His smile was thin. “Same old, same old.”
“Nothing on Annabeth?” Willow asked, her skin tingling with sadness for the girl and her family.
“Nothing. Except the usual psychics champing at the bit to get their two minutes of fame.”
“You didn’t talk to any of them?” Anna asked.
“Nah. Load of hooey.”
“I don’t know,” Willow contradicted with a shrug. “I read an article a while ago that said psychic involvement has, on occasion, been proven to lead to some new information.”
“I read the same story,” Isaac said with a nod. “But it’s because the psychics are either personally involved and want to gloat, or because they know someone who is involved. Not because they have some super intuition.”
“Sometimes there’s dumb luck too,” Matt pointed out with a teasing grin.
“You guys are a bunch of sceptics,” Willow said with a shrug of her shoulders.
“You saying you believe that stuff?”
She looked at Matt with a thoughtful frown. “No. Not necessarily. But I don’t not believe.”
“You’re a fence sitter,” Matt teased, turning to the oven and pulling out a tray. He placed it on the stove top, then pulled out yet another tray.
She was distracted from their conversation by the sheer quantity of delicious food spread out before her. “God, Matt. You’ve made enough for an army.”
He laughed. “Only way I know to cook.”
“I’m surprised you know how to cook at all,” Willow observed under her breath, when Anna and Ike moved to set the table.
He leaned down, his lips close to her ear. “Isn’t that judging a book by its cover yet again?”
Her whole body began to reverberate with waves of pleasure as his warm breath fanned down her neck. She startled a little, and when she locked eyes with him, the wave of desire almost threatened to overpower her.
His blue eyes were conflicted. She couldn’t understand him. There were nuances of emotion in his face that she simply didn’t fathom. Her lips parted on a breath, as her eyes raked his face.
“What is this?” She whispered, her fingertips aching to reach out and touch his chest.
His smile was tinged with wistful remorse. “Fried chicken and chilli sauce,” he said with a slow, suggestive grin, but his eyes didn’t leave hers.
If they’d been alone, she would have kissed him. She would have pressed her body to his, and let her hands run over his back. She wanted him, and she was pretty darned sure he felt the same way. But Anna and Isaac, their best friends, were just across the room.
She closed her eyes for strength then stepped away from him, on the pretence of pulling a platter out of the cupboard. “Well, it smells delicious,” she intoned brightly. She stood with the ceramic buffer, holding it diligently while he lifted chicken pieces from the trays and placed them onto the platter.
“It is,” he grinned, apparently happy to move past the intimate moment they’d shared. His eyes were gently mocking. As though he knew the effect he was having on her, and was amused by it.
Her smile felt strange on her face. She focussed on the platter, waiting impatiently for him to finish loading it up with food so that she could make her escape. Oh, why had she come over?
Her cheeks were pink when she walked into the dining area and placed dinner in the middle of the table. Anna and Isaac were in a serious conversation, their voices lowered, their eyes locked. For the first time in their friendship, Willow had a sense that she was intruding. “There’s just a few more things to get. Excuse me,” she murmured, slipping out of the room again. Anna didn’t even look in her direction. Isaac simply nodded, then turned back to his wife.
Whatever they were discussing seemed serious.
“Ready to taste some real southern fried food?” Matt greeted her in the kitchen, one hip propped indolently against the marble counter.
She shook her head. “Let’s give them a moment.”
He winged a brow in silent enquiry.
“They’re talking.” She shrugged. “Looked serious.”
“I see.” He picked up their wine glasses and walked towards her with panther like intensity. “Well, why don’t you come scope out my handiwork?”
She stared at him blankly.
“The deck.” He prompted, nudging her side slightly. The contact sent shivers tumbling through her body.
“Oh, right. Dinner’s okay in here?”
He nodded, his lips twisting with amusement. “It’ll keep.”
He handed her wine to her, and this time, Willow was careful to keep her fingers from touching his. He noticed, and his face showed that he found her attempt amusing.
“You’re laughing at me,” she observed with a droll tone to her voice.
He nodded with mock seriousness. “I sure am, ma’am.”
She pulled a face. “Why?”
He sighed. “Come outside.”
She fell into step behind him, propelled further forward by the sound of Anna and Isaac’s hushed tones. She wondered what they were talking about, but kept her curiosity in check.
“They must be grateful you’re doing this,” she murmured, when they emerged into the starlit night.
He shrugged. “I like it.”
“Do you?”
He nodded. “I like to be busy.” His eyes revealed an inner-torment she didn’t understand. “Discharge doesn’t keep me busy.”
“Maybe this could be your new career.” She couldn’t help it. She took a step closer, so that she was standing beside him, on the wide deck, with the sound of the churning ocean and a hooting owl as the soundtrack to their conversation. “You thinking of house painting and decorating as your next career step?”
His smile was thin; the promise he’d made earlier that day to his mother made his chest tighten. His duty was ahead of him; his future was waiting. But he couldn’t bring himself to admit as much to Willow. He didn’t allow himself to wonder why. “Maybe. Sure is satisfying.” He angled his head, fixing her with a clear, piercing stare.
She swallowed. And the minute she heard herself ask the question, she knew she was in trouble. For it carried a weight of expectations, and a hope that she hadn’t realised she held. “Do you think you’ll stay in Haymarket Bay long?” Her heart turned over and she softened the question with a slightly sarcastic addendum. “Must be lots of old beach shacks that could do with a spruce up...”
His eyes scanned her face. His expression was unreadable. “Do you think?”
Her breath caught in her throat. She was so transfixed, she didn’t notice his neat evasion of her question. Willow looked away, guiltily and nervously. The web of desire was spinning around them though, and Willow had a sense that she was falling through a crack in the space and time continuum. She nodded, but her mouth was rendered mute by an overwhelming sense of desire. She swallowed, her eyes dragging to his and clinging there.
He made a sound of frustrated impatience and lifted a hand to her cheek. “I had no idea I would meet someone like you, when I came here.”
Her lips flickered with a frown. “Someone like me?”
He nodded, padding his thumb across her cheek.
Her heart was hammering against her chest. Her whole body felt like it was sagging with the weight of expectation and hope. Her lips parted on a swell of feeling, as she leaned forward imperceptibly. He smelled like cinnamon, pine needles and soap. She inhaled his scent headily.
“Yeah, someone like you.”
Why did he sound angry? She frowned, but her sluggish brain was being deluged by little rivers of need and hunger. Nothing else was punctuating her consciousness beyond the fact that she desperately, achingly, wanted him to kiss her.
“And what am I like?”
His other hand was by his side. He lifted it now, to her hair. He ran it down the length of dark strands, his eyes mesmerised as he felt the soft silkiness. His voice was gravelly. “You are…” He closed his eyes. “Distracting.”
Her heart ached. “Distracting?”
He laughed, and lowered his face, so that his lips were just a breath from hers. “Damn right. Can’t think of anything else since I met you, it seems.”
Her stomach flipped like she’d just crested over a hill in a speed car. Hadn’t it been the same for her?
She straightened her posture, bringing her mouth so close to his they were almost touching. “Well?” She said boldly. “What are you going to do about it?”
“You guys out here?” Anna’s voice broke through the moment, and Willow quickly stepped backwards, clearing her throat and turning to face the ocean. She knew it was an incredibly obvious gesture, but for some reason, she shied away from the idea of her best friend knowing that she was completely taken by Matt.
“What happened? I thought we were eating? Seriously, Isaac’s going to polish off that whole plate if you don’t get in here.”
Willow composed her features before turning around. “Sure thing, Anna. We just came out to look at the deck.”
“Oh, yeah, it’s great, isn’t it?” She linked an arm through Matt’s in an easy, companionable manner. Jealousy, unmistakable and forceful, speared through Willow, as she moved to follow them back to the table. How could Anna be so comfortable with Mattias? As though he weren’t some kind of hunky God brought to life? Back in the dining room, Anna slid into her seat, beside Isaac, and Matt held a chair out for Willow. As she sunk into it, his hand curled around her shoulder. For the briefest of moments, but long enough to make her body tingle.