She wasn’t sure why. It was basically an innocent touch—he simply hadn’t let go of her hand since he’d helped her to her feet. They were going to be dancing in a few seconds anyway, so she wasn’t sure what the big deal was. He was a handsome, charismatic man, and his hand was warm and strong as it grasped hers. But it made her feel strange—almost ill—and she had to fight the instinct to pull her hand away. She didn’t. She was a grown woman, who shouldn’t act like she’d get cooties from holding hands with an attractive man. But she couldn’t help but compare her present discomfort with how natural it had felt to hold hands with Caleb after he’d helped her out of the car earlier. Not that they’d actually been holding hands—not like that, anyway. But, still, she hadn’t had the least desire to pull her hand out of Caleb’s grip. It was funny—how familiarity could transform experiences that might otherwise be the same. Baron swung her into position, and they fell into step together smoothly, easily.
