"Probably some sort of primitive survival instinct. Too bad it wasn't working three months ago."

But the reality was that her para-senses had been instantly and indelibly tuned to Cruz Sweetwater the first moment they had met. She had never actually concocted a mental image of her personal dream man, but she had recognized Cruz the moment she met him. This is the one you've been waiting for.

That bone-deep certainty had intensified with each hour they had spent together and with each scorching kiss. Three months and a futile lawsuit later, the psychic bond had not weakened one bit. She was pretty sure that three years, three decades, or the rest of her life could pass, and still a frisson of knowing recognition would alert her if Cruz suddenly showed up anywhere in her vicinity. You were supposed to be mine.

"Don't look now, but I think he's spotted you," Nancy said. "He's coming this way."

A cascade of tangled emotions slammed through Lyra. Anger, frustrated desire, the yearning for revenge, and a fragile sense of hope all snarled together in a chaotic mix.

"Looks like he's expecting you to make a run for the ladies' room," Nancy said. "He's circling around through the crowd, cutting off that route."

That did it. Adrenaline, hot and bracing, surged through Lyra. If there was one thing that was sure to make her stand her ground tonight, it was the knowledge that Cruz thought she might try to bolt. She was a Dore, damn it. The last of her line. She had a family tradition to uphold. Dores did not run from anything. Most definitely they did not run from a Sweetwater.

She did not need Nancy's wide-eyed expression to tell her that Cruz had invaded her personal space. She could feel him directly behind her.