Mia felt oddly transfixed.

There was violence in his eyes, but his fingers were gentle. The world seemed to slip sideways, and when his mouth touched hers, the world detached completely. Something else swam up to fill the gap in her reality.

Lights twinkled overhead. Silk flowers twined around the white columns, giving the gym a tropical air. A photographer at one end took pictures of couples standing inside a fairy-tale gazebo. Edwin McCain crooned the first lines of “I’ll Be.”

She wore a red dress. Her mother had said they couldn’t afford it, but she must’ve changed her mind. Tense with nerves, Mia glanced around at the other couples dancing. Girls like her didn’t get asked to dances. She didn’t belong here, and she just knew something bad was going to happen.

Instead, Jared Kennedy came toward her with two glasses of punch. He wore a shy, uncertain smile, and it faded when he got a good look at her. “You said you were thirsty…”

“I am,” she said, suddenly breathless.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the glass. Luckily, it didn’t matter if she sloshed some on her dress. The fruit punch and the vibrant satin would be close enough in color that nobody would notice in the shifting light. She made herself sip, ladylike, while gazing up at him.

Dressed in a black tux, he was every bit as handsome as she’d dreamed all those afternoons in AP English. She doubted the popular cheerleader types would agree; he was tall and slim, refined rather than muscular. His face held an artistic sensitivity, reflected in the poems he sometimes read in class. She’d often wondered what he thought about, whether his musings were as deep as she believed.

“Would you like to dance?” He looked no more sure of himself than she felt, which put her at ease.

She simply nodded, and he led her out into the crush of swaying bodies. At first his hold was light, almost tentative, and then he gathered her close as she’d imagined so many times. They danced through songs by the Backstreet Boys and 98 Degrees. Bliss soaked in through her skin. She’d never thought she could be so happy.

The chaperones weren’t paying very close attention, so Jared maneuvered them into a part of the gym where the shadows fell thick. He didn’t ask permission; he could see by the upturned angle of her face how much she wanted the kiss. His lips were warm and soft, full of innocence and desire, and happiness surged through her like an electrical storm. Her arms wound about his neck, and she pressed close, rousing a shiver from him.

His lips toyed with hers, delicate and expert. She never would’ve imagined Jared could kiss like this, sensual but commanding. His tongue teased into her mouth, making her ache. She kissed him back, hungry for more of the sweet tension coiling through her.

Teeth grazed her lower lip, unabashedly demanding. She gave him more, undulating against him. They’d stopped dancing. The music had quieted, too, but she didn’t open her eyes. She was afraid everyone would be staring, watching the ice princess Mia Sauter hover on the brink of an orgasm, just from the delicious skill in Jared Kennedy’s mouth.

Warm lips skimmed to her jaw, down her throat to her collarbone and back again. Beneath her gown, her nipples perked. She knew she shouldn’t let him. Good girls said no, at least in public. In hotel rooms or the backseats of cars-well, that was another story.

“You have to stop,” she whispered.

There was a thrill in saying it because it meant he wanted her after all this time. She’d spent two years gazing at him, never dreaming he’d ever look back. His desire spiked through her in a heady rush, kindling a hungry echo. Before tonight, she’d never even been kissed, and now she was thinking about all kinds of things.

“Do I?” he asked, husky-voiced. “Please don’t make me, Mia. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Really?” Could it be true? Had he been watching her the whole time she was watching him? If only one of them had been brave enough to speak up before now.

“Yes.”

“Is everyone watching?”

“No, princess. We’re out in the hall. No one will know, I promise.”

She opened her eyes, astonished to find that at some point during the sweet, endless kisses, he’d nudged her through the side doors and into the dimly lit corridor. Her back was to a row of lockers, and there was nobody around. His eager cajoling struck the right note; he didn’t want to stop just yet, and neither did she.

“Maybe a little more, then,” she said, breathless.

His kisses hit her system like a narcotic. He caressed her, fingertips skating down her spine to the small of her back. With surety, he lifted her so that her hips centered on his erection. Mia arched against him, trembling with arousal. She wanted him inside her so badly that she moaned aloud.

And that was when she knew it for a lie. This was a woman’s need. If anyone had made her feel like this at seventeen, she’d have wept in shock and then fled, not demanded more. Back then, she hadn’t been ready for this.

She wrenched away, and the minute she did, the gym disappeared. Another time and place superimposed itself upon the dream. It hadn’t been Jared Kennedy. She suspected Jared still wouldn’t know how to caress a woman so expertly; he had been a girl’s romantic ideal, and he’d never invited her to the prom. How embarrassing to have a secret, nearly forgotten fantasy plucked from her brain like that.

Anger slammed through her. She balled up her fist, intending to punch Foster and demand to know what he’d done to her. A drug on his lips? But that made no sense. He would be affected, too.

Mia noticed that he shook, too. That made it better; he was no more able to resist her than she could him. It also told her that something extraordinary was going on.

It took him two tries to find his voice. “Did I do something wrong?”

He doesn’t know, she realized. He thinks I’m still seeing whoever supplanted him. Does this happen whenever he touches a woman? He makes us delusional? How… horrible. It would be awful for the women who never saw him as he was; that must make it impossible for him to maintain a normal relationship. For the first time, she understood his rebuff so many months prior.

In some regards, his affliction reminded her of Kyra’s. If she hadn’t seen what her friend could do, years ago, she would be panicked now. Instead she was only shaken and pondered how best to spin this to her own advantage.

Did the effect wear off when he broke contact? Or was the victim then lost in the past for all time? If only she knew, she could decide how to handle things. His expression gave her no hint.

Mia gambled. “No, Jared. There are people around.” How she wished she could blush on cue. “We’ll have to get a hotel room later.”

If she could string him along, make him think she was still lost in the dream, then he would probably leave her alone. He’d believe any threat from her had been neutralized, and by the time he realized he was wrong, she would have had the opportunity to investigate him fully. But he read her too well, and the bluff failed.

“You know,” he breathed. “But how? How do I look to you?”

His eyes held a painfully avid light. Despite her animosity, sympathy panged through her. She knew what Kyra had suffered-how she couldn’t be touched-but this was the first time Mia had considered her friend might be more than a genetic anomaly. Obviously, there were more like her, and Mia had one of them standing before her. There was no point in pushing the pretense further; he was too intelligent to fall for it. So she answered honestly.

“You have brown hair, streaked light, and gray blue eyes, like the sky before a heavy rain. Your face is not handsome, but it is…” She paused, seeking the word. “Compelling. Your bone structure is sharp-”