Free The Spaniard's Love-Child by Kim Lawrence Page A

voice and hoped like hell he couldn’t.
    â€˜You never know when your subconscious is going to hijack you, or so I’ve found,’ he drawled.
    Nell shot him a surprised look but found no evidence of the unusual note she had heard in his voice on his dark, lean features.
    â€˜Don’t you think that it is a defeatist attitude to give up on your dream?’
    His preoccupation with the subject of her lack of talent was beginning to irritate. ‘Determination is not a substitute for talent.’ Accepting that she didn’t have what it took had been one of the hardest things in her life. ‘It’s better to be realistic than waste a lot of time trying for something you’ll never achieve. I don’t want to be mediocre.’
    His shrewd eyes searched her face. ‘Is that a direct quote?’ One dark brow arched.
    Nell flushed. ‘Nobody puts words in my mouth.’
    Her angry claim brought his dark eyes zeroing in on her wide, soft lips. The brooding expression in them sent her stomach into a lurching nosedive.
    â€˜Don’t you think the public should be allowed to make their own mind up about what constitutes art? Haven’t many of the artists we now consider great been vilified by critics when they lived? If they had shown your spineless attitude the world would have been robbed of their legacy.’
    Nell blinked at the vehemence in his quiet voice. ‘I am not an original. I am a dabbler like thousands of others. The world didn’t lose anything when I hung up my brushes.’
    â€˜You don’t have to be an expert at something to get a lot of pleasure trying to do it better.’
    The beginnings of a suspicion that they were no longer discussing art was just forming in her mind when Raul’s next words confirmed it.
    â€˜I was pretty clueless at kissing once, but improving my technique provided me many hours of innocent pleasure.’
    Nell ran the tip of her tongue along her dry lips, wanting, but unable, to tear her eyes from his dark face. ‘Innocent?’
    Raul shrugged. ‘Well, these things are relative,’ he admitted huskily.
    â€˜You can hardly compare painting to kissing.’
    â€˜Both are an art form.’
    â€˜I suppose you consider yourself some sort of expert?’
    The febrile glitter in his eyes spelt danger. ‘Is that a challenge?’
    She pressed a hand to her throat; she could feel the vibration of her pulse through her fingertips. ‘Most definitely n…not.’ Her attempt to sound firm and faintly amused by his response failed abysmally. ‘I’m quite willing to accept you are the world’s best kisser without a demonstration.’ Her amused laughter faded away in the face of his unblinking, expressionless stare. ‘You didn’t come here to kiss me,’ she protested.
    A strange expression flickered into his dark eyes. ‘Didn’t I?’ He gave a twisted smile, which faded to a look of deadly intent. ‘Then if I didn’t I should have.’ The smile that formed on his lips nailed her feet to the floor. Her mind went blank as he advanced towards her. She just stood, her eyes wide, anticipation curling hot in the pit of her stomach.
    Her face lifted to his even before he framed her face between his big hands. His jaw tightened, drawing the golden flesh tight over his incredible bone structure.
    â€˜Sexual attraction is a curious thing, is it not?’ Lazily he skimmed the smooth surface of her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Nell closed her eyes tight. The contact madeevery nerve in her body quiver. In every individual cell she was aware and deeply excited by the virile strength of the man who stood beside her.
    A sliver of savage satisfaction slid into Raul’s eyes as he felt her slender body tremble.
    She made a last-ditch attempt to break the spell he was weaving. ‘This macho stuff leaves me cold,’ she claimed shakily.
    He slid a burnished