‘Really?’ Lindsey’s voice went high in disbelief.
‘Really.’
‘From the Italian poet of the Middle Ages?’
‘At least you have the origin right,’ he said. ‘My sisters used to tell everyone I’d been named after a middle-aged poet.’
‘Oh, poor you. Were you teased a lot?’
‘Sometimes I felt like quietly enrolling at another school.’
‘I think Dante suits you.’
‘Hmm.’ Dan was noncommittal.
‘Is your mother a romantic, then?’
‘No.’ He sounded amused. ‘It’s an old family name. Apparently, it was just my turn to be lumbered with it.’
‘That’s pathetic,’ Lindsey said mildly. ‘It makes you different...special.’
He didn’t reply.
‘How does that feel now?’
Lindsey heard the guarded tone in his voice. Had her remark embarrassed him? Probably. And she wouldn’t have continued with the banter if she hadn’t been feeling so relaxed with him. Her mistake. ‘It’s much better, thanks. I’ll be OK now.’ She swivelled round to face the front again.
‘If you’re sure?’ Dan recapped the bottle of oil and handed it back to her.
‘I’m fine.’ She stowed the bottle back in her beauty case then reached for her cardigan and shrugged it on.
Well, he’d stuffed that up. Dan locked his hands around the steering wheel and looked blindly out into the night. He’d stomped all over her light remarks and shut down. Now she’d be back to thinking he was some kind of unsociable cretin. God, he felt like an infant trying to stand upright and walk.
His jaw tightened. He had to fix things. ‘I’ve...made things awkward again, haven’t I?’
Her throat constricted. ‘I wasn’t coming on to you.’
‘I know that. You were being sweet and funny...’ He paused painfully.
‘I’ve—been out of circulation for a while.’
Lindsey glanced at him, taking in his body language. Obviously, he’d been through something that had knocked him sideways. Something it was taking him time to get past. She felt a river of empathy run out to him. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ As soon as she’d said the trite words Lindsey wished them back. Whatever it was that was bugging him, he’d probably talked about it until he was blue in the face. ‘Sorry, scratch that.’
He blew out a controlled sigh. ‘It’s just stuff that’s a bit hard to...revisit.’
‘I get that, Dan,’ she said softly.
His head swung towards her. Even in the subdued lighting in the car, the force of his undivided attention was like a mini-riot inside her. They breathed through several beats of silence. Until... Dan bent, his lips grazing hers. It was the lightest of kisses but heady with the taste of promise. For a long moment they stared at each other. ‘That was a bit...’ Lindsey’s voice faded.
‘Unexpected?’ Dan moved closer, so close she had to tilt her head up to look at him. So close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. ‘Nice, though?’
His softly spoken question danced across her nerves, creating a new wave of warmth to cascade through her. She nodded, words simply escaping her.
Dan stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, his body drenched in emotions he’d almost forgotten.
A gossamer-thin thread of awareness seemed to shimmer between them, until they drew back slowly from each other, breaking the spell.
Lindsey began pulling her cardigan more tightly around her. ‘Um, do you think we could find a hot drink somewhere?’
‘Oh, God—sorry!’ Dan hit the heel of his hand on his forehead. ‘You’re probably still shocky. I’m an idiot—’
‘Dan, it’s OK.’ Lindsey bit back a half-laugh. ‘I didn’t expect you to have a Thermos of tea with you. There’s a service station a few clicks further on. We could stop there.’
‘Right. Good. We’ll do that. But we’ll need to do something about your car first. From what I saw, it’s not drivable.’
‘Oh—are you sure?’ Lindsey looked pained.
‘I’m no mechanic but looks like you had a pretty big whack. The back wheel seems out of alignment and I had trouble getting the boot open. I could have a word with the tow-truck guys for you?’
‘No, it’s fine.’ She waved the idea away. ‘I’ll get on to my insurance company.’ She flicked out her mobile and found the number on speed dial. ‘All sorted,’ she said after a few minutes of intense negotiation. ‘They’ll arrange for my car to be towed for repairs and if I need it I can pick up a replacement vehicle from the garage in Milldale.’
‘I’ll drive you home, then,’ Dan said.
‘I don’t want to take you out of your way.’
‘You won’t be. I’m going to Milldale myself. I’ll get your personal stuff from the car, shall I?’
‘I’ll help.’ Lindsey volunteered, making to get out of his vehicle.
‘Hang on a tick.’ He stayed her with the lightest touch on her wrist. ‘I’ll come round and give you a hand. Don’t want you falling.’
‘Dan, I’m fine,’ she remonstrated.
‘Humour me, all right?’
Lindsey gave a contained little sigh but waited until he’d come round to the passenger door. He opened it and offered a steadying hand. She took it gratefully. He’d been right. She did feel a kind of light-headedness.
‘When did you last eat?’ Dan asked, keeping his hand firmly on hers.
‘Sandwich at lunch.’
‘Then the sooner we get some hot food into you the better.’ He reopened the boot and retrieved her suitcase and a canvas backpack.
‘And would you mind getting that large plastic bin as well?’ Lindsey asked. ‘It has a lid so you won’t spill anything.’
Dan hefted the bin out by its handle, almost staggering at its solid weight. ‘What the blazes do you have in here—body parts?’
Her mouth crimped at the corners. ‘Clay.’
‘I...see.’ Although clearly he didn’t.
‘It’s potter’s clay,’ Lindsey explained, following him back to the Land Rover. ‘I have a wheel and kiln at home. I aim to make some pieces while I’m on my holiday.’
Dan tried to get a grip on his wayward thoughts, imagining Lindsey the potter with her dark hair wild and flowing, perhaps her feet bare, her body lithe and swaying as she threw her pots. A compelling new awareness, sharp and insistent, stirred within him. An awareness that hadn’t been stirred in a long time. An awareness that he’d stomped all over on that first day when Lindsey Stewart had smiled at him.
‘Do you think you should let your folks know what’s happened so they won’t be worrying?’ Dan asked as they settled back into the car. ‘I imagine it’ll be a bit late by the time we get you home.’
That sounded so thoughtful. Lindsey turned her head, slowly taking in his profile. It was almost sculpted. He’d make a perfect model. Her fingers began to tingle and she imagined carving out his features from a block of clay, pleating, smoothing, working