on her lips. “Not all at. I find you fascinating.”
She swallowed the unexpected lump in her throat. “You do?”
He nodded.
Had he moved closer? Against logic, against her ingrained sense of self-preservation, she swayed slightly toward him as if some invisible force was pulling her forward. Her gaze took in his features, memorizing the angle of his nose, the planes of his cheekbones. The fullness of his lips.
He gave her a crooked grin as his head dipped. She steadied herself, waiting, wondering, and fought the need to run, to protect herself.
Her eyes closed and her hands fisted in an effort to stay put. The air felt heavy as he came closer. Her breath hitched as old fears and unwanted memories battered at her consciousness.
His lips gently pressed against her forehead.
Her eyelids jerked open as confusion and then disappointment rushed in, filling her lungs to bursting.
“Good night, Gwen. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said before he turned and went into his own room.
She blinked. She put her hand to her hot cheeks.
What just happened?
For a brief moment she’d wanted him to kiss her. And he had. Only not in the way she’d expected.
Dope! Where would a kiss have led anyway?
Nowhere that she intended to go. That was for sure.
Becoming involved with her boss’s son was not something she was going to let happen.
Period.
End of story.
She fled to the sanctuary of her little room, wondering why she felt so let down.
By him or herself?
Chapter Three
The next morning Gwen awoke groggy from too little deep sleep. She didn’t regret spending the time the night before with the others. The bonding could only be good for the team.
She tried to analyze her feelings for Derek. He confused her and intrigued her. He obviously was ambitious and driven, yet there was a wildness in him that kept her on edge.
She had to keep a tight grip on the magnetic pull he had on her. Yes, he was good-looking. But more than that, something about him called to a restlessness inside her that she refused to unleash.
Best to keep a strictly professional demeanor around him and not form any sort of attachment.
With that settled in her mind, she dressed in black, stretchy yoga pants and a bright pink, long, lace-edged tunic T-shirt, then packed up and went to join the group in the common room where they were munching on scrambled eggs and toast. She immediately noticed Derek’s absence.
“Where’s Derek?”
Craig, sitting on the couch drinking from a water bottle, shrugged. He’d shaved and his dark hair was pulled back into its customary ponytail. His cargo pants and rust-colored Henley shirt made him look as though he was ready to go skateboarding rather than head to Africa.
“Took a run. Now showering,” Ned replied before stuffing his mouth with a bite of toast. He wore Bermuda shorts and a solid orange, short-sleeved button-down shirt. The outfit suggested he was a vacationer ready to go sightseeing, not travel halfway around the globe to help those less fortunate than himself.
Joyce dipped a tea bag in hot water. Her apparel was much more understated—dark jeans and a striped T-shirt. Her dark curls were stuffed under her hat. She’d applied a touch of makeup to accentuate her classical bone structure and wide eyes. “I wish I’d known he was going for a run. I’d have joined him.”
An unfamiliar sensation slid down Gwen’s spine. She frowned and shook it off before pouring some hot water from a silver pot into a flowered china cup. Whatever developed between Joyce and Derek was none of her business. Her only concern was to make sure he understood the work and came away appreciating the importance of what they did.
“I hope he’s ready soon,” she said to no one in particular.
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
Gwen’s whole being went on alert. She slowly pivoted and watched Derek come into the room wearing flat-front khaki shorts and a white, short-sleeved shirt hanging open over a print screen T-shirt of a basketball player making a jump shot. He exuded confidence and health. With his smooth square jaw and freshly blow-dried hair, he could easily be a model for some sports and fitness magazine.
Gwen forced her gaze from his long muscular legs to his eyes which glinted with a knowing amusement. As if he’d sensed her attraction before she had even become aware of it.
“Good,” she said in a decisive tone that hid the pounding of her heart—far from a “professional” reaction to the man.
Derek gave her a short nod as he moved past her to the table where the food had been set out. He put a piece of toast on a plate and then poured himself a cup of coffee.
Gwen drank her tea while the group chatted and finished up their breakfast. After paying for their stay they were off to Heathrow. Though Derek was considerate and charming, Gwen sensed a distance that hadn’t been there the night before. He didn’t tease her or flash his grin at all.
She should be thankful.
Really, she should.
As she settled into a seat in the waiting area at the gate, she wondered if she’d done something to offend him. She silenced a groan. Maybe she’d seemed too forward or willing to be kissed last night and that had repulsed him. Maybe he did find her dull even though he’d claimed the opposite.
She gave a sharp shake of her head as old echoes of worthlessness tried to rise. No. She was a strong independent woman who didn’t need validation from anyone, let alone a man she barely knew.
Over the years, guarding her heart and her space had become as natural as breathing.
If she stayed prepared and in control, she’d never have to be vulnerable again.
Derek leaned against a concrete pillar while the rest of the group sat in the stiff black chairs in the wide waiting area of the airline’s boarding gate. He didn’t see why they’d want to sit now when they’d be sitting for the next eight or so hours in the confining plane cabin.
He longed to get out and run off more of the relentless energy that buzzed through his system. The sprint from the morning had barely assuaged his need to move. He’d been keyed up ever since he’d almost kissed Gwen the night before.
Man, what had he been thinking?
At least he’d had the good sense to divert his mouth to the petal softness of her forehead and not touched the apricot-colored lips she’d offered. That would have been a huge mistake.
He acknowledged he was commitment-phobic. He’d certainly heard it from every female in his life,
