LITMIR.BIZ

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when he’d dared to look her straight in the eye he’d seen her every emotion flash across her face. She’d worn her love for her food openly and extravagantly. He’d flinched away from it, intimidated in the face of such an outpouring of emotion, fearful of its effect on his iron self-control.

      If he’d had any other choice he’d have stayed as far away from Maya Hartney as he could. What did he care who they hired anyway? He wouldn’t even have been doing the tastings if Rachel hadn’t sneaked them into his calendar. But then Sir Cuthbert—the senior partner in his firm, the man who held Will’s career in his hands—had spotted Maya as she’d been on her way out of the building and Will had been forced into a corner.

      Sir Cuthbert had arrived unannounced in Will’s office.

      ‘What have you done to Maya Hartney?’

      No greetings, no small talk.

      ‘What have I done to her?’ Will had asked carefully. ‘Nothing. Why? What did she say?’

      By the time Will had admitted he hadn’t tried even half the dishes Maya had brought with her he’d known that he was in trouble. Sir Cuthbert had had that look in his eye. The one that told Will he wouldn’t want to hear what was coming next.

      ‘I’m worried about you, Will.’

      Not what he’d expected. And his concern wasn’t necessary in the slightest.

      ‘There’s no need, Sir Cuthbert,’ he’d said, relieved that he wasn’t about to lose his job. ‘I admit I was a little preoccupied in that meeting, and I’ll make amends with Maya Hartney if I need to.’ He made a mental note to have Rachel send her something.

      ‘It’s more than that, Will,’ Sir Cuthbert had persisted. ‘You don’t take your holiday. You’re always the last to leave the office. Some mornings I wonder whether you’ve been home at all.’ He glanced down to the smartphone in Will’s hand. ‘You can’t be parted from that thing for more than a minute. There’s more to life and to business than the numbers, Will. It’s about people too. You need to take some time off or you’re going to burn out.’

      Will had suppressed a groan, impatient to get back to work, not interested in cod psychology from his boss. ‘I’m grateful for your concern, Sir Cuthbert, really. But there isn’t a problem. I don’t need time off.’

      ‘This isn’t a request, Will.’

      The older man crossed his arms and widened his stance, and for the first time Will realised he was serious. The man had no reason to question his commitment to his job. He put in twelve-, fourteen-, eighteen-hour days. Whatever it took to get the job done. He was more at home in his office than he was...well...at home. When he was there he was focussed. He tuned the world out, saw only his projects, the numbers. And now he was being reprimanded for spending too much time here.

      ‘I mean it. If you don’t take some time off I’m going to have some difficult choices to make about your role here. The pro bono work you’re taking on, for example.’

      ‘You can’t make me drop the Julia House project, Cuthbert.’ A swift shot of panic hit Will in the belly, but he pushed it away, determined to think this through logically, rationally. He smoothed back the sharp emotion until he couldn’t feel it any longer; he didn’t want to examine it or need to understand it. He just knew that ensuring the success of Julia House was an imperative. He had to make this work, so he focussed on fixing the problem.

      ‘I don’t want to, Will. I know it’s a good cause, and I know it means a lot to you. But you’re stressed and you’re tired and today you took it out on Maya Hartney. Make it up to her. Fix the problem and take a few days to recharge, get some perspective. Or I’ll have no choice but to cut back your non-essential work.’

      How could he tell Sir Cuthbert that he hadn’t been rude because he was stressed, or tired? He felt neither of those things. Throughout his life he’d trained himself to feel nothing. To manage his emotions—keep them at bay. He’d been rude to Maya because she had unsettled him, scared him, and putting distance between them had seemed the safest thing to do. Now he found himself standing on her doorstep, half hoping she wouldn’t answer the door, worried about what it could lead to if she did.

      Will wasn’t sure what it was about her that had heated his blood and demanded his attention, but he’d had to force his eyes to his smartphone for the whole of their meeting just to keep any semblance of peace in his head. It had been years—more than a decade—since he’d last had to fight so hard to keep his cool.

      He was used to meeting beautiful women. He was even used to taking beautiful women to bed. But he’d been blindsided by Maya’s bright colours, her wild hair and the vulnerable anger in her eyes. He didn’t want her in his head, and the gnawing feeling in his belly that had started when they met was disturbing. He was used to control. To taking what he wanted, giving what was desired and walking away with no one getting hurt. There was no reason to cede control here. She was just a little unusual. That was all. It was taking his brain a little longer to learn how to keep her at the same distance it did everything else.

      Finally Maya came to the door. Back in the office he hadn’t let himself really notice her appearance. But there it had been easier to stop himself, to pull his eyes back to his smartphone or the safe grey of the walls. Now he truly opened his eyes to appreciate her. The first thing he noticed, of course, were the colours. She was wearing all of them. He was far from an expert in these things, but was it normal to wear orange and pink together? Did one normally add yellow to that mix?

      There was more to see than colour, though. His eyes followed the curves of her body, noticing the way her skirt spilt over her generous hips, swinging gently as she shifted her weight to one leg and waited for his gaze to reach her eyes. He knew that he should be looking away, shouldn’t be indulging himself, allowing his guard to slip. But she fascinated him. Her very presence brought light and heat and energy. And, as much as he wanted those sensations gone, he couldn’t help but pander to his curiosity.

      When his gaze reached her face she raised an eyebrow. His appraisal hadn’t gone unnoticed. And it seemed that the attention was not appreciated. Good. He dragged his mind back to his work, back to Julia House. This was business and nothing else. There was no way that he could let Cuthbert pull his project. He had given his word that he would secure funding without fail, and if that meant persuading an errant chef to get back onside, regardless of the unsettling effect that she had on him, then that was what he would do.

      He firmed his stance and squared his shoulders. He would make this right.

      Maya opened the door wide, and as soon as she clocked him her face dropped into a scowl. Her hands rested on her hips, one of them wrapped tight around a wooden spoon. She was not expecting his visit, and he wasn’t a welcome surprise. Well, good. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to be here either.

      Will braced himself. He had the horrible feeling that this was going to get messy. And he didn’t do messy. Ever. He did cold and rational and detached, and he did it better than anyone else in the city. It was the only way to find any sense of peace. Looked as if she was going to make him grovel. And if he didn’t he would have to deal with Rachel’s disapproving silence in the office tomorrow. When she’d heard Sir Cuthbert demand that he take time off she’d appeared in the doorway of his office with a flyer and a plan.

      ‘Mr Thomas, I wasn’t expecting you.’ Maya brushed a smudge of flour from her cheek as she spoke.

      ‘You wouldn’t answer my emails, and we need to talk.’ He knew that he sounded brusque—terse, even—but he wanted to stay focussed. Regardless of the constant threat of distraction, he needed to think strictly business to get this deal done.

      Maya squared her shoulders, mirroring his confrontational stance, but then a beeping sound came from inside the cottage. She hesitated for a second, still eyeballing him, before turning and walking across the hallway.

      ‘We can talk, if you insist,’ she called over her shoulder, ‘but I’m not going to change my mind and I’m not going to stop. I’ve got a sauce on

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