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‘What?’ The start she gave sent half her fruit juice—she had decided halfway through the concert when she’d felt her consonants blurring that she had drunk enough alcohol for one night—slurping over the side of her glass.

‘I know censure when I see it, I just don’t know what it’s for,’ Slade said quite pleasantly, his eyes unreadable. ‘So perhaps you’d care to enlighten me?’

‘Censure?’ She tried not to blush but it was a lost cause.

‘Censure,’ he affirmed flatly. He manoeuvred her into a corner as he spoke, moving his big body in front of her so he effectively screened her from the rest of the noisy throng. ‘So, I repeat—what have I done?’ he asked softly, watching her face.

‘You haven’t done anything, Slade; don’t be silly.’

‘You make me feel silly.’

It was so unexpected and so un-Slade-like that Daisy’s mouth fell open in a little gape before she shut it with a snap.

‘Silly and perplexed and at a loss,’ he murmured softly, ‘and I don’t like that. I don’t like it at all.’

She stared at him to see if this was some kind of strange joke and then realised it wasn’t. He meant every word.

‘I don’t see how I make you feel like that,’ she said stiffly. ‘I haven’t said anything, have I? So how do I?’

Hell, how he wanted to touch her. Slade kept his expression purposely blank as he looked at the lovely uplifted face. She was soft and sweet-smelling and so fresh, but there was a thread of sheer steel under that marshmallow exterior.

‘Because all the time I feel you are waiting for me to do something abominable,’ he said with devastating directness. ‘You look at me sometimes as though I am a nasty smell.’

‘I don’t!’ She was terribly flustered now and tried to glance over his shoulder but he was too tall. ‘Shouldn’t we be talking to people…?’

‘I’m talking to the only person I’m interested in talking to,’ he returned smoothly. ‘Now, I can accept you’ve had a rough ride over the last few years but the whole male sex isn’t tarred with the same brush as your husband, you know. Some of us actually think with our brains rather than that other essential part of our anatomy.’

‘Slade!’ If anyone heard them…!

‘And it’s no crime to notice that you are a very beautiful and very desirable woman; in fact any man who doesn’t notice that is either in his dotage or of a different sexual persuasion.’

She stared at him but she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

‘I make no apology for the fact that I would like you in my bed, Daisy,’ he continued in an almost conversational tone of voice, ‘but that doesn’t mean I would try to trick you there or force you against your will. There’s a spark between us, something very powerful, and don’t deny it because you have felt it every bit as strongly as I have, but it takes two to tango and each partner should be absolutely sure of what they want.’

She couldn’t believe she was having this amazing conversation. She swallowed hard and then said weakly, ‘There’s nothing between us; I work for you, that’s all.’

‘Now that really is being silly.’ He moved his body slightly, just enough for one hard, brawny thigh to touch hers, and she felt the contact like an electric shock, her eyes opening wide. ‘See?’ he said in a satisfied murmur.

He was the most eg

otistical, smug, arrogant, presumptuous man she had ever met, Daisy told herself helplessly, but he was also right. Not that she would ever admit it. She would rather walk through blazing coals of fire first, but this…awareness between them had been there from the first moment they had laid eyes on each other. It was a relief to admit it at last, although she had felt safer when she had been trying to convince herself the attraction was only on her side.

But then she had been physically attracted to Ronald too, and he to her, and look what a colossal mistake sexual desire had led her into then.

‘Sexual attraction means nothing.’ She had spoken her thoughts before she had time to consider their portent.

‘Now I’m sorry, but I would have to disagree with that,’ said Slade expressionlessly. ‘I admit it’s only part of an overall relationship between a man and a woman, but without it I’d say a couple would be struggling.’

‘That’s so typical of a man,’ she shot back defensively, whilst admitting to herself she was trying to steer the conversation into general rather than personal terms.

‘I can’t speak for other men, only myself, but I make the statement from experience,’ Slade said so matter-of-factly that for a second the import of what he was revealing didn’t dawn on her. And then she stared at him in amazement.

Daisy expelled a long breath. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked blankly, drawn against her will to ask. She didn’t want to know anything more about this deeply disturbing and complex man; she really didn’t. Everything she did find out was drawing her further into his all-consuming orbit and that was not how she wanted it to be. Every time she saw him with Francesco, was witness to his gentleness with the boy and his love for the child, it unsettled her, and his attitude to his staff, his kindness and utter lack of pomposity—none of it was doing her any good. She needed to dislike him. In fact it was becoming more and more essential.

Slade turned slightly, his profile to her as he said, his voice very even, ‘I had a younger brother, Giuseppe. When my father died and my mother returned to Italy he became very much more Italian than English and his great friend was Luisa’s—my wife’s—twin brother, Lorenzo. The pair of them were dare-devils, you know? Always encouraging each other in foolhardy ventures. Whether it was a result of some foolishness I don’t know but they were killed mountaineering when they were both just twenty years of age. Our families were devastated.’

‘Oh, Slade.’ She stared at the grim profile in horror. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She didn’t know what else to say.

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