He leaned in. The air between them thinned until she could feel his heartbeat, matching hers. His breath mingled with hers—salt, heat, the faintest trace of whiskey. She almost closed the distance. Almost. But she didn’t. Not yet.
Instead, she whispered. “We always stop before the good part.”
He looked surprised, then smiled. “Maybe I’m waiting for the right song.” His breath brushed her temple. “Besides, you always seem as if you’re somewhere else instead of in the moment.”
She considered that. “Maybe I am.”
“That might be the problem.”
She lifted her chin enough to meet his eyes. “You think I’m a problem?”
He didn’t answer immediately. His hand tightened at her waist—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind her how easily he could. “Maybe,” he finally said. “But I don’t always mind problems.”
The space between them vanished for another heartbeat. It was nearly a kiss, possibly something more. But neither closed that final gap. Why? Maybe because then it would be real instead of a game. And perhaps they were both players.
Zach’s lips grazed her jaw. “Everyone’s looking to push out the loneliness tonight,” he huskily said.
“Maybe we should keep dancing then.”
“We probably should.”
The song ended. The room exhaled. Without thinking, they each took a step back, hunger and worry in their eyes. Were they pushing it too far? He stepped forward again, this time so close that not even a whisper could get between them. His lips brushed past hers. Her heart thundered . . . then she stepped back once more.
“Careful, Zach. The island’s watching.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth before slowly coming back to her eyes. “So am I.”
Her heart pounded as temptation and willpower fought for dominance. He smirked, as if knowing this round belonged to him.
“You’d better be careful, Harmony. You’re starting to become part of the story.”
She smiled. “Maybe I’ve always been.”
Mystery and heat swirled in his eyes. “That’s what scares me.”
He finally let go and turned away. Harmony realized she’d been holding her breath. She wasn’t sure if she truly was part of the story she didn’t want to be in.
Was she the next victim?
The music swelled again, trying to drown out the words. The crowd resumed its false laughter. Harmony stood alone for a long moment, pulse steadying, thoughts spinning.
Cass found her by the balcony doors, champagne untouched in her hand.
“What a freaking disaster,” Cass muttered. “Where’s Mary?”
“Gone.”
“Torie?”
Harmony scanned the room. Torie was gone, too. So was Candy.
Only Zach remained where he’d been most of the night—now back to his column, arms crossed, watching everything with faint, cold amusement. Their eyes met across the chaos. They held too many secrets between them. She should walk to him and take his hand. She should let go.
She couldn’t make herself do it, though.
“What happened to your dance partner?” Harmony asked.
“He bored me. I slipped away.”
