a breaking–in period, a time when both parties were on their best behavior.

Then, after a few dates, the real you — or them — would come out.

Well, Nora was already cocky and challenging.

He wondered what secrets she harbored, though.

Most people didn’t end up in Alaska alone … unless they were hiding from someone.

“Let me clarify where I was going with that question,” Sam said. “Why have you come all the way from Argentina to Alaska?”

“Actually, I’ve lived in L.A. for the last seven years. But … why would that be unusual? Americans travel to the Andes. Even a clothing line bears the name Patagonia. So why would it be unusual for someone from Argentina to come here?”

“True …” He sighed, pulling her closer. She was about five inches shorter than his six-foot height, so her head rested perfectly on his shoulder.

He wished he could drop his interrogation, but he was well aware why many people came to Alaska.

Not those on cruise liners; those tourists were happy seeing the sights from the balcony of a cruise ship.

But a woman on her own? There had to be more to her story.

“Why are you in Denali, Nora?” he whispered into her ear.

She peered up at him again, her emerald eyes holding him hostage as if an electric current connected them. “To hike. Why else?” Her words sounded flippant, but there was a hint of conflict in her eyes. As though she wanted to tell him the truth but couldn’t.

“People come to Alaska for many reasons,” Sam said. “For some, hiking is just a good excuse.”

Her muscles tensed beneath his hands. “I’ve come to hike, Sam. That’s all.”

“Okay.” He tightened his arms around her.

She’d waved off his question, but the way she’d said his name told him she wasn’t upset.

Maybe he was overreacting. Perhaps he wasn’t as good at reading people as he thought.

He shrugged off his concern. Just having her in his arms felt good.

Familiar, somehow, as if she’d been a missing part of him.

Her breath against his neck caused a surge of warmth to rush through him, something he hadn’t felt in what seemed like a lifetime.

It had been a lifetime actually. Daire’s lifetime.

He looked over her shoulder to see his family smiling.

Were they right? Had he been grouchy lately?

Well, he certainly didn’t feel grouchy right now.

How could he, when he was dancing with a woman who played videogames, shot pool, and liked to hike?

Maybe she’d fall in love with Denali and not want to leave.

He could see himself with Nora, getting to know each other while hiking.

Maybe she’d fall in love with him and not want to leave …