the tension all the way up his arms to his shoulders. His eyes darted around the kitchen, before fixing on a spot in mid-air.
She looked up at Will’s face, trying to see how he had reacted to her suggestion. So far, no change. But she’d no choice but to plough on and hope that her gamble would pay off.
‘Here.’ She handed him the fish and the filleting knife and showed him how to clean and gut it. ‘What you need to do next...’
She started to explain, and caught Will’s eye as she looked up. He was watching her intently. Well, he might not be connecting with the food, she thought, but he did look determined to get this right. That was a start at least.
‘What you need to do next is feel for the spine through the flesh and just let the blade glide along that line.’
The look on his face told her that he was determined to follow her instructions, but the way he was gripping the knife made her nervous.
‘Just relax your hand,’ she said. ‘The knife is sharp, so you just need to guide it and let it do the work.’
He grimaced as he forced the point of the knife into the fish. He was overthinking it, trying to push the knife where he thought it should be going rather than responding to the feel of it in his hand.
‘Wait,’ Maya cautioned him gently, taking in his fierce expression and white knuckles; she didn’t want him to slip and cut himself. ‘You just need to be patient with it. Don’t rush.’ She moved closer to his side and laid her hand over his, easing his fingers back from where they were gripping the knife. ‘Loosen your hand.’
Will did as he was told, and suddenly Maya was aware of how much closer she’d moved. The whole of the left side of her body was pressed against him, and her right arm, reaching across her body to help Will hold the knife, was doing something outrageous to her cleavage. She looked up and saw that Will had just made the same realisation. The red flush spreading over her face and chest added another colour to that day’s collection.
She tried to step away from him, hoping that she hadn’t given away evidence of her attraction. The last thing she needed was him guessing about the feelings she was trying to chase away. She didn’t want them—knew that acting on her attraction was bound to lead to hurt.
As she moved away she felt the knife slip, and knew before it happened that it was heading straight for her index finger.
‘Ouch!’ she yelped as the blade nicked her skin. She tried to draw her hand away, but sliced deeper into her knuckle in the process.
Concern clouded Will’s face as he reached for her hand. ‘Are you okay?’
Maya tried to pull back; being close to him was too tempting, too good to be safe. But he took a gentle hold of her wrist as he examined the cut.
‘I’m fine, really.’
She pulled her hand from his, wanting to clear her head. He was making it impossible to think clearly. All she wanted was a little space, a little distance between them. But he kept moving closer. His face still screamed grim determination, only this time she was the subject. He would help her whether she wanted it or not. When he was standing so close to her, showing such concern for a little cut, she had to remind herself of what she’d realised out in the hallway. Indulging that flutter in her belly and the racing in her pulse when she looked at Will Thomas was a very bad idea. Nothing was guaranteed to hurt her like indifference did. And she knew first-hand Will Thomas’s capacity for that.
She headed for the first aid box she kept by the sink.
‘At least I didn’t bleed on the fish.’ There was a little shake in her voice as she realised the strength of her feelings and the depth of her vulnerability. ‘It’ll still be okay for dinner. And you were doing a great job before I slipped.’
‘You were doing great,’ Will corrected her.
She turned to look at him, taken aback by the gravelly tone of his voice. His face showed more distress than ever, and she wondered why.
‘You were fine; you just need to loosen up a little.’ She spoke guardedly, protecting her feelings and his. With one hand under the tap, she tried to open the catch on the first aid box.
‘Let me do that,’ Will said, walking over to her.
She tried to insist that she could manage, but he washed his hands and then pulled the box from out of her reach. When he turned back he had gauze, blue plasters and a bandage in his hands and a determined look back on his face.
‘Will, I think just the plaster will probably do it.’ Maya risked a chuckle, hoping that it would break the tension in the air, but Will ignored her and stepped closer.
‘Stop, Maya. Why is it so hard to let me help you? You don’t have to do it all yourself.’
What other way was there? She’d done everything for herself all her life. And then spent most of her adult life doing whatever she could for other people. No one had ever tried to take care of her before.
She looked up at him and forgot everything she had told herself about not letting him close. Lost every self-protective instinct she had nurtured since stepping into his office. He just walked straight through every barrier she’d erected, every promise she’d made to herself since they’d met. Instead of getting away, she wondered how she’d not noticed before how tall he was—another inch closer and he’d be able to rest his chin on her head—and explored the structure of his face from this new, sharper angle.
His eyes didn’t leave her face, though they darted between her eyes and her mouth as he reached across and turned off the tap. His forehead wrinkled and his eyes were serious as he wrapped gauze around her finger, applying pressure as he pulled her hand between them, and then reached for a paper towel. He scrutinised the cut, watching the red beads bloom from her skin, and then clamped the gauze down. Maya gave a little gasp of discomfort.
‘Sorry,’ Will said, and she saw that his concern was genuine. ‘But the pressure will stop it bleeding.’
She knew that, of course, but she couldn’t help wondering whether that was really why he was standing so close, why neither of them had taken a step back. She told herself that he was only so close because he was helping her. But she knew that she was kidding herself. She’d been drawn to him from the first time she’d met him, and it was only her rigid determination to protect herself that had stopped her imagining this intimacy before. She wasn’t sure that she had the strength to pull away now that she was here. She took a deep breath to steady the swimming sensation that threatened to make her sway.
When Will was satisfied the cut had stopped bleeding he carefully unwrapped a plaster and pressed it around her finger, catching her eye as he did so and watching her expression. Smoothing the edges down, he inspected the digit from several angles, ensuring that the plaster held firm, and then held it up for her approval.
‘Thanks.’ The word came out breathy, unsure, and as she heard her voice she knew that she had to act. She had to do something—and now—if she was going to stop herself getting hurt. This had gone more than far enough already. Maya looked up from her finger to Will’s face. ‘It’s fine now,’ she said, trying to pull her hand away.
But Will kept a firm hold on it, using it to pull her fractionally closer until her chest was pressed against him.
And then he froze. Maya watched reality crash through his face as he realised what he was doing. He dropped her hand and turned away from her, and she glimpsed his hard, set expression twist into a grimace.
Relief and disappointment flooded Maya and she leant back against the sink, trying to remember that space was what she had wanted. But his rejection stung her nonetheless. She kept her eyes on the floor until she could look up at him with an indifferent expression.
‘Let’s carry on,’ she managed eventually.
Will proceeded to hack the remains of the fillet from the fish. She briefly considered trying to help, but her last attempt had ended