QUOTE : So, Dani . . . is that short for Danielle?” I searched for you, I tried to convey with my eyes. Scoured the Internet for your sister’s wedding announcement, knowing you shared a maiden name. Hunted through the White Pages . . . <br /><br />“Danica.” <br /><br />Ah, no wonder. I hoped every Danielle James in the tri-state area would forgive me for cyber-stalking them. It hadn’t occurred to me there might be a variant. “So, um . . . how’d you two meet?” And where? And when? My brain wanted to scream. And why. Why, why, why? <br /><br />Nash’s arm slid around Dani’s waist, pulling her against his hip. “We met on tour, if you can believe that. She was a damsel in distress.” <br /><br />Dani gave a cute snort. “You thought I was a groupie in heat.” <br /><br />“My bad.” Nash gave a shrug and winked in my direction. “I’ll never forget, seeing her out the tour bus window for the first time. She was standing by this old, broken-down van at the side of the road, waving a white lacy thong like a matador—” He butted his forehead against her shoulder, like a big bull come to rut. <br /><br />“Oh?” I managed, swallowed hard. The espresso I’d had earlier threatened to burn its way back up my throat. <br /><br />“It wasn’t a thong , you perv!” Dani gave a tug on his long locks. “It was a camisole. And it was the only thing white I had.