"Never?"
"No. Dates are usually out somewhere…drinks, dinner, that kind of thing. And I don't offer to cook, because, well…a restaurant is always a better idea than me cooking. I don't know much beyond the basics, certainly nothing to impress anyone." She paused. "What about you? Do you cook for your dates?"
"I have made dinner for other women. Sorry to say you're not the first."
"I figured as much," she said dryly.
"With the work I do, sometimes I just prefer to be home."
"It's interesting you say that, because your apartment isn't homey. It's beautifully decorated, but the only room that really feels lived-in is this one. The rest of your place could use a more personal touch. I could help you warm it up."
"I'll keep that in mind."
She slid onto the stool at the kitchen island. "You're just telling me what I want to hear, aren't you? Is that a tried-and-true FBI technique?"
"Sometimes. People are generally more agreeable when you tell them what they want to hear. But I learned that when I was a kid, not when I got to the FBI," he said with a smile. "After the divorce, my parents competed for a while to be the best parent, but not really in my eyes, rather in their rival's eyes. When my mom would make me dinner, she'd ask me if it was better than what my dad fed me. I would say yes. And when my dad asked me if I liked living with him better than with my mom, I'd say yes."
"So, you never got to have your own opinion."
"I had my own opinions; I just didn't share them. What was the point? It wasn't like making one of them unhappy would make me happier."
"You became cynical at a very young age."
"And you didn't?" he challenged.
"No, I did," she admitted. "But Landon kept me from going too dark. He was always looking up, always believing that some kind of magic was out there, that people were inherently good, we just couldn't always see it. We used to go up on the roof of our apartment building after my dad died. We'd lie on our backs and look up at the stars, and Landon would point out constellations. He'd tell me about all the other worlds that could be out there, how we were just one small grain of sand in the universe. He wanted me to look up, look forward, believe in tomorrow." She gave Matt a tired, sad smile. "Now all I do is look down and backward, trying to find answers in the past. It's ironic, isn't it?"
"Maybe finding those answers will let you look forward again."
"What about you? What made you look forward when you were a kid?"
Matt was quiet for a moment as he stirred the chili. Then he said, "Birthdays."
"Really? Because you got two celebrations?"
"No, because I wanted to get old enough to control my own life. I hated flying back and forth between San Francisco and San Diego, never knowing which parent actually wanted me there. I always felt like I was interrupting their new lives, their new families. I couldn't wait to be eighteen, so no court could tell me where I had to be."
"That makes sense."
"I envy your relationship with Landon, the closeness you shared," he said, glancing back at her. "My siblings are so much younger; we never had that kind of bond. I have certainly never had anyone in my life who would fight for me the way you fight for Landon."
"Landon and I fought for each other," she said quietly. "It was the only way we survived. It's a habit I can't break now, even though he's gone."
As the chili began to boil, Matt lowered the heat, and she got up to get some salad dressing from the fridge. As she turned around, she collided with Matt, who was reaching for a spoon. She stumbled as she set the dressing on the island, and Matt's hands landed on her waist to steady her.
He was suddenly so close, his face just inches away from her; his lips parted, his breath mixing with hers. For a moment, they just stared at each other.
"Haley," he said, his voice rough and sexy.
She knew he wanted her to move away, but all she wanted to do was get closer, and she couldn't stop herself from putting her hands on his shoulders. She licked her lips as she gazed into his eyes. "I know this is complicated, but?—"
"I don't care anymore," he interrupted. And then he kissed her.
She responded immediately, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as the sparks ignited between them, creating fiery kisses that were hungry, desperate, full of a need they'd both been denying. But now they'd surrendered.
Matt's hands tangled in her hair, holding her close as he deepened the kiss, sending heat shooting through her body. The closer they got, the more she realized it wasn't close enough. She wanted to lose herself in him and for him to lose himself in her. She wanted to put away all the questions and fears and just savor what was happening right this second.
And then a buzzing phone jolted them apart.
