Move Over Darling by Christine Stovell Page A

lucky?’
    The mischievous look in his eyes sent a jolt through her that was so shocking she missed a step and was forced to think about what her feet were doing until she’d recovered herself. He’d been standing beside her when she’d bought her raffle tickets; but surely he couldn’t fix the result?
    ‘Right hand turn!’ the caller shouted, compelling her to focus on what her body was doing rather than his beside her, moving in beautiful synchronicity.
    ‘Left hand turn!’
    Kitty was smiling up at Adam, looking genuinely relaxed for once.
    ‘Both hands turn!’
    Alys and Huw were dancing self-consciously, like two people who’d forgotten the steps they’d once known so well.
    ‘And do-si-dos!’
    Poor Rhys was trapped.
    ‘And swing!’
    Coralie’s head was spinning even before the rest of her joined in. Gethin Lewis had listened to her. Maybe the little unsigned picture wasn’t exactly what she had in mind to engage the village in its famous son’s success, but she’d asked him to give something back to Penmorfa and he had. And now he was hinting it could be hers if she wanted it. What did that mean? A little voice was whispering that such a small, apparently insignificant, picture would make a wonderful souvenir of Penmorfa if she was ever forced to leave, but she made herself ignore it. A sketch of the farmhouse, a significant landmark in the village, and, however humble, a Gethin Lewis original, deserved to stay where it could, she hoped, be admired and appreciated.
    It occurred to her that whilst the picture might be staying, the artist was about to leave, which was probably just as well given how her feelings had changed in a few weeks. From actively resenting having someone next door, she couldn’t help but check her appearance in the hall mirror if she heard movement in the adjoining property, just in case he happened to be leaving at the same time. She’d grown accustomed to her own thoughts and company, but now she came home disappointed on the days when her path hadn’t crossed with Gethin’s or if they hadn’t swapped a few neighbourly words.
    Coralie was afraid of losing her grip, and not just because of the rising temperature. She hoped Gethin was holding on tight because staying cool in the heat of that smouldering glance was quite a challenge. Her hands felt as if they’d been greased as she clung on to him. The tempo of the music gathered pace, becoming more frenzied and creating a contagious sense of wild exhilaration. Reverberating in the background, like the high note of a plucked string, was the matter of the raffle draw, as she wondered whether to be flattered or worried by what Gethin might do. She was beginning to see just how seductive that kind of attention could be. Gethin, it struck her, as he shot her another burning glance, was quite like his art, really: decorative, sexy and probably found in lots of bedrooms.
    ‘Now make your final promenade and prepare to take a new partner,’ the caller instructed. ‘Gentlemen you may kiss your girl farewell!’
    Out of breath and laughing, Coralie forgot herself and leaned into Gethin, resting her hand on his chest as she lifted her face to his dark gaze. Something about them getting sweaty and breathless together fooled her brain into thinking that something far more intimate had taken place. Just as she was about to stand on tiptoes and stretch up to him, she became aware of people watching and quickly pulled away so that his lips missed her mouth and brushed her cheek instead. He raised an eyebrow to show that he knew she’d just chickened out, making her grateful for the heat in the room that hid her embarrassment.
    But, along the line, another couple did seem to have forgotten that they were in a public place. The man who was supposed to be her new partner had taken the caller’s final instruction to extremes. From the way Adam’s mouth was locked against Kitty’s he seemed to be anticipating not a temporary split but a