I wonder what she’s like in bed.
The thought was like an intruder inside his head. He tried to evict it but it wouldn’t leave. It made it even worse when the last window he had to check was in her bedroom. The intoxicating fragrance of her permeated everything. Even the lightweight curtains smelt of her as he pulled them aside to work the latch.
‘How’s it going?’ she asked from just behind him.
Matt hadn’t heard her approach and nicked his finger on the blade of the chisel. ‘Er … fine,’ he said. ‘I’m just about done.’
Kellie frowned when he turned around and began to wind his finger around his handkerchief. ‘Have you cut yourself?’ she asked.
‘It’s just a scratch.’
‘Let me see.’
‘It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘I told you, it’s just a little scratch. It will stop bleeding in a second.’
Kellie gave him a reproving look as she reached for his hand. ‘You don’t need to go all macho on me, Matt,’ she said. ‘If I can handle what Julie Smithton did to her finger, I think I’ll cope with what you’ve done with yours.’
She unpeeled the handkerchief and inspected the flesh wound. ‘Mmm,’ she said. ‘It looks like it needs some pressure for a bit longer. I’ll cleanse it for you and put on a sticky plaster.’
‘There’s really no need …’
Her eyes met his. ‘Why are you being so stubborn about such a little thing?’ she asked. ‘When was the last time you allowed someone to help you for a change?’
He held her gaze for a moment or two. ‘All right,’ he said, blowing out of sigh of resignation. ‘Do what you need to do. I won’t put up a struggle.’
Kellie led him by the hand to the bathroom and making him sit on a small stool, attended to his finger with meticulous care. She was acutely aware of his long legs, she had to step around them a couple of times to reach the first-aid cupboard. She was also intensely aware of his hand in hers as she cleansed and dressed the wound. She imagined how it would feel to have those strong, long-fingered hands on her body, touching her face, tilting her head to claim her mouth with his own …
Matt met her brown gaze on a level. She was wearing mascara, which made her long eyelashes even more lustrous. His eyes went to her mouth. This close he could see the tiny sparkles in her lipgloss, making her lips all the more tempting to taste. He watched as the point of her tongue sneaked out to paste a film of moisture on top of the gloss and his insides gave a sudden kick of reaction. It would be so easy to lean forward and—
‘There,’ she said briskly, scrunching up the wrapping of the sticky plaster. ‘I’m all done.’
Matt got to his feet. ‘Thank you, but it was totally unnecessary to go to all that fuss over nothing.’
‘It wasn’t nothing and, besides, I didn’t want you to bleed all over the place. Imagine if Tim and Claire come back to find bloodstains all over their bedroom carpet?’
‘Good point.’
She turned from the basin, where she had been washing her hands. ‘Ready for dinner now?’
‘Sure.’
Kellie led the way to the kitchen where she had an Italian chicken dish simmering. She poured two glasses of wine and handed him one. ‘Thanks for fixing the windows. I really appreciate it. I’m hopeless at household maintenance. I guess it comes from living with six men. They did that sort of stuff while Mum and I got on with the cooking and housework.’
He took the glass with a brief brush of his fingers against hers. ‘Did you resent having to do that?’
She cradled her glass in her hands. ‘Not at first. I took over the cooking when Mum got sick. It was hard once she’d gone to stop doing it. Dad and the boys were devastated. The last thing they needed was a huge shopping list and a week’s menu thrust in their hands.’
Matt thought about how caring she was, how she had put her needs aside for the sake of her father and younger brothers. ‘All the same, it must have been hard, not having a life of your own,’ he said. ‘What about boyfriends and so on? How did you juggle your professional and social life with your family taking up so much of your time?’
Her smooth brow furrowed slightly. ‘It wasn’t easy. I’m nearly thirty years old and I’ve only had one lover. I guess you think that’s pretty pathetic, huh?’
He felt his mouth tip upwards in a rueful smile. ‘I’m hardly one to criticise. I haven’t exactly been out there sowing my wild oats.’
She smiled back at him but he noticed her cheeks were a little pink. ‘I guess I should check on dinner …’
Matt watched as she deftly sorted out plates and garnishes and steamed vegetables as if it was second nature to her. He couldn’t help wondering what she would think of his micro-waved single-serve meals or his two-recipe repertoire of macaroni cheese or savory mince on toast. ‘You obviously enjoy cooking,’ he said into the silence.
‘I love it,’ she said handing him a plate loaded with food.
‘Was your mother a good cook?’ he asked once they were both seated at the small pine table.
‘She was fabulous,’ she said, passing him the pepper grinder. ‘I stood on a step-stool by her side for as long as I can remember. I think she would have loved to have been a chef but she didn’t get the opportunity. She got pregnant with me while she was at college so that put an end to that.’
‘Was she bitter about it?’
She met his gaze across the table. ‘No, of course not. She loved being a mother.’
He looked into the contents of his glass. ‘My mother was the opposite. She also fell pregnant by mistake but it was made very clear to my father and me that it had ruined her life.’
Kellie felt her heart contract. ‘Did she tell you that?’
He forked up some of the casserole. ‘I seem to remember it was a recurrent theme before she finally left.’
‘You must have been so hurt.’
He gave an indifferent shrug. ‘I don’t dwell on it much. It happened and I can’t change it. My father, on the other hand, lets it eat away at him even now. He hasn’t moved on. He talks about nothing else whenever I call him, which isn’t often. He can’t seem to accept that she’s not coming back.’
‘And you don’t think you’re a little bit like him in that regard?’
He frowned as he met the challenge of her gaze. ‘What are you saying?’
She put down her fork and picked up her wineglass. ‘If you can’t see it, I’m not going to hit you over the head with it.’
His frown deepened. ‘I suppose by that you mean Madeleine.’
‘You’re still carrying a photo of her in your wallet,’ Kellie said. ‘You
