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Kaitlin managed a nod, and could only be thankful Daniel wasn’t a mind-reader as her treacherous brain took the idea of being taken out of her clothes and warmed up and ran with it.
Stop it.
This was
nothing more than a reaction to the panic attack. ‘Let’s go.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
TWO HOURS LATER Daniel rose as Kaitlin entered the tastefully furnished comfortable lounge, where a medley of cream and red sofas and overstuffed armchairs were arranged against a backdrop of Scottish landscapes and a vista of the real live Caledonian Canal seen through the enormous wall-wide windows.
Kaitlin walked across the room with her customary grace, all trace of panic eradicated. Her slightly damp hair fell in a sleek Titian curtain to touch her shoulders, and she wore a simply cut white blouse edged with lace over a pair of jeans. She looked gorgeous and exuded a clean, flowery smell he couldn’t identify but which teased his nostrils.
Desire made him almost groan out loud, and it took every ounce of his will to keep him standing still. Kaitlin had made it clear she wasn’t interested, and whilst his experience told him her body wasn’t fully on board with that decision it wasn’t in his psyche to force an admission of attraction.
Anyway, getting involved with Kaitlin was a bad, bad idea. Stupid on all levels. It would embroil him in a media hype he truly didn’t want. But also Kaitlin was too complicated—he still couldn’t fathom the reasons for her deception in Barcelona, and he sensed the existence of baggage that he should have no desire to open.
Yet for some reason he wanted to know what made her tick, and that was a mistake—the first footfall on a slippery path. Curiosity would lead to entanglement and the formation of bonds, however tenuous—ties that would have the potential to bind or, perhaps worse, to be broken. Either way, pain was the result.
There it was again—the grief etched on his mother’s face when he’d left. Grief he had caused.
So any form of involvement with Kaitlin was a no-go zone. His cardinal relationship rule—keep it clean, simple and short-term—needed to remain inviolate.
‘Feeling better?’
‘Yes. Thank you.’
‘You should have told me you were scared of water.’
Kaitlin lifted her shoulders and the sudden weariness on her face touched him with compassion.
‘I hoped it would be OK...that the phobia would have gone.’
‘How long have you had it?’
Her reluctance to answer was palpable in the way she smoothed her hands down her jeans, but then she turned to face him, held his gaze with an aloofness that he believed to be her best defence method.
‘A few years.’ A shadow darkened the green of her eyes to jade.
‘Have you seen anyone about it?’
‘No need. It’s not like I have a yen to swim the Channel. I can manage it. I will manage it.’
Her voice was cool and determined, and if he hadn’t witnessed her panic attack earlier he would have believed her without question,
‘Uh-uh.’ Daniel shook his head. ‘Not on my watch. No way are you kayaking tomorrow.’
‘Yes, I am. The whole point of today was to prepare me for tomorrow.’
Admiration touched him that she was willing to put herself through the ordeal again, but he shook his head. ‘Not necessary.’
‘Yes, it is. I will not let this phobia win—I can’t.’
The grit in her voice, the starkness of her tone indicated a depth to Lady Kaitlin he hadn’t realised existed.
‘I made a commitment to this exercise and I will honour it. The whole point of my presence is to bring publicity to the campaign. I can’t do that if I’m not there.’
‘It’s not the publicity I’m concerned about. It’s you.’
