when the award was presented.
Public speaking wasn’t his forte. He preferred to speak with his work, with his design, with his buildings, not his words.
But when the time came, Daisy clapped madly and beamed at him encouragingly when Douglas Standish beckoned him to the podium to accept his award.
Alex made it brief. He gripped the podium and stared into the bright lights as he thanked the hospital board who had given him the opportunity to design the wing and the committee who had given him the award. It was what he had prepared, and it was all he had intended to say.
But before he could walk away, his gaze slid across the hundreds of people in the room and, looking down, he didn’t see the lights. He saw Daisy.
His mouth went dry at the sight of her upturned face, at her avid expression, her tantalizing smile. And he didn’t walk away. He looked at her, spoke to her.
His voice was less stilted and more ragged as he said, “I hope this wing makes a difference to the patients. I hope it gives them the safe haven they need to get well and—” he paused, his eyes still locked with hers “—the connections to the world outside to keep them strong.”
Like your father never had. Like my brother never had. And you ‘re the only one who knows why I did it.
He could see that in her eyes, the realization dawning, her lips parting in a silent O.
Alex jerked his gaze away and abruptly shut his mouth. Then, clutching the award in a sweaty hand, he said hoarsely, “Thank you all,” and strode back to his chair and sat down.
His heart was crashing in his chest. He didn’t look at Daisy. He didn’t have to. He could sense her eyes on him. The awareness, the emotion vibrated between them. So damn much emotion it felt like being swept off by a tidal wave. He kept his gaze resolutely on the platform where Douglas was coming back to speak.
With a few brief words he thanked Alex again, then thanked all the hospital’s staff and benefactors for their support. Then the doors opened to the adjoining ballroom and the small live orchestra just beyond those doors began to play.
People stood up, couples headed toward the dance floor. Alex breathed again.
Abruptly he stood and held out a hand. “Let’s dance.”
PUTTING her hand in his was like touching a live wire.
A current of electricity seemed to flow between them, one even stronger than the flickering awareness she’d felt all night.
Daisy was aware of the pressure of Alex’s strong fingers wrapping around hers as he led her through the doors and onto the dance floor. But it was nothing compared to her awareness when he took her in his arms.
She almost stumbled against him as she tried to do the opposite and keep a respectable distance between them. It was a battle because every instinct in her went to him like a moth to the proverbial flame.
Every touch was memorable. His fingers encased hers warmly. She was exquisitely aware of his hand pressing lightly at the small of her back. She was close enough that she could catch a faint hint of soap and aftershave. And a quick glance showed her how smooth-shaven his jaw was. She remembered it rougher, had loved to stroke her hand over it, stubbled one way, smooth the other.
Abruptly she turned her head, trying to follow his lead at the same time and nearly tripped over his foot. He caught her, pulled her closer. And Daisy knew the sensation of her body melting into his, as if she belonged there, wrapped in his arms.
She had danced with lots of other men. She had felt other men’s hands on her body. None—not even Cal’s—evoked such strong reactions.
Even now, knowing he was not for her, knowing for a fact that she and Alex had no future, Daisy could not deny that Alex’s touch, Alex’s smile, Alex’s gaze brought to life something inside her that no other man’s ever had.
Dancing with Alex was, just as it had been five years ago, the Cinderella experience that Daisy had remembered.
She understood now how she had been swept away by it. There was a feeling of rightness, of perfect understanding, that she’d never had with anyone else. And it scared her to feel it again and know how wrong it had been.
She forced herself to remain clearheaded and sane. She looked away from his hard jaw to study the room, determined to commit it to memory. She focused on the music, tried to think of the title, the composer, to isolate the instruments. And all the while she was aware of the man who held her in his arms.
His breath teased the tendrils of her hair. His trouser-clad legs brushed the silk of her dress. And every touch, every brush set off a hum of something electric. And the study of the room and the music and everything else faded away.
It was all right, she told herself. Nothing was going to happen on a dance floor. He couldn’t sweep her off her feet. She couldn’t slide a hand between the buttons of his shirt.
So where was the harm in appreciating the feel of hard muscles under her fingertips? Why not give in, just for the moment, to the instinctive rhythm they seemed to engage in when they moved to the music? As long as she didn’t allow herself to remember the instinctive rhythm they’d brought to their lovemaking …
There was a point beyond which lay foolishness. Daisy had been there once. Never again.
Careful, she warned herself. Be careful.
But her head turned and so did his. Her lips brushed his jaw. His touched her ear. A shiver ran from the hairs on her neck to the tips of her toes. Her body trembled. Her knees wobbled. And deep in the center of her, something ached with the desire she refused to admit.
She took a breath. “So,” she said, “tell me about Caroline.”
She was gratified when Alex seemed briefly to stumble. But then he caught himself and without even looking directly at him, she saw his jaw ease as if he were smiling.
“Caroline is amazing,” he said. “She’s quick. Witty. Beautiful.”
His voice was warm, animated. Of course it was. Caroline was his woman. Remember that, Daisy told herself sharply and kept asking him Caroline-related questions.
Maybe it was masochistic. Maybe it was just the only way to keep her common sense. Whatever it was, it helped. Daisy made herself listen as he told her all about the ad campaign Caroline was developing that had taken her to Hong Kong. Alex told her about how Caroline had been headhunted by five different companies in the past two years.
“She’s amazingly successful. Definitely making her mark. She’s even thinking she might go out on her own in the next couple of years.” He clearly approved of her ambition and her talent. Daisy forced herself to think about that and not about the way his legs brushed against hers.
“So what are you waiting for if she’s so wonderful?” She ventured a glance at his face, wanting to see his expression.
A tiny crease appeared between his brows. The muscles in
