Damn it, Cabrera." She stayed at his side, as he’d known she would.

"Ian."

"Tell me what you know."

"Call me Ian." Testing her reaction, and his own, he reached down and linked his fingers with hers. A shot of electricity and instant warmth slid up his arm. Her hands were soft, free of calluses except the small one on the inside of her middle finger from writing. "And I’ll tell you what I think."

"I need facts." She pulled her hand. He held firm. "Fine. Ian."

"Ah." He flustered her. Her heart skipped. "You really are a charmer."

"And you get off on dragging things out."

"You don’t know me well enough to know what gets me off."

"Nor do I want to."

Sparring with her fed an intellectual hunger he hadn’t known he had. She had a quick wit and even now that she knew he couldn’t see, she didn’t dwell endlessly on his lack of vision. Even his family forgot to think of him as a whole man at times. "Don’t protest too soon, Kieralyn. Patience is a virtue."

"And that’s a shitty cliché."

"Shitty because you don’t like how true it is." He stopped outside the door of Jazz on The Rocks. "Like now."

"How so? What did you hear that sent you here?"

He could have said he’d come just for the music, but it was her case and she might see something he missed. He’d just have to think fast if El Dogo was inside.

A couple approached. Ian pulled her intimately against him. With his lips against her ear, her scent once again slipping into him, he closed his eyes and sighed. "This club may be the one the recording was made in."

"And you know that…"

"Based on the sounds of the place. Different calibers of clubs have different levels of sound. Different décor impacts acoustics differently. The one on the recording was high class and near the beach."

"And this is one?"

"One of two in Miami." He slid his lips along her neck, tasted seduction and craved a more thorough exploration of her. "You be my eyes. Tell me what and who you see. Where they are. What they’re doing."

"Let me guess…" Her throat bobbed in a swallow. Her skin heated. Her heart pounded faster. "You’re my ears."

"I could differentiate your heartbeat from the masses of people on this street. If there’s something worth hearing in the club, I’ll pick up on it." Her hands rested at his waist. "And if there isn’t?"

"We try the next one."

"What’s the catch, Cabrera?"

"Uh-uh." Suddenly determined to torment her every time she called him Cabrera, he nibbled her lobe. His blood rushed from his head, leaving him a little dizzy. "Call me Ian."

"What’s the catch, Ian?"

"You have to pretend to be into me." He slid his hands over hers and tugged on her arms so they wrapped around him. "Really into me."