Her arms dropped to her sides. A fire sparked every point in her body. Her breasts pushed against the thin material of her T-shirt as her breathing deepened. Exactly the reaction he was trying to avoid.

She took a deep, infuriated breath. “Don’t take it personally! Don’t take it…Well, I did. I took it very personally. I simply told you that you looked totally different when you smiled and you shut down. How do you expect me not to take that personally?”

Even talking about it brought back enough dark emotions he’d almost decided not to apologise to her. But as soon as he’d walked in and saw how worried and tired she looked, he had to offer her something to perk her back to her usual self. He didn’t know why it was important, but he needed to see her smile today and it wasn’t going to happen while she looked at him like he’d skinned Grumpy Cat alive in front of her eyes.

“Let’s just say I’m not used to personal comments like that. It took me by surprise,” he said.

“Damn right it did.” A beautiful flush worked across her cheeks, highlighting her peeks and made the light dance from her eyes and lips.

“Look. Marlowe. It’s complicated.” He had in his mind that he’d just say how sorry he was and that would be it. Truth was, no-one said anything to him like Marlowe had. If they did, he simply didn’t let anyone close enough to let it affect him. But he’d slipped with Marlowe.

She pursed her lips, her gaze roaming his face, “I’m waiting.”

He shuffled. Surely she was going press him. Wasn’t she? “Look, can we drop it? It’s not something I like to go over.”

“Clearly. You know, sometimes the best thing to do is talk to someone. How long has it been since you’ve done that?” she said.

Never. He ran fingers through his hair and grimaced when he realized he’d run a stream of foam across the side of his head. She grabbed a tea towel, stepped close and gently wiped the foam from his hair. He sunk into her clear gaze, tilting into the warmth.

“There. Got it all.”

She stayed where she was, just a hairsbreadth away from him. Her warmth and cinnamon scent floated around him, inciting urges he wanted to ignore if he knew what was best for him.

He’d done it in the past. Switched off from wanting a woman. But with Marlowe, it wasn’t that easy. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to. Her tongue worked over her plumped lips. A long, slow, pink sweep. Soft lips, he guessed. Silky. And warm. He’d probably taste whatever she was cooking on her tongue. Brown onion and garlic. Maybe some tomato paste. Something savory or spicy. Or maybe that would be her normal flavor.

If he lowered his head, she might let him brush his mouth over hers. Just a little. Just quickly. He wondered if that would even be enough? What if it wasn’t? He’d have to kiss her properly then, touch her, feel her, sink his tongue into her mouth to see if he was right. If she was as delicious as she looked.

Then, if she was, then would he be able to stop? He’d be lured closer to her. He’d need more than just one kiss. One kiss might turn into more kissing, then touching, then he’d need the heat of skin to skin contact, then he’d need to make love to her. Not quickly though. All night long. But one night wouldn’t be enough. A month. Yeah, a month would be good. Then they’d be in a relationship and it would go against everything he intended for his life. His long, lonely life.

That wasn’t fair to any woman. Especially not Marlowe. He would only make her sadder than she’d looked today when he’d apologized, and he couldn’t have that.

“David?” The question was on her face. Open and trusting and wanting.

She was waiting. For him to kiss her. His heart lurched and tumbled into his stomach. Tension clung to the atoms between them, tilting first one way, then the other. He closed his eyes and saw his father’s unsmiling face when he told him Mum had died. He’d just gone off to school one day, happy in his perfect little world and returned home to a different life. A life he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

He stepped back. Cool air rushed between them, ice formed in his veins. He clutched the ice, needing it to numb his mind and body. He had to make her see he wouldn’t be any good for her. She deserved someone who was a complete, functional human being. He had to stop before anything had a chance to begin. “Because there’s nothing to smile about, Marlowe. Life is hard and smiling isn’t a priority.”

She blinked, her lashes beating furiously. He saw the moment her shoulders stiffened. She stepped away, sinking her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “I see.”

He sighed, remorse flowing unhindered through his system, “Look. I only stopped in for five minutes on my way to a business meeting to see how the spreadsheets are going. I need to see them to assess what we need to do.”

Her gaze dropped to the floor, “I haven’t managed to get to it. I’ve been busy.”

She wore the same look on her face she’d had at that breakfast. He was the one to put it there. Again. He sighed and looked around the kitchen. Food devastation as usual, but as he looked he noted that although things were everywhere, there was a pattern to it all. Prepared stacks of herbs and vegetables were in piles, there was a heap of stock, butter and other things he hadn’t a clue what to do with.

Right now, she blinked at him with bags under her eyes. She was exhausted. Right now she needed help. He put his hands on his hips and looked around the kitchen, “Finish your coffee, Marlowe. I’m going to help you get these meals out.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him, “I thought you had a meeting.”

“I’ll re-schedule.” He wasn’t going to leave with her feeling like this. What sort of person would that have made him? One that can’t communicate with women? Or maybe communicate with the one woman I’ve started to care for. Enough, Walker! Not liking the direction of his thoughts he pulled the spatula out of the cutlery drawer.

“I didn’t think you could cook.”

He held up the spatula like he’d never handled one before. “What makes you think that?” Her smile immediately warmed him, “However, I happen to have the world’s greatest chef sitting next to me guiding my hand at all times.”

She peeked up at him after a moment’s pause. “You think I’m the world’s greatest chef?”

“Undoubtedly. Now sit and rest. Tell me what I have to do. I want to cook up a storm and without you, I'm liable to cook up something inedible," he said.

To his wonderment, she smiled. It lit her entire face. Her eyes especially. That was better. Much better. He could look at her smile all day long. “Just tell me how to cut the onions properly. They make me cry.”

“Well, that’s why God created onions. You don’t have to hold everything inside until it crushes you. Crying’s good for you once in a while, David. Always remember that.”