Under normal circumstances, he would have walked away from this latest antic of hers and chalked it up to another battle of the sexes between them. But this time, he couldn't do it.

Cam knew without a doubt that if it was one of his sisters up there on that stage in a wet, see-through T-shirt and too-short skirt, and one of his friends was in the audience, he'd want them to be sure she got the hell out of there and home safely. As it was, there was too much potential of some stranger taking advantage of her inebriated state. Being a P.I. and having investigated too many sexual assault cases, he was well aware of the possible dangers this kind of atmosphere bred-especially when half the men in the place had their eye on a certain woman and that hot little body of hers.

Then there was the issue of Mia's brothers. If it ever got back to one of her siblings that he'd left their baby sister in this bar in her condition, or if something happened to her because he'd decided to leave, he knew his ass would be on the line. And her brothers and cousins aside, he couldn't live with himself if he abandoned her.

A raw expletive escaped him. God, she was pure trouble. The bane of his existence. And this situation proved it.

She wanted a reaction out of him? Well, she was about to get one, he decided.

Chapter Two

UP on the dance floor, Mia continued to work the crowd with a shimmy and a shake, but her gaze remained locked on Cameron, who was currently pushing his way through the throng of unruly patrons and toward the stage. His normally sensual lips were stretched into a grim line, and his green eyes blazed with a simmering anger. That very fine body of his was wired with determination and an underlying impatience that didn't bode well for her.

And still, none of those negative vibes he was giving off detracted from just how devastatingly gorgeous the man was. And sexy. And so incredibly hot. Cameron Sinclair was all male, from his thick tousled dark blonde hair, to those wide shoulders of his, to his lean hips and strong-looking thighs… and certainly everything in between.

And she'd wanted him for a very long time.

Unfortunately, Cameron Sinclair had remained elusive to her. He'd presented quite a challenge over the years and most especially lately, but that's exactly what she liked about him and what attracted her so strongly.

He was so far removed from all the other guys she'd dated, most of whom she'd easily managed to wrap around her finger in no time flat. And once that happened, the thrill of the chase always diminished, her interest in them waned, and she'd end the brief affair. It was a cycle she was well familiar with and one she used to protect her heart and emotions.

But Cam wasn't one to bend to her will. At least not without a whole lot of provocation-like her impulsive decision to enter the wet T-shirt contest, all as a harmless, fun ploy to make Cameron squirm. Except tonight, it appeared she'd finally managed to crack that staunch control of his. And she couldn't wait to see how this situation between them played out.

As he neared the steps to the dance floor, his darkened gaze shifted back to her. A rush of adrenaline shot through her veins, and a heady mixture of awareness and delicious anticipation curled low in her belly. Going with the wicked urge to ruffle his feathers just a bit more, she lifted her hands to her hair and made sure he was watching as she slowly wet her bottom lip with her tongue and rolled her hips in a sinuous dance move that was as seductive as it was suggestive.

There was no mistaking the desire that flared to life in his striking eyes, and she reveled in that small victory. Cam might have spent months skirting the electric chemistry between them, but she'd seen enough proof lately to confirm that he was far from immune to her and their attraction.

Now it was just a matter of finally doing something about all that potent sexual tension that had them both so on edge around one another.

Reaching the dance floor, he crossed the stage to her, ignoring the way the other participants tried to entice him into joining them in the wet T-shirt contest. His gaze never wavered from Mia's, except to briefly skim over the front of her damp top in a heated caress. In response, her nipples tightened into tingling, sensitive points against her lacy bra. It amazed her how Cameron didn't even have to physically touch her to coax a sensual reaction out of her body. He was the only man she'd ever known who possessed that impressive talent.

He halted directly in front of her so the customers in the bar no longer had a clear view of her or their exchange. "Show's over, sweetheart," he announced, his direct, blunt approach leaving no room for argument.

She stopped dancing, amused by this macho, take-charge side to Cameron. Normally all she saw was the uptight and gruff attitude, and while she supposed that curt tone intimidated some people, she took it as an invitation to be just as daring.

"Says who?" she challenged.

"Me." With that, he grasped her wrist, started down the stairs, and tugged her along behind him-amidst whoops and ribald remarks from the male patrons cheering him on.

Unwilling to be a passive female to his caveman routine, she pulled back and finagled her arm from his grasp. "I'm not ready to leave yet." She turned and headed down the corridor leading to the restrooms.

Behind her, she heard him curse at her defiant maneuver and she bit back a smile. She so loved getting the best of Cameron whenever the opportunity presented itself, especially because it didn't happen often.

Halfway down the hallway, he caught up to her. In a quick, lithe move, he had her back pressed up against the wall with his strong, muscular arms braced on either side of her shoulders so this time she couldn't escape him-at least not easily. Raw frustration etched his expression as he stared down at her, his entire body taut as he tried to keep a firm rein on the temper she knew was simmering right below the surface.

"Dammit, Mia," he said through gritted teeth. "You've obviously had too much to drink and you're not thinking straight. I'm not about to leave you here in your condition. Your brothers would be furious with me if I didn't at least be sure you got home safely."

Ahhh, now she understood where all his high-handedness was coming from. He obviously believed she was intoxicated, and for some ridiculous reason he was driven to save her from herself. Well, she wasn't impressed with his chivalry. In fact, his do-good deed only chafed at her more rebellious side and made her want to buck this charitable gesture of his.

Anger nipped at her own emotions, and she inhaled a deep, calming breath. God, why was it that every man in her life thought it was his duty to keep her safe and sheltered and protected like a weak female? They treated her as though she couldn't take care of herself on her own. Especially her brothers and cousins, and now, it seemed Cameron had also developed the urge to join the ranks by assuming the worst of her condition and making sure she had a chaperone home.

His grand and honorable intention was the very last thing she wanted from him.

She ought to set him straight and tell him she was far from drunk-not even close after two lightweight pina ladas that contained more fruit juice than alcohol-but what was the fun in that, she decided. However, on a brighter, more appealing note, if stuffy, uptight Cameron Sinclair continued to believe she was tipsy, she might be able to get away with all sorts of outrageous and wicked mischief.

And that was certainly her idea of fun.

That thought improved her mood immensely, because she'd love nothing more than putting one over on this man. If he had the inclination to rescue what he perceived as a damsel in distress, who was she to argue? She'd give him exactly that-a helpless woman in need of saving-until she decided it was time to end the farce and prove to him that she'd been completely lucid the entire time.

The look on his face when he realized the joke was on him was bound to be priceless and worth a good laugh.

With that in mind, she let her body relax and glanced up at him from beneath heavy-lidded lashes. "My mind is functioning just fine, sugar," she refuted in a slow, convincing drawl with the slightest bit of a slur. "See what I mean about you not being able to handle fun?"

The frown creasing his brows deepened into a scowl. "Watching you parade half-naked in a bar full of randy men isn't exactly my idea of fun."

Hmmm, such censure in his tone. That was the thing about Cameron-despite being attracted to her, she knew he disapproved of the way she lived her life, along with her assertive and uninhibited personality. Now, she decided being drunk gave her even more license to be brazen, to touch him without guilt, to enjoy their attraction and find out exactly what kind of temptation Cameron couldn't resist.

She tipped her head, letting her disheveled hair fall around her face, and stared in fascination at his mouth, which had been the source of many of her late-night fantasies. She wondered what it would take to see those lips smile at her in one of those slow, sexy grins she knew he was capable of. She wondered how his seductive mouth would feel pressed against her own in a deep, hot kiss, or skimming along her neck, her breasts…

She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight, and gave into the urge to place her hands on his chest. She'd thought a lot about his incredibly honed body and what it looked like naked. She figured this was probably the closest she'd ever get to finding out-by feel.

As soon as she touched him, his muscles flexed beneath her palms and his breathing hitched. She felt the heat of him through his shirt, along with the way his heartbeat accelerated.

She held back a secret female smile. Oh, he was far, far from immune to her. Just as she was certain he'd been far from indifferent to her dancing up on that stage a while ago.

She decided to call him on it.

"Awww, come on, sugar," she said in a breathy voice as her fingers brushed over his nipples, which were as hard as her own. "Watching me in that wet T-shirt didn't turn you on, not even a little bit?"

"Nope." He sounded very sure of himself.

She didn't believe his adamant denial. Not for a second. "You're such a liar, Cameron," she said and set out to prove it. With her gaze holding his, she skimmed a hand down his torso, past the waistband of his jeans and lower… until she held the most masculine part of him in her hand. He released a hiss of breath, and satisfaction curled through her when she found him already aroused, the firm length of him impressive in size.

He was definitely more than a handful. Desire curled low and deep in her belly at the heady thought of that aggressive male flesh filling her in all the different ways she'd imagined and fantasized about over the past few months.

Satisfied with the evidence she'd discovered, she let a sultry smile emerge. "Unless this is a very thick sock stuffed in your pants, I'd have to say you are a little bit turned on."

A strangled sound erupted from his throat, and he yanked her hand away, as if her touch had the ability to burn. His fingers circled her wrist, and his thumb pressed against the rapid pulse beating there. "That smart mouth of yours is going to get you into big trouble one day, sweetheart."

"Promises, promises," she taunted softly, which earned her a warning look from him that did nothing to quell her shameless approach. "Actually, it's nice to see I can get a rise out of you after all."

The double entendre wasn't lost on him, and for a moment it looked as though he was going to say something in response to her comment. Then he shook his head as if to clear it, causing the dim lights in the hall to cast intriguing golden highlights through his soft-looking strands of hair.

"Give me your car keys."

She blinked at him, thrown by his abrupt request. "I didn't drive. I came with Carrie."

"Even better." He ignored the two young college girls who turned down the hallway, whispering and giggling as they passed them on their way to the women's room. "Where's your purse?"

"I didn't bring one." She had her money, apartment key, and lipstick in the small pouch clipped to the waistband of her skirt.

"Good. One less thing to worry about." He tightened his grip on her arm. "Let's go," he said and started back down the corridor toward the bar area, with her in tow.

The wet T-shirt contest was over, but the place seemed even more packed than before and twice as rowdy. The music was loud, and Mia actually had a difficult time keeping up with Cameron as he made his way through the crowd. He stopped at the table her roommate, Gina, had claimed earlier, and Carrie was there, sitting alone and nursing a drink.