They took a break from movie watching to cook dinner together. Raif supervised as Shanal did most of the work. And he basked in her pleasure as the pasta dish came out better than she’d expected. They ate in front of the TV, watching the last movie in the trilogy, and as the credits began to roll on the screen, Raif caught her yawning.
“Why don’t you go on to bed? I’ll sort things out in here.”
“Are you sure? I don’t know why I’m so tired. We’ve hardly done anything today but watch TV. It must be the rain,” she said, getting up from the couch.
Raif missed her presence immediately. He’d grown all too comfortable with her small figure perched next to his on the couch.
“Don’t knock it. There’s nothing else for you to do right now but sleep, if that’s what you want to do,” he said, getting to his feet.
The words no sooner left his mouth than a picture of the two of them doing something else in a bed, something that had nothing to do with sleep, imprinted on his mind. His body responded immediately, sending curls of arousal to flick around his all-too-willing flesh. As if her thoughts had taken the same direction, Shanal paused and looked at him—her eyes wide, the pupils dilated. Her hair, worn loose today, was slightly curly and disheveled, making her look younger and more approachable than the tightly buttoned-down and sleek appearance she normally favored.
He decided he liked this side of Shanal Peat just a little too much. It would take very little effort on his part to lean forward and brush his lips against hers. Just a small kiss good-night, that’s all it would be.
Liar, a voice sneered in the back of his mind.
“Go on,” he said, his voice a little rough. “You head off. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She bade him good-night and went to her room, leaving him standing there like a starstruck idiot watching his first crush walk away. Then again, she was his first crush. There was no doubt about it. But to still feel this way? It was ridiculous. They were both adults now—adults with nothing in common. Except for a love of gory sci-fi flicks and possibly much more.
He shook his head and focused on straightening up the cabin before going to bed himself. There’d be none of that “much more,” not after the way she’d reacted after their kiss this afternoon. No matter how much he wanted it. No matter how much he ached for it. But even so, Raif went to bed that night with his door open—just in case she had a nightmare again, he assured himself.
* * *
Shanal woke the next morning to the sound of the boat motor running. She rubbed her face and stared at the bedside clock, shocked to realize it was nearly 9:00 a.m. She’d slept almost twelve hours, which was unheard of for her. She shot into her bathroom for a brief shower then quickly dressed and joined Raif.
“Sorry I slept in,” she said, as he turned to greet her with one of those killer smiles he specialized in.
“No problem. You must have needed it.”
She helped herself to some cereal and a cup of coffee and perched on the seat next to him as he steered the boat upriver. As with everything he did, his hands were strong and competent at the wheel. In fact, she’d never seen Raif Masters at a physical disadvantage with anything. Whether it was operating a post-hole borer to erect uprights for new vine trellises or training the canes along the wires, he approached everything with a surety she sometimes envied. In her line of work, developing new strains of vines, outcomes were not always guaranteed and she often found herself hooked up on data and forgetting that what she was actually doing was creating or improving a living thing. Raif’s work was hands-on, all the way. Her gaze lingered on his long broad fingers. Those very same fingers that had caressed her back yesterday as they’d kissed.
A shudder ran through her.
“You cold?” Raif asked.
“No, I’m okay,” she said, getting up from her seat and taking her bowl to the kitchen.
But she wasn’t okay. She felt disturbed. That kiss yesterday had been all too revealing to her. With it, she’d answered unspoken questions that had plagued her for years. As much as she’d tried to pigeonhole Raif as that cheeky schoolboy she’d met half his lifetime ago, she could no longer do that now. He was very much a man. A man she desired. There. She’d admitted it.
She turned the thought around in her mind, over and over, until she felt almost dizzy with it. During all these years of exchanging verbal barbs with Raif, it had become habit, one designed to create a wall between them. But instead it had created an intangible link. A link that yesterday had become more tangible than not.