The brush of fingertips… the turn of her head… meeting her eyes… watching her dance… The lights of the club spun and pulsed, constantly changing color, and threatened to drive Kyle out of his mind. He already had a headache from the noise of the crowd, the thrum of the bass and the three vodkas he’d consumed while watching Kara dance with her three single girlfriends. This kind of thing had always been more up her alley t...