THE DEAL by Marsh, Nicola (electronic reader txt) 📕

Return to scanning the social pages in print and online for snippets of his exciting life? Return to turning a pale shade of green at the latest woman in his life?

She needed to get a life. Fast. Perhaps she’d enlist Sal’s help after all.

“I must be getting desperate,” she muttered, sinking beneath the water. It didn’t help. Nothing could wash away the doldrums tonight. Only one thing could lift her spirits but she needed to dry off, open the freezer and grab a spoon before she could try it. Thank goodness for ice cream, a girl’s best friend.

After moisturising, towel-drying her hair and slipping into her piggy pyjamas, she armed herself with a tub of strawberry ice-cream, the biggest spoon she could find and sank into the soft leather cushions. After scrolling through a list of old favourite movies, she chose Crazy Stupid Love.

If Ryan Gosling in all his shirtless glory couldn’t distract her, nothing could.

As she hit the play button, the doorbell rang.

“Damn,” she mumbled, wondering momentarily if it was too late to turn off the lights and pretend she wasn’t home. No such luck. The doorbell rang again, louder and more insistent this time.

“I’m coming. Hold your horses.”

She opened the door a fraction and peeked around it.

“Hi. Can I come in?”

This had to be a recurring nightmare. Whenever she thought about Matt for more than five seconds, he materialised. And she was wearing pig pyjamas, for goodness sake.

“Uh...I’m kind of busy at the moment.” It sounded lame and she knew it.

“Promise I won’t stay long. I just have to ask you something.” His expression melted her heart: soft, cajoling, little boy lost.

Her curiosity piqued. “Just for a minute, okay?”

A warm smile lit up his face. “Thanks.” He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. “Are you going to let me in?”

She grimaced, wishing she’d opted for slinky satin rather than practical cotton tonight. “Yeah, though watch out for the animals.”

“The anim—” He stopped mid-sentence as she unchained the door, a grin spreading across his handsome face.

“If you make one wise-crack about my porcine friends, you’re out of here,” she said, struggling to keep the laughter out of her voice.

As he looked her up and down and his smile turned to a smirk, she brandished the spoon like a sword. “I mean it.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Don’t worry. You won’t hear a squeal—uh, I mean a peep, out of me.”

He joined in her laughter and followed her into the lounge room.

“Sorry for dropping by announced but I need to discuss something with you.” He paced the room, his unease worrying her.

“Want a drink?”

“Coffee would be great.” He glanced at the movie title on the TV screen. “Nothing like a good chick flick, huh?”

She smiled. “What would you know about chick flicks? I thought you’d be an action type.”

He shook his head. “Just shows you don’t know me very well. I happen to like soppy stuff. I’m a big softy at heart.”

Kara picked up the tub of ice cream she’d been about to devour and headed towards the kitchen. “You? A softy? Give me a break.”

She busied herself making the coffee, and when she returned to the lounge room she found him studying the photos on the marble mantle-piece.

“You must miss them a lot,” he murmured, indicating the photos of her parents.

“Uh-huh. I can’t believe it’s been so long since the accident.”

He sat beside her on the couch. “The jerk that killed them is probably out on the streets by now.” He sipped his coffee. “The law stinks when it comes to drunk drivers. I’m glad I don’t have to defend them. Corporate law is cleaner for the most part.”

Kara didn’t want to dwell on her parents’ death or the drunk who had killed them, using his vehicle as a lethal weapon. She’d dealt with her anger and had moved on, though it didn’t stop the pain.

She stared at Matt over the rim of her mug. He looked tired, the lines around his mouth more pronounced and a hint of darkness under his eyes. He was still gut-wrenchingly sexy, despite the obvious signs of fatigue.

“What did you want to talk about?” Her curiosity increased as he reached into his pocket and handed her a gilt-edged envelope.

“Here. I thought you might like this.”

She opened the envelope. A small, ornate key slid onto her palm. She glanced up, unable to fathom the intensity of his stare. “What’s this?”

“Remember that summer when we used to hang out at the boat shed and I found your diary key?”

How could she forget? It had been the summer she’d fallen in love with him and her diary had held all her secret longings. “Yeah, I remember,” she answered cautiously, wondering where this was leading.

“You freaked out and demanded I give you back the key. I did, though I wanted to find out what made you tick.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“When we met at the Blue Lounge, you wanted to know what made me tick. This key is giving you the opportunity to find out.”

She noted the expectant expression, the mischievous glint in his eyes. He was up to something. Placing the key on the glass-topped coffee table, she decided to call his bluff. “You’re too complex for me, Matt Byrne. I’ve given up trying to work you out.”

He edged towards her, his evocative masculine scent wrapping her in a cloak of familiarity. “Aren’t you up for the challenge?”

He’d done it again. Drawing on their memories, using them as a persuasive tool. He knew she’d never backed away from a challenge, ever. And she wasn’t about to blemish her record now.

“Okay.