‘Whereas here you encourage people to think about it. And that is interesting too.’
‘In what way?’
‘It’s you, isn’t it? This is your project, your input. I saw how those kids looked at you—they care about your opinion and I saw how proud you are of them.’
There was a pause and she couldn’t help it—she grinned.
‘You’re blushing.’
‘I am not blushing.’
‘Yes, you are.’ Without thought she reached up. ‘Right there.’
Lord knew she meant to point at his cheek, but somehow along the line the wires got crossed between her brain and her fingers and instead she brushed her hand down the angle of his cheekbone, along the firm line of his jaw tinged with early-afternoon shadow.
Her breath caught in her throat and for too long—way too long—her hand remained against his skin. Until finally her brain caught up with events and panic descended, sending the order to snatch her fingers away.
Unfortunately the panic also took a stranglehold on her vocal cords and no words, no excuses, no witty quip came to her lips.
‘Now I think it’s you who may be blushing.’
His deep voice caressed her skin and then he lifted a hand and oh-so-gently trailed a finger down her own cheek. Her tummy clenched at the hot flash of desire that shot through her.
‘Right there.’
It was a good thing he didn’t know that right now he’d be hard put to find a part of her body that wasn’t flushed with heat. An image of his finger continuing its trail streamed through her brain and she closed her eyes and summoned up the power of common sense.
Hadn’t she learnt her lesson? Learnt how attraction could deceive and twist and lead her astray? Enough. This man had a goal—to keep her from her story—and maybe his intent now was to distract her from her purpose.
Moving backwards, she summoned a rictus smile. But as she forced herself to look at him she saw his expression was as full of horror as her own, and she knew that whatever had just happened Marcus’s surprise equalled her own.
That hadn’t been a strategic move by Lycander’s Chief Advisor—in fact he looked as flummoxed as she felt. He, however, was recovering considerably quicker.
‘Right. We seem to have got distracted by a blushing contest. I declare it a draw. Now, why don’t I show you around the inside of the centre?’
He nodded towards the group of teens, who were still deep in conversation.
‘For the record, these kids are Lycander’s future, and I want them to have a future that doesn’t include seeing the inside of a prison. They deserve a lot more than that.’
His words pulled her into reality, brought her focus back. She nodded, deciding that the best way to go was to expel the whole memory of the past few minutes and erase it from her timeline. Hard, though, when her skin still tingled. She tried to concentrate solely on her surroundings, creating a memory of the image because she knew that this was a place she would like to write about.
April could see the thought that had been put into the interior of the centre, the efforts to make it look less institutional and more ‘homelike’. No doubt a lot of the youths here didn’t have the best home life, and so would appreciate the comfy sofas and recliner chairs and bean bags, the television and the well-stocked bookshelves, the up-to-date magazines stacked on tables.
There was a gym, a room with a pool table, a ping-pong table and then, after going down a corridor, they entered a room that contained a boxing ring.
‘Boxing?’ April tried to keep the disapproval from her voice.
‘Yes. Training is a great way to let off steam. There’s a whole lot of illegal boxing that goes on in the streets—the kind that can actually kill. I want this to be somewhere kids can come and pursue boxing safely.’
‘But it’s dangerous and violent and...’
‘It’s a sport. One that requires discipline and dedication. Danger and violence is on the streets.’
‘So, do you box?’
‘Yes.’
Heaven help her—because April certainly couldn’t help herself. An image of him stripped down, training with a punch bag, his muscles a testimony to discipline and dedication, shot across her mind.