Anticipation at being a first-time exhibitor in the World Tattoo Convention put a spring into her steps. At the entrance, people wove in a crisscross pattern, jockeying for the fastest track to reach the display booths. All around her, conversations buzzed, adding to her excitement. She lifted the plastic badge slung around her neck, angled it toward the security guard then turned left toward the area of her designated booth. And bumped smack into a male—solid muscle from chest to knees—and she stumbled. Firm hands grasped her upper arms and steadied her. “What’s your hurry?” The deep voice rumbling near her ear resonated through her bones, kicking up her heart rate, and set her further off-balance. Both hands tangled with the supple cotton of his T-shirt and held tight. All she saw before her was a broad expanse of black cloth. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking—” She glanced up—straight into midnight black eyes that seemed to look deep into her soul. Her gaze clung for a long moment then she forced herself to blink.
