First Impressions by Nora Roberts

he stood and studied her. “So you called off the wedding.” He wondered if she would take the opportunity he was giving her to claim the break had been her idea.
    â€œNo.” Shane pushed her cup aside. “We had a terrible fight, and I stormed off to spend the rest of the evening with friends at this little club near the college. I had told Cy I wouldn’t spend my first night as a married woman watching a tacky floor show or playing bingo.”
    Vance’s lips twitched but he managed to control his grin. “That sounds remarkably sensible,” he murmured.
    On a weak laugh, Shane shook her head. “After I’d calmed down, I decided where we went wasn’t important, but that we’d finally be together. I told myself Cy was right. I was immature and irresponsible. We needed to save money. I still had two more years of college, and he was just starting in his father’s firm. I was being frivolous. That was one of his favorite adjectives for me.”
    Shane frowned down at her cup but didn’t drink. “I went by his house ready to apologize. That’s when he very reasonably, very calmly jilted me.”
    There was a long moment of silence before Vance came to the table to join her. “I thought you told me he never made mistakes.”
    Shane stared at him a moment, then laughed. It was a quick, pure sound of appreciation. “I needed that.” Impulsively, she leaned her head against his shoulder. The anger had vanished in the telling, the self-pity with the laugh.
    The tenderness that invaded him made Vance cautious. Still, he didn’t resist the urge to stroke his hand down her disordered cap of hair. The texture of her hair was thick and unruly. And incredibly soft. He wasn’t even aware that he twisted a curl around his finger.
    â€œDo you still love him?” he heard himself ask.
    â€œNo,” Shane answered before he could retract the question. “But he still makes me feel like an irresponsible romantic.”
    â€œAre you?”
    She shrugged. “Most of the time.”
    â€œWhat you said to him out there was right, you know.” Forgetting caution in simple wanting, he drew her closer.
    â€œI said a lot of things.”
    â€œThat he’d done you a favor,” Vance murmured as his fingers roamed to the back of her neck. Shane sighed, but he couldn’t tell if the sound came from pleasure or agreement. “You’d have gone crazy rolling up his socks in those little balls.”
    Shane was laughing as she tilted her head back to look at his face. She kissed him lightly in gratitude, then again for herself.
    Her mouth was small and very tempting. Wanting his fill, Vance cupped his hand firmly on the back of her neck to keep her there. There was nothing shy or hesitant in her response to the increased pressure. She parted her lips and invited.
    On a tiny moan of pleasure, her tongue met his. Suddenly hot, suddenly urgent, his mouth moved over hers. He needed her sweetness, her uncomplicated generosity. He wanted to saturate himself with the fresh, clean passion she offered so willingly. When his mouth crushed down harder, she only yielded; when his teeth nipped painfully at her lip, she only drew him closer.
    â€œVance,” she murmured, leaning toward him.
    He rose quickly, leaving her blinking in surprise. “I’ve got work to do,” he said shortly. “I’ll make a list of the materials I’ll need to start. I’ll be in touch.” He was out the back door before Shane could form any response.
    For several moments, she stared at the screen door. What had she done to cause that anger in his eyes? How was it possible that he could passionately kiss her one second and turn his back on her the next? Miserably, she looked down at her clenched hands. She had always made too much of things, she reminded herself. A romantic? Yes, and a dreamer, her grandmother had called her. For too long