This was ridiculous—the entire concept of social awkwardness was an impossibility to Kaitlin. She had not spent years of her life perfecting her conversational skills to be beaten by this. Whatever this was.
Pressing her lips together, she considered the options. Clearly she needed to re-arm herself, pull her Lady Kaitlin persona together and keep it together. Somehow Daniel Harrington had messed with her head—and that had to be because of this unwanted physical attraction, this stupid hum that she had never felt before and needed to eradicate or at the very least neutralise.
‘Penny for them?’
Daniel’s deep voice broke her reverie and she glanced up. ‘They aren’t worth it. I’m sure your thoughts would be far more interesting.’
That was better.
‘I’m not sure that is the adjective I’d use.’
Uh-oh. There was an amused tone to his voice—a glint in his eye that sent a skitter of heat along her veins.
‘What adjective would you use?’
‘Inappropriate probably best covers it.’
‘Oh.’ There was no textbook answer to that.
‘Don’t worry—I am not about to act on my thoughts, but perhaps we need to clear the air? So that we can get on with what we are here to do—focus on the teenagers.’
‘OK. You first.’
He pushed his empty plate away and picked up his wine. ‘I’m still attracted to you. A lot. But it doesn’t have to be a big deal.’
‘But it is a big deal to me.’ Kaitlin closed her eyes in silent despair; disbelief rippling through her at her blurted words even as her mind raced to think how to explain them. ‘Because...because it feels awkward.’
‘“Awkward” as in you feel embarrassed or uncomfortable? Or “awkward” as in the attraction still exists?’
With a supreme effort she forced her brain into gear, shut down the idiotic thrill that surged through her bloodstream at the knowledge that he felt the same attraction. Big-time.
Thrill or not, it made life too complicated. One-sided attraction was bad—mutual attraction was disastrous. So she’d opt for a strategy that had served her well. Good old denial.
‘For me, the attraction no longer exists—Barcelona was an aberration that makes me feel both embarrassed and uncomfortable.’
The sheer scale of the lie was immense, but she kept her gaze on his, channelled every fibre of Lady Kaitlin and hoped her body language was on point.
‘I just want to get through this week and move on.’
Daniel was silent. Then he lifted his shoulders in another shrug. ‘I acknowledge that I misread the situation and I apologise if I have caused you embarrassment.’
‘Thank you.’ Guilt touched her, along with a sense of profound regret. ‘I’ll help clear up and then I’ll head to my room.’
* * *
Kaitlin opened her eyes, stared up at the off-white Artex ceiling. Where was she? A feeling of panic invaded but she headed it off at the pass, studied the swirls and whorls of the plaster and allowed knowledge to seep in. Fort William. Scotland. She was safe.
The belated beep of her alarm was a reminder that she had set up a kayaking lesson, in the hope that it would prevent any unseemly panic the following day.
She swung her legs out of bed and picked her phone up from the pine chest of drawers that doubled as a bedside cabinet. Taxi called, bathroom utilised, she donned the outfit she’d set out the previous night on the square-backed cream armchair tucked in the room’s corner. Jeans, T-shirt, a plain white shirt and a dark blue lightweight knit jumper provided the layers recommended.
Half an hour later she exited the house, relieved that there was no sight nor sound of Daniel, and twenty minutes after that she stood at the meeting point.
Her head told her to feast her eyes on the scenery—the vibrant green foliage, the backdrop of dense rolling woodland—to breathe deeply of the scent of heather and gorse that sprinkled the air.
But her gaze kept being pulled inexorably back to the water, and the sight of it caused her heart to make a spirited attempt to leap from her chest. Her lungs constricted and little black dots danced the tango on her retinas.
Breathe.