“Everything okay?” Cat hurried across the room. “I was getting wor—” She stopped, her mouth popping into an O. “Oh. No groceries?”
Amara ducked her head, avoiding Cat’s knowing gaze. Was it so obvious what she and Matthew had been doing? Matthew cleared his throat behind her, his hand straying to the small of her back, touching her as if to reassure her.
“Nope,” he said, his voice too bright. “Store was too crowded, so we decided to try later. Sundays aren’t the best days to shop, you know.”
Something suspiciously close to a snort came from Cat. “Yes, I know exactly what you mean. Well, glad you’re here now. Matt, can you stay a minute? Ben had something he needed to talk over with you. And Amara, maybe you want to come up and, uh, help me load the dishwasher?” She walked toward the stairs.
Subterfuge was clearly not Cat’s forte if her attempt to be discreet was to invite one to do dishes. Amara, however, dutifully followed, not wanting to arouse further suspicion. As she hit the first step, she couldn’t help but glance at Matthew. His face was serious as he watched her. Until he noticed her looking at him, that is, at which point he winked and cracked a wide grin.
Oh, goodness. What have I got myself into? Memories of the last hour, the earlier part of the day, streamed through her brain, and half of her wanted nothing else but to go back down, grab him, and head to bed. The other half, the more rational half, gave her a stern talking to. Amara Mattersley, you yourself said it: There is no relationship here. He does not want one. You do not want one. It is a physical connection, nothing more.
So why did a tiny part of her heart ache?
Cat barely made it through the apartment door before she spun around, her eyes dancing. “Okay, spill. Something obviously happened between the two of you.”
Spill? What did she mean? Share intimate details? Did people do that? Even if they did, Amara didn’t wish to. Intimacies were a private affair. “I don’t know what you mean. I wasn’t feeling well after last night’s overindulgences, so Matthew kindly let me sleep in his apartment. Then we ... took care of tasks and such.”
Cat tucked a piece of hair behind her ears. “Okay, you don’t have to share. But you can’t tell me there isn’t some sort of connection. It shows all over your faces.”
“Even if there were,” Amara said, following Cat into the kitchen, “I don’t want there to be.”
“Ah, but sometimes what we want and what we need are two different things. If I’ve learned anything in this life, it’s that.”
Ben walked into the kitchen and settled Wash in a chair at the table. “Matt’s finally here, huh? I’ll be back up shortly.” He dropped a brief kiss on Cat’s lips. “I hope you had a nice time,” he said to Amara, no hint of anything other than sincerity in his tone.
Cat snorted again after he left. “You don’t really have to do dishes, of course,” she said, opening the refrigerator. “I was hoping you’d feel comfortable confiding in me. But if you don’t want to, I understand.”
She pulled out an apple and sliced it into pieces, sliding the pieces from the cutting board onto a plate that she set in front of Wash. He grinned, his chubby hands grabbing a slice.
Amara sat down in a chair near the little boy, her shoulders slumping in a way she’d never have got away with at Clarehaven. “I am unaccustomed to having friendships beyond family,” she said at length. “And in my era, one does not discuss such things.”
That wasn’t entirely true. She and her sisters had had conversations, and other young women had on occasion pestered Amara for details of the intimate act, details she’d declined to give. Plus, she hadn’t really known the truth of it, the grandeur of it, until today. With Matthew.
“Got it. I won’t say another word unless you want to talk—with the exception of the fact you’d make the cutest couple.” Cat put a bowl of something in the microwave as she spoke, pushing buttons to heat it up.
Wash held his hand out to Amara. “Wan’ apple, Cousin ‘Mara?” His cheeks crinkled with his big grin. She had to admit, he was winsome.
“No, thank you.”
His smile disappeared, though he didn’t look angry, just confused. Turning his head toward his mother, he picked up the remaining apple pieces and dropped them on the floor with a wicked giggle. “Washington Jefferson Cooper!” Cat’s voice was firm but laced with love.
Amara, on the other hand, made a face. And that’s why I don’t want a child.
“Want to watch Pride and Prejudice after I get Wash to bed?” Cat said, stooping to pick up the apples. “You can tell me everything they get wrong.”
“Pride and Prejudice? Oh, yes, Eliza’s favorite book. Miss Austen is most delightful. We called on her several times before I ... left.”
Cat clapped her hands in excitement. “I’m so thrilled she got to meet her idol. I can hardly believe it. Pretty sure Jane Austen would agree Colin Firth is eye candy in any era. So, what do you say?”
“Yes. That sounds like a pleasurable way to spend the evening.” Not as pleasurable as how she spent her day. She didn’t know who this Colin Firth was, but she doubted he could be anywhere as attractive as Matthew Goodson lying naked on the bed, his ice-blue eyes ablaze with desire.
“I wish to take a shower if that is agreeable,” she said, rising from her chair. A very cold one, perhaps. For her body was still on fire, burning for the man one floor beneath her.
Matt did his best to concentrate on Ben’s words, but his mind kept drifting to the woman upstairs. What was she doing? What was she thinking?
They’d made love twice in one day. Was she truly okay with that? Had he taken advantage of her? The idea didn’t sit well with him. He was all for a good time, but only if both people were on the same page. She said she was—said she wanted it as much as you.
“You seem tired.” Ben’s words interrupted Matt’s thoughts. “Should we talk about this some other time?”
“I’m sorry.”
“No big deal.” Ben stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you for taking such good care of Amara.”
Matt’s eyes whipped to Ben’s. Was that a look? Did Ben suspect? The older man’s face revealed nothing, though a corner of his mouth twitched.
Matt didn’t trust himself to say anything more. Any longer here, and he might fess up to everything. He had to go. With a nod at Ben, he rose and stretched his back. While he was in good shape, there were muscles twingeing right now he hadn’t even known he had. Walking to the door, he fought the urge the entire way to look back, to look for her.
Ridiculous. It was a fling.
Nothing more.