A Little Night Music by Andrea Dale, Sarah Husch Page B

had to say, but Nate had finished signing his name to an 8 X 10 and had moved on to the next.
    “Karen!” he said to a pretty, slender blond wearing glasses. “How was your trip to—where was it—Santo Domingo?”
    Holy crap.
    At least he didn’t know all of the ones who crowded forward. Still, he worked through the line, a model of patience as he signed, posed for photos, answered brief questions. She noticed Gina nearby, the digital camera in her hand recording shot after shot to be posted to his website.
    Finally, most of the fans had left, although a few lingered to one side, having already gotten their moment with him but obviously not yet willing to miss a second of his presence. That’s when a thin, wavering voice said, “Excuse me?”
    The question came from a wide-eyed teenaged girl who clutched a piece of paper and a pen in her hands. The paper was slowly being strangled into an unrecognizable wad. Hannah wasn’t sure whether to be amused by the awkwardly eager look on the girl’s face, or embarrassed that the child seemed so much like she had been all those years ago.
    A slow smile curved Nate’s wide mouth, a mix of humor and sensuality. “Hi. Would you like my autograph?”
    “Oh god yes,” the teenager said in a breathy rush. She thrust the pen and paper at him, and then snatched it back, frantically trying to smooth the mangled paper.
    Nate plucked the pen from her hand and stepped closer to her. He touched a spot just above his picture on her shirt. “We can use this,” he told her with a grin. “What’s your name?”
    “Miranda, but my friends all call me Mindy, which I hate, so if you could sign it to Miranda that would be really cool.” The words came out in one jumbled sentence. “I am such a big fan, I mean, I really am. I have all your CDs. I just got the new one and it’s so good. Oh god, I can’t believe I’m standing here talking to you. No one is going to believe me.”
    Nate smiled at her as he scrawled his signature across the shirt and then handed the pen back. “It was nice meeting you, Miranda. I’m glad you like the latest CD. You should come to the concert. The tour starts next week.”
    “Oh, I will,” she said, backing away, not taking her eyes from him. It was only when she bumped into someone that she looked away, clutching her pen to her chest while she hurried back across the pier.
                                                                            *
    “That was nice of you,” Hannah said.
    “I’m a nice guy,” Nate told her with a slow smile. It was funny, he thought, but he hadn’t enjoyed signing an autograph as much as that one in years.
    Maybe it was the way Hannah’s eyes had softened while she watched. He wondered if she were remembering their first meeting. She’d been a lot like that young fan.
    Of course, she’d grown up since, finding a poise she’d lacked then. But her mouth was the same sweet curve it had been that first time. He felt himself harden remembering what that mouth had done the night before.
    Andre and his minions were shooing the crowd away.
    Nate caught Hannah’s hand, drawing her away to the back wall of Castagnola’s where there was a modicum of privacy. He was puzzled by the wariness he saw in her eyes. He trailed his fingers over the smooth line of her jaw, letting them follow the delicate curve of her throat to where her pulse fluttered quickly.
    “Nate,” she began quietly.
    “Hannah,” he teased. He bent his head, allowing himself the pleasure of tasting her lips. He stroked his tongue along her full lower lip, relishing the soft sigh of need she made. Despite what he’d seen in her eyes, there was no wariness in the way her mouth invited him in. He ran his hands down her sides, teasing the swelling curves of her breasts with his thumbs before drawing her hips tightly to his. He wanted her to remember just exactly what her nearness did