What was she supposed to say or do in such a situation besides just stand there, rather awkwardly, red-faced and with a stupid grin on her face? Right, she was supposed to make congenial conversation. Make herself presentable and approachable except--She was Daphne Hopton.

Things were hardly that simple. Especially when Plymouth Morgan's lips were connecting with her cheek.

Paralyzed, she simply gushed slightly as the heat went over her head. "I'm not sure it'll ever return," replied Daphne in a joking manner.

Defeat. She'd admit defeat as soon as her stomach stopped somersaulting.