lot of things but he discovered—rather to his surprise—that being looked at as if he was some sort of moral derelict by those big blue eyes was not one of them.
‘If it matters so much to you, I was, but I’m not now.’ He saw her slender hunched-up shoulders slump in relief. ‘Though why it should be so important to you I don’t understand…’
And Darcy wasn’t about to explain. Having an affair with a married man—even if she hadn’t known he was at the time—was not the sort of thing she felt like sharing.
‘I’d introduce the subject of morals if I thought you’d understand.’
‘I don’t see where morals come into it,’ he drawled. ‘You didn’t do anything…’
‘If I had…would you have…?’ Cheeks flaming, she struck her forehead with the palm of her hand. ‘Oh, God!’ she wailed. ‘Me and my mouth…!’ How to take an embarrassing situation and make it ten times worse in one easy-to-follow lesson!
His eyes automatically moved to the object of her contempt. The muscles in his strong throat worked overtime.
‘Yes, I’d have kissed you back,’ he admitted throatily. The words seemed drawn from him against his will.
Her eyes widened. ‘You would…?’ She saw his lips twitch at the incredulity in her voice. ‘I knew that.’ A puzzled frown crinkled her smooth brow. ‘Then why didn’t you…?’
Reece’s bark of rueful laughter brought her back to her senses—and not before time. He stared at her flushed face for a couple of moments before replying.
‘You don’t kiss married men; I don’t kiss girls young enough to be my…kid sister.’
It was the very last explanation Darcy had expected to hear. ‘How quaint that you’ve got principles.’
‘It comes as as much of a shock to me as it does to you,’ he assured her drily. ‘It’s getting cold out here.’ He spoke abruptly now, as if the humour of the situation was wearing thin. ‘If you really can’t stomach the idea of giving me a lift back I should be able to make alternative arrangements.’
Darcy touched his arm; he didn’t flinch but his rigidity didn’t suggest relaxed and carefree—was it possible he was not entirely immune to the contact? This not unflattering possibility was heady stuff.
‘How old exactly do you think I am?’ Repressing a smug smile, she worked her way towards her grand finale.
Whilst it might have been wiser to leave him in ignorance, given the dangerous sexual chemistry in the air, she wanted the satisfaction of establishing herself as a mature woman of the world in his eyes. Perhaps for once in her life she wanted danger…? Her eyes slid over his tall, rangy frame before coming to rest on his face, and she gulped; he registered high enough on the danger scale to satisfy the most reckless risk-taker, she conceded.
‘Nineteen…twenty maybe.’
‘I’m twenty-seven.’
His chin came up and the dark veil of lashes lifted from his high, chiselled cheekbones. His narrowed eyes raked her face. ‘Not possible.’
‘Furthermore,’ she continued, breathless after his intense scrutiny, ‘I’m not some teenage virgin.’ Like he really wanted to know that, Darcy.
‘What are you, then?’
‘Your best hope of getting home, mate.’
His mobile lips quirked; his expression was still rapt. ‘I’d not forgotten that. I was actually wondering what you do when you’re not doing the angel-of-mercy act.’
A wistful expression flitted across her face. ‘At this moment I should be skiing.’
‘But you were lured away by the glamour of deepest, darkest Yorkshire?’
His sneering irony brought an annoyed frown to her face. She took any criticism of her beloved Dales very personally.
‘There was a family crisis,’ she told him tersely.
‘So they called you.’ That would figure.
Darcy resented his tone. ‘I don’t mind,’ she flared. ‘Who else would they call?’
‘You tell me. My recollection is a bit cloudy, but there didn’t seem any shortage of family members from what I saw.’
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ she mumbled. ‘I get a panic attack every time I think about how many people I’m meant to be cooking Christmas lunch for.’
‘Is this the same girl—sorry, woman, who considers every strand of tinsel sacred…?’ he taunted gently.
‘This is the woman,’ she countered angrily, ‘who is trying to step into her mother’s shoes and failing miserably!’ The instant the impetuous retort emerged from her lips she regretted it; she regretted it even more when she saw the curiosity on his face.
‘Your mother’s ill…?’
‘No, she’s not. She’s…away.’
His dark brows lifted. ‘Another man…’ It might have been a trick of the light but Darcy thought his hard eyes actually softened. ‘Bad luck, kid. It happens.’
Darcy was furious and horrified by his casual assumption that her mother would have an affair. ‘Not to my family! My mother has gone to a retreat to recharge her batteries, that’s all…’ Tears prickled the backs of her eyelids and her voice thickened emotionally. ‘And I’m not a kid.’
Reece looked down into her stormy upturned face. ‘Want to talk about it?’ he was surprised to hear himself offer; he wasn’t prone to encouraging soul-baring.
‘Not to you.’ Darcy thought he looked relieved rather than disappointed by her blunt response.
‘Fair enough.’
She eyed him suspiciously before she eventually nodded and blew on her icy fingertips. ‘If the interrogation’s over, perhaps we should get along before hypothermia sets in.’
Face burning with embarrassment and humiliation, she turned abruptly on her heel. She deliberately turned her face to the icy embrace of the cold north wind and, as luck would have it, found the car almost immediately.
‘I can’t find the keys,’ she admitted after turning her pockets and handbag inside-out and upside-down.
Reece, who had watched her feverish attempts silently, walked around the car to join her.
‘Might these be what you were looking for?’
Relief was mingled with chagrin as she saw he was indicating the familiar bunch of keys inserted in the driver’s door. He pulled them out, and instead of dropping them into the palm she held out he placed them in a way that meant his fingers brushed against her wrist. The tingle that shot up her extended arm was neat electricity.
‘Thanks,’ she mumbled without looking at him. She couldn’t
