Kathryn Ross - The Love-Child

‘I was managing perfectly until you came along,’ she told him primly.

‘Yes ... so I noticed.’ He smiled at her, his eyes moving over her features with a kind of absorbed fascination. The way he was looking at her made her heart beat crazily against her ribs.

He was sitting very close to her, she realised suddenly, and there was a warmth in his eyes that really threw her.

‘You’ve got talc on your nose,’ he said, a humorous note in his voice.

‘Oh!’ Embarrassment swept through her. She had thought that he was looking at her admiringly and instead of that he had probably been thinking that she looked an utter mess.

Before she could lift up a hand to rub the offending talc away he reached out and did it for her. The touch of his hand against her skin sent a shooting sensation through her.

‘There, that’s better. You’ve got a very pretty nose.’ The dark blue eyes swept over her again, then seemed to linger on the soft curves of her tips.

She felt a dizziness inside her that she had never felt before.

‘A pretty face, too,’ he murmured, and for just a moment all hint of humour was missing from his expression and he was studying her very seriously.

For a second she thought he was going to say something else...something deeper.

Cathy moistened her lips. She didn’t understand the tension that had suddenly sprung up between them. It was thrilling... It was ludicrous... She was here to get a story, she told herself staunchly; she couldn’t feel any kind of attraction for him...it wasn’t right.

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