‘You don’t have to do anything tomorrow. You’ve done your bit.’
‘I know, but I want to—and I believe I’ve come up with something useful. Most of those children don’t want charity—they want to make it on their own. The problem is the odds are stacked against them from the get-go. They will be judged because of their backgrounds and if they get knocked back time and again they will give up. I want to increase the odds of their success. I want to teach them how to project confidence even when they don’t feel it inside, to wear the right clothes, walk the right walk.’ All the things she had painstakingly done to construct Lady Kaitlin Derwent. ‘That will give them an edge.’
‘Is that how you feel? No confidence on the inside?’
His voice was low, genuine, and the edges of her façade crumbled.
‘Of course not.’ The words sounded brittle, even to her own ears. She uncurled her feet, placed the wine glass down with a thunk and rose to her feet. ‘Anyway, this isn’t about me. The point is I’d like to do this. I’ll take them shopping—you don’t need designer outfits or lots of money, it’s getting the colours right, a suitable cut, finding a style. I can help them—I know I can. So what do you think?’
‘I think it’s a fantastic idea.’
‘You do?’
‘I do.’
Kaitlin felt her lips curve up in a completely spontaneous smile. ‘Fabulous.’ She took a step forward, towards him. ‘Thank you, Daniel.’ Reaching out, she put a hand on his arm.
Big mistake, Kaitlin.
She’d swear she’d heard a fizz as her fingers contacted with his skin. Worse, she might well have given the smallest of moans.
Move your hand.
But her brain refused to send the requisite signal. Instead her gaze remained riveted to her hand on his arm.
‘Kaitlin...’
His voice was ever so slightly strained and she looked up, saw the unmistakeable heat in his eyes and felt an answering thrill.
‘I...’
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‘Dammit.’
With that he put his hand on her waist and gently tugged her forward into his embrace.
Desire knocked common sense down and trampled it; her arms reached up and looped round his neck. And then his lips touched hers and she was lost.
The taste of wine, the clean, just-out-of-the-shower scent of him, the intensity as he deepened the kiss all spiralled inside her. Thought was impossible. Ripples of desire tugged her nerve-endings and the intensity of sensation hollowed her tummy, caused a deep yearning for more. Pressing herself against him, she revelled in the strength of his body, in his small groan as she parted her lips.
She never wanted the moment to end—but finally common sense picked itself off the floor and shrieked a message, jolted her back to reality.
Pulling back, she stared at him—then away. Caught an image of herself in the ornate gilt mirror above the mantel. Hell. She barely recognised herself. Flushed, lips swollen, hair dishevelled, eyes glazed. What was she doing?
Focus—she had to pull this together. Had to locate her true self, pull the Lady Kaitlin Derwent mantle round her.
‘I’m sorry. That was obviously not a good move for either of us.’
Amazing how she could keep her voice so light. A quick smooth of her hair, a step backwards and an aloof, self-deprecating smile.
‘I think the wine must have gone to my head on top of all that unaccustomed exercise. The best thing is to forget all about it and put it behind us.’
His blue eyes bored into her. ‘If that’s what you want.’
Her heart pounded her ribcage. ‘There isn’t any alternative.’
‘Sure there is. There is always a choice, Kaitlin. We could take this further. Instead of fighting this attraction we could enjoy it. Enjoy Venice together.’