She rinsed her hands in the sink, ridding them of the olive oil she’d massaged into the meat, then toweled them dry. As she shut off the water, her traitorous stomach growled...again.
“Are you gonna be alright until it’s ready?” With his tone light and teasing, he looked her way.
She smiled. “I think I’ll be fine.”
Waiting for the food would be the easy part.
Keeping her hands off him would be a whole different matter.
* * *
As night fell over Cooper Inlet, Campbell found himself back on the sofa with Sierra. They’d returned there after finishing the delicious meal they’d made. The main difference between now and earlier was that she seemed a little more relaxed, and had chosen to sit on the middle cushion rather than on the opposite end of the sofa.
Outside, the wind had calmed somewhat, but the rain showed no signs of stopping. By his estimate, he wasn’t likely to be going anywhere before tomorrow morning, at the earliest.
She’d turned on the television and surfed to an episode of Mysteries at the Museum. He half watched the show while continuing to page through the poetry book on his phone. She sat close enough now for him to pick up the feminine scent emanating from her. He couldn’t tell if it was perfume or shampoo, or a combination of the many grooming products women tended to use. Whatever the case, she smelled of bright citrus and spicy cinnamon, and the combination intoxicated him.
During the commercial break, she looked his way. “This show is a trip. They always find the weirdest artifacts with the craziest backstories.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’ve seen a couple of episodes, and it is pretty wild.”
She stood then. “Do you want any more food? If not, I’m about to put it away.”
He patted his stomach and shook his head. “I’m full. It tasted great, by the way.”
She winked. “You get some of the credit, since you were my sous-chef.” Turning, she walked to the kitchen.
He watched her every step, hypnotized by the sway of her ample hips. The way she walked seemed like an art form, a manifestation of her confidence and femininity. She wasn’t twisting or strutting; this was her natural gait. It was the physical manifestation of who she was, or at least it seemed that way based on his limited knowledge of her. Whatever it was, that certain something about her was what made her so attractive, and made her so talented as an actress. He’d seen this mysterious quality of hers play out on-screen many times before, and in no film had it been played up so much as in Waltz at Midnight.
She moved around the kitchen, putting the leftover food in glass containers and tucking it into the fridge. When she returned, she sat down and tucked her bare feet beneath her hips.
His brow lifted. Am I imagining it, or is she sitting closer to me now? Wordlessly, he placed his hand palm down on the sofa. Sure enough, there wasn’t enough room now for him to spread his fingers.
Lifting his hand again, he rested it on his thigh, fighting back a smile. It was possible she didn’t realize how close she’d sat. It was also possible she’d purposely moved into his personal bubble. Either way, he wasn’t going to be the one to mention it. They were in her place, and whatever happened tonight would be on her terms.
By now, the show had returned from the break, and she fell right in, watching it with interest. He, on the other hand, set aside his phone and contented himself with watching her. As entertaining as the show was, he found Sierra even more interesting.
She seemed to notice his regard, because she turned her large, sparkling dark eyes his way and asked, “What is it?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
She shrugged. “I’m not uncomfortable, really. I just couldn’t help noticing you staring at me.”
“I was just thinking about something. Remember how I told you Waltz at Midnight is one of my favorite movies of all time?”
A soft smile tilted her lips. “Yes, I remember, and I appreciate you saying that.”
“I meant it.” He scratched his chin. “Can I ask you a question about that movie?”
“Sure.”
“Do you feel you have anything in common with your character?”
“You mean Reva Lane, the jewel thief better known as the Midnight Shadow?” She chuckled, then made a dramatic gesture with both hands. “Well, I’ve never knocked over a jewelry store, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He laughed. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean her attitude, her outlook on things. Do you share anything like that with her?”
Her gaze shifted, as if she were looking outside at the falling rain. “I’d like to think I’m as fearless and intelligent as she is.” She eyed him. “What made you ask that question?”
“I see a little of her in you. At least I think I do, based on our limited interactions.”
She shifted a little closer to him, changing position until she sat cross-legged, right next to him. Their thighs were now touching again, just as they had when they were sitting on the landing earlier. “Care to elaborate on that?”
“I see you as guarded, closed off.”
She pursed her lips.
Sensing her annoyance, he held up his hand. “Wait, hear me out. I also see you as confident and self-assured. That’s probably what stood out to me the most about the character, and I saw it again in Della’s the other day.”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw you with your costar. I can tell she’s not your favorite person, but you kept it very professional. At least from what I saw.” He stretched his arms over his head, to shake off some of the stiffness from sitting so long in one position. “I did leave before the scene finished filming, but I’m gonna assume you didn’t go upside her head.”
She laughed then, releasing a full, diaphragm-deep sound that brightened his whole world. When she finally recovered, she shook her head, the mirth still visible in her eyes. “You’re a mess!”
“But I’m right, though.”
She giggled. “Yeah. I’m not too fond of Mia, but I’m not about to jeopardize my career for her or anyone else.”
He smiled. “See, that’s what I mean. You’ve got your head on straight, your priorities are in order and your path laid out. You’re out here going for what you want without waiting for permission. I respect that.”
The humor dancing in her eyes morphed into something else. She held his gaze. “Do you really think that? Or is this just flattery?”
“It’s the truth. Yeah, I’ll admit I feel like a teenage boy who got pulled onstage with his favorite singer right now.” Damn. Didn’t mean to say that aloud. He ran a hand over his face. “But I meant every word I said.”
The soft smile on her face grew even bigger. “Wow.”
He smiled back, still trying to read that look in her eyes. What is she thinking right now?
A moment later, she leaned toward him. Her small hand came up to cup his jaw. “You’re quite the charmer, Campbell Monroe.”
“Not really.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. His face tingled beneath the warmth of her touch. “I’m just honest.”
She tilted her head, letting her eyes drift closed as her lips formed that unmistakable pucker shape.
He didn’t know how they’d gotten here, but he wasn’t about to turn down an invitation like that. He placed a hand on her shoulder, then gently touched his