as she searched his dark eyes and saw the way they were focused on her and felt the way his hands moved down to her hips and were gentle but skilful on her body, she got a different sense of him.
As if she was viewing the man behind the man. As if, underneath that prickly, easily prone to irritation exterior, there was a man who knew how to make love to a woman in a way that thrilled her and drove her to excesses she hadn’t known she could reach...
And when he started to kiss her again, because of that sense of him, because of the rapturous tingling of all her senses, something she’d been denied for a long time, because of the feel of the hard planes of his body against her, because he was actually taller than she was and because there was something terribly, awe-inspiringly masculine about him unless you were a block of wood, she found herself kissing him back.
They drew apart briefly once. They were both breathing raggedly. He pulled the ribbon out of her hair and ran his fingers through it. She spread her fingers on his back and felt the sleek strength of it beneath his shirt.
Then he was kissing her again and her breasts were crushed against him as he held her hard.
It was the dining room door opening and a spontaneous whistle that brought Harriet Livingstone and Damien Wyatt back to earth.
Not that Damien betrayed any sign of discomfort, at first.
He released her in a leisurely way and tidied the collar of her dress before he said over her shoulder, ‘Charlie, this is Harriet Livingstone. Harriet—’ he put his hands on her shoulders ‘—it’s OK. Meet my brother, Charles Walker Wyatt. He’s renowned for rushing in where angels fear to tread.’
Harriet swallowed and put her hands up to try to tidy her hair before she forced herself to turn around.
Charles Walker Wyatt wasn’t as tall as his brother Damien and he looked to be several years younger. He also bore an arrested expression on his face, as of one who had received a smack on the head when least expecting it.
‘Holy...Mackerel, Damien!’ he exclaimed then. ‘The last thing I expected to find in the dining room of all places was you kissing a girl I’ve never laid eyes on! That’s hardly fools rushing in material—wouldn’t you agree, ma’am?’ he appealed to Harriet as he advanced towards them.
‘By the way, please forgive me,’ he went on, ‘for labelling you “a girl”—not that you’re not but it sounds sort of generic and I don’t mean to classify you like that. Not at all! But—’
‘Charlie.’ There was a definite warning note in Damien’s voice.
‘Damien?’ Charlie replied, looking innocent. ‘Just tell me what I’m allowed to say and do and I’ll try not to put a foot wrong!’
‘What anyone with a grain of courtesy or good sense would have done in the first place,’ his brother replied evenly. ‘Retreated and shut the flaming door!’
The last bit was said a little less than evenly and it struck Harriet that Damien Wyatt was not completely unaffected by his brother’s intrusion.
‘Ah.’ Charlie rubbed his chin. ‘OK—but actually, I’ve had a better idea. What’s wrong with me getting to know Miss Harriet Livingstone?’ And he looked admiringly at Harriet.
‘Everything,’ Damien snapped. ‘Just go away, Charlie!’ he added, his irritation and rising impatience plain to be seen.
Something Charles Walker Wyatt obviously saw for himself because he sketched a salute, did a military about-turn and said, ‘Just going, sir.’ He marched out smartly.
Damien waited until the door closed before turning back to Harriet. ‘Do you know something?’ he said bitterly. ‘Every time we get within cooee of each other, you and I, it turns out to be a shambles!’
Harriet swallowed. ‘I think I should just go. It could never work.’
‘Go?’ he said through his teeth, ‘How the hell can you kiss a guy like that and just go?’
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