Her Favorite Temptation Page 11

  But most important, she wanted her sister to know that despite the constant messages she’d been sent all her life, she was clever, talented, wonderful. There was nothing second-rate about her.

  Except, maybe, her family.

  Belatedly Leah realized that her jiggling leg was making the table vibrate and that Audrey was watching her warily, a slight frown on her face.

  “Leah. Whatever you’ve got to say, spit it out. The waiting is killing me.”

  Leah stilled. Took a deep breath. Her hand crept into her pocket, closing around the bag of jelly beans. Ridiculous that they’d become a talisman for her, but they had.

  “Okay. How about this? I’m really sorry for being such a shitty sister.”

  * * *

  WILL SAT AT his laptop, staring at the four words he’d typed so far.

  Dear Mum and Dad.

  Not the greatest word count, considering he’d been at this for over an hour now. He scrubbed his face with his hands, then went to the kitchen for some water. He’d had cottonmouth most of the day, a result of all the flight-or-fight adrenaline rushing through his system, thanks to the fact that at eight o’clock tomorrow morning, he would be unconscious on Alistair Chang’s operating table, having a piece of skull removed so that they could play jigsaw puzzles with his brain.

  He’d been waiting for the day since his diagnosis, but he still couldn’t quite believe it had finally arrived. He’d become used to waiting. To living in a no-man’s-land between hope and despair.

  He’d settled into a routine of a handful of things guaranteed to soothe and distract him. He’d become expert at not thinking too far ahead. And now he was here. A few more hours, and the waiting would be over. Suddenly all the doubts and fears he’d been sitting on were front and center in his mind, refusing to be ignored.

  He would either survive the operation, or not. If he did, he would either suffer lasting motor and mental damage, or he wouldn’t.

  There was no way to predict any of the above, no way for him to improve his potential outcome. No tablets he could take or exercises he could do or food he could eat. He was about as helpless as it was possible for a person to get. Literally, his life, everything that made him him, was in his surgeon’s hands.

  A bottle of champagne sat on the kitchen counter, a well-intentioned gift from Eric, his manager. Mark and Narelle had sent a box of sweet-and-sour gummy worms. Other friends and family had sent cards or called. His mother and sisters had wanted to spend tonight with him, to sit vigil with him or do whatever he needed to do.

  But he’d wanted to be alone. At least, he’d thought he did. Now he wasn’t so sure. These could be his last hours as a whole person, after all. The last time he could speak articulately. The last time he could hold someone. The last time he could walk. There were so many things he could lose tomorrow. So many parts of himself.

  He picked up the phone, then put it down again. It would take a couple of hours for his parents or Mark to get here from Barwon Heads. Besides, he wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted them there. Wasn’t entirely sure where to put himself.

  Liar.

  Okay, he knew what he wanted. He wanted Leah. If this was to be his last night on earth, his last night in possession of all the faculties and abilities and memories that he’d enjoyed in his life up to this point, he wanted to spend it with Leah. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to be naked with her, to make love until the only thing he could think about was her pleasure, her body.

  He didn’t want to go under tomorrow not knowing what she tasted like. What her skin felt like against his.

  He’d been battling the urge to knock on her door all night, which was probably why he had only the first line of the letter he wanted to write to his parents. Just in case.

  He glanced at the clock. It was nearly nine. He had eleven hours. How was he going to use them?

  He strode for the door. He’d tell Leah. Confess all. Lay it all out for her, leave it up to her whether she wanted to complete this thing between them.

  He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, bowing his head as he imagined that scenario: Leah’s shock and confusion, the questions she’d ask. Her concern. Her pity and sympathy.

  He let his hand fall. He didn’t want it to be like that between them. He wanted it to be about them, and them alone. About the way her face lit up when he made her laugh. About how good she smelled. About the way she looked at him, the banked hunger in her wide golden eyes.

  He swore under his breath. Back to the laptop, then.

  He was turning away as a knock sounded.

  He considered the possibilities. His parents. One or both of his sisters. Maybe Mark, but probably not.

  He opened the door. Leah stood there, a lopsided smile on her face.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey.” He clenched his hands at his sides, resisting the impulse to pull her closer. “What’s up?”

  “You want the long story or the short story? Because the long story consists of this whole shtick I prepared about needing pizza and you being the guy with all the good pizza connections, because I figured that way I wouldn’t look too needy or pathetic or desperate for coming over here.”

  “What’s the short story?”

  “I really need to see you. We don’t need to talk or anything. God knows, you’ve listened to enough of my angsting over the past few weeks. But maybe we could sit on the couch and have a drink or whatever. Just for a few minutes...?”

  She was doing her damnedest not to cry, but her chin kept wobbling, giving the game away. He quit worrying about what was right or wrong and did what he had to do, stepping forward to pull her into his arms.

  “Don’t be a dick, Mathews,” he said gently.

  She made a small sound that was half laugh, half sob and tucked her face into his chest. For a long beat they simply stood there, breathing together. He closed his eyes and inhaled the smell of her perfume and shampoo and wished that he had met her years ago.

  After a minute or so he stirred. “You had dinner with your sister tonight, right?” He’d wanted to text her a good-luck message, but caution had held him back. He had no business insinuating himself into her life, not at the moment.

  She nodded, not lifting her head from his shoulder. “What are you, psychic or something?”

  “I get these feelings sometimes.”

  He couldn’t see her face, but he knew she was smiling.

  “Was it a disaster?”

  “No. It was...good, I think. But it was hard.”

  He eased away from her, looking into her face. Everything she felt was right there in her eyes. Hurt and hope and worry.

  “It’ll be okay,” he said.

  Then, because he couldn’t stop himself, he dropped a quick kiss onto her mouth...and lingered a fraction of a second too long as he savored the soft, sweet pressure.

  She blinked at him when he lifted his head. He caught her hand.

  “Come on.”

  He led her inside, making promises to himself all the way. They would talk. He would make sure she was okay. Then he would let her go. This would be enough. Simply being with her, talking with her. He would make it enough.

  “What do you want? Coffee, tea? I’m all out of wine,” he said.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve got anything to eat? Audrey and I didn’t actually get around to having dinner.”

  “I’ve got toast, cereal or ice cream. What tickles your fancy?”

  “Cereal sounds good.”

  He made two bowls, because he hadn’t eaten, either, and suddenly he was hungry. Leah had toed off her shoes and sat cross-legged on the couch when he returned, her hair swept to one side, over her shoulder.

  “Thank you. This looks awesome.”

  “Just don’t ask for the secret
recipe. I promised my gran I’d take it to my grave.”

  “Right. One of those sacred family-secret things.”

  “Exactly. The kind legends are made of.”

  They were both silent for a few minutes as they ate.

  “This is actually really good,” Leah said.

  “I told you.”

  She laughed, then gave him an unreadable look.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Thanks for this.”

  “A bowl of cereal?”

  “Yes, that’s right, Will. For the bowl of cereal,” she said, her tone very dry.

  He grinned. “My pleasure.”

  She gave an exasperated shake of her head, but she smiled as she scooped her next mouthful.

  “Tell me what happened with your sister. You’ve left me hanging here.”

  “Right. Clinging to the edge of your seat, desperate to know the next Chapter in the saga that is the life and times of Leah Mathews.”

  He set down his empty bowl. “What did she say?”

  “To be honest, I did most of the talking. First up, I apologized for being such a shitty sister. I told her that I was ashamed of myself for sitting back all these years, letting our parents play the favorites game. I told her I was ashamed of them, too, and that she was awesome and amazing and how much I admired her for always standing tall.”

  “How did she take all of that?”

  Leah sighed heavily. “She kept telling me we didn’t need to do this, that it was okay, that she didn’t blame me for anything. She said—” She closed her eyes for a second, clearly trying to get a grip on herself. “She said that she’d accepted long ago that she was never going to measure up.” Her voice broke and she knuckled away a tear. “I can’t tell you how much that killed me, Will, hearing her say that.”

  “You need tissues? I have tissues,” he said, starting to get up.

  “I think I’m okay.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I think so.”

  He sank onto the couch. “So how come you wound up not having dinner?”

  She drew one knee up so she could rest her chin on it. “She was upset. She pretended she wasn’t, but she was shaking. Trembling. Like people get sometimes when they come into the E.R. after a car accident. She went to the bathroom, then she came back and said she needed to go. She said she tried not to think about this stuff too much, and she needed time to process.”

  Tears welled up in Leah’s eyes. He took her hand, and she squeezed it tightly.

  “Remind me to thank your sisters someday. You’re really good at this stuff.” She sniffed, using her free hand to wipe away her tears.

  “As if I would voluntarily gift them with that kind of encouragement.”

  She laughed. He gave her hand one final squeeze and then released it, curling his fingers around the memory of her skin against his.

  “How did you leave things?”

  “We’re going to try again another time.”

  “Good.”

  “You think so? I’m not sure how I feel about it all. But then I don’t know how else things could have gone, now I think about it. It wasn’t as though we were destined to skip off into the sunset holding hands or anything. It was always going to be messy. Especially at first.” She sighed again. “God. I’m such a head case at the moment.”

  “No, you’re not.” He should know. He was the head case. He even had the pharmaceutical collection to prove it.

  “I don’t know. It’s been pretty busy in here lately.” She tapped her index finger against her forehead. “Lots of wheels spinning, night and day. My parents aren’t talking to me. I just sent my sister running screaming from a restaurant. And every time I see you I wind up spilling my guts.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I happen to like your guts.”

  She eyed him steadily. “Can I be serious for a moment? Will you let me do that?”

  “Okay.”

  “You have been...wonderful. I honestly don’t know how I would have coped in the past few weeks without you. You have been so generous with your time, and you’ve listened to me and you’ve rescued me and you’ve been kind.... I want to thank you for being a really good friend to me, Will Jones.”

  He wanted to shrug off her words, but her steady gaze wouldn’t let him. Heat climbed into his face, a combination of self-consciousness and deeply felt pleasure at her praise. He’d had people say nice things to him before—especially since the money and fame had arrived—but he’d never been told he was kind. Frankly, kindness had never been very high on his list of desirable character traits. He was a man, after all. The ability to understand the workings of the internal combustion engine or to kick a goal on the footy field had always seemed more important than kindness.

  But Leah was very easy to be kind to. She was so earnest, so open. It was one of the things he loved about her—when she looked at a person, she really looked, and she let them look back at her and didn’t try to hide what she was thinking or feeling. She was her own harshest critic, and she had compassion to spare.

  She’d dedicated her life to helping others, and he knew without ever having seen her in action that she was an excellent doctor. She was one of life’s good people, and having her approval, having her look at him with such unalloyed gratitude and appreciation, moved something inside him.

  “It’s been an honor, Leah Mathews,” he said, his voice thick with sudden emotion.

  He wanted to tell her that she’d helped save him, too. He wanted to tell her that she’d made him feel normal, that she’d entertained him and aroused him and confused him. She’d been the one thing in his life that had been more compelling, more magnetic, more fascinating than his diagnosis and the prospect of imminent death or disability.

  But sharing any of that with her would entail a conversation that he simply didn’t want to have. Not tonight. Not when the clock was ticking.

  “Don’t freak out, but I’m going to hug you now. I swear on a stack of bibles that I’m not making a move on you.” She leaned across the space that separated them, hooking an arm around his neck. She lay her cheek against his, pressed it close. “Thank you.”

  He couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around her, pulling her closer still. She felt fine and strong in his arms, her weight against his chest and side infinitely welcome. He felt the unexpected sting of tears and he blinked rapidly.

  “I’m really glad I was out on the balcony that night you were practicing your Shakespeare,” he said.

  She laughed, and he felt it ripple through her body into his. As always when she was this close, need began to heat his blood. He wanted to touch her, to taste her, more than he wanted air.

  If only tomorrow wasn’t so close.

  If only he had a guarantee that there would be a tomorrow after that.

  “You must have thought I was mad.”

  “I thought you were gorgeous.”

  She tensed, and he knew it was time to let her go. He’d established the ground rules of this relationship, after all. He eased his embrace, and she retreated to her side of the couch.

  Her cheeks were pink, and she fussed with her hair, clearly trying to regain her composure. Her gaze bounced around the room, finally coming to rest on the laptop.

  “Oh. I hope I’m not stopping you from working.”

  “You’re not. I was just catching up on a few things. Letters.” He shrugged.

  “I heard you playing the guitar during the week. I’ll miss it when you move out. It makes this place feel less like a collection of concrete shoeboxes and more like somewhere people actually live.”

  “Yeah? I’ve been waiting for the complaints to roll in. Figured I’d have half a dozen anonymous notes under the door by now.”

  “Ar
e you kidding? Maybe if you were crap. But you sound so good.” She rolled her eyes. “Sorry. I had a fangirl moment for a second there.”

  “Believe it or not, hearing that people like my stuff never gets old. Especially when it’s someone whose opinion I care about.”

  She made a dismissive gesture with her hand.

  “You want some ice cream?” he asked.

  “I do. But I won’t have any. I’ll let you finish your letter.”

  She stood, smoothing her shirt. He looked at her, trying to find the right words to convince her to stay. Everything that came into his head was too desperate, too needy, and he pushed to his feet.

  “I’m glad things worked out with your sister. I’ve been wondering how you were going with all of that,” he said.

  “I’m not sure it’s worked out yet. But there’s a lot of potential there. And I think we’re both willing.”

  He started to lead her to the door, then stopped.

  “I should probably let you know that I won’t be around much longer.”

  “You’re moving out?” She didn’t even try to hide her disappointment and dismay.

  “Yeah. Time to head back home.” Or not.

  “So, when are you going? Maybe we could have dinner one night? You know, eat something that isn’t round, in an actual restaurant.” She smiled, but he could see she was sad.

  Jesus, this was hard.

  “I don’t have my schedule yet. Can I get back to you?” It wasn’t quite a lie.

  “Sure. You’ve got my number.”

  “I do.”

  He walked up the hall to the door, Leah following him.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said as he reached for the handle.

  “Of course.” He faced her, very aware of the narrowness of the space and the fact that he hadn’t turned on the light.

  “The other week you said you had stuff going on. Is that code for having a girlfriend?”

  He hadn’t even dreamed she might interpret his words in that way. “No. I’m not involved with anyone right now.”

  “So, if you wanted to, there’s nothing stopping you from doing anything?” She watched him with those big eyes of hers, waiting.