He released the wheel and walked over to her. A glance at the knot was enough to tell him it was sturdy. The boat bobbed gently in the water, rising up and down with the rhythm of the tide.
‘It’s perfect,’ he told her, not looking at the knot any more. He was too busy staring at her face, her lips, her deep hazel eyes.
He felt the warmth of her stare as her eyes held his. She looked different out here on the river. Stronger somehow. Even though she was wearing flat sneakers, she seemed to have grown a few inches.
The boat bobbed up and down in the water as he stood and stared, neither of them breaking the connection between them. The gentle ebb and flow of the water against the bank accompanied the sound of the blood rushing through his ears. A Canada Goose flew down onto the riverbank. Nestling among the tall grass he let out a deep honk.
‘Shall we go explore?’ he asked her, pointing at the bank. ‘We have enough time.’
Without taking her eyes from his, she shook her head. ‘No. I don’t want to explore.’
He frowned. ‘You don’t?’
‘No.’
‘If you’re cold I have a sweater in the galley. You want me to bring it up?’
The hint of a smile curled at her lips. ‘I’m not cold. I don’t need a sweater.’ She took a step forward, until the gap between them almost disappeared. He could smell the sweet fragrance of her shampoo, mixing in with the crisp, cool aroma of the river. He had to curl his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out and touching her.
‘London … ’
‘Sshh. It’s okay.’ There was a determined look on her face – one he hadn’t seen before. ‘You don’t need to look so worried, Ryan.’
‘I’m not worried.’
She reached up to trace the lines in his brow. ‘You’re frowning,’ she murmured, running her finger along the skin to his temple.
He closed his eyes for a moment. Even the briefest touch from her was enough to fire up the need he’d tried to keep buried. His fists were so tight his nails were digging into his palms.
When he opened his eyes, she’d closed the gap between them completely. She was on her tiptoes, staring at him, her eyes soft and yet deep.
‘Ryan,’ she whispered.
‘Yeah?’
‘What are you thinking?’
What was he thinking? Was she crazy? With her so close he could barely conjure up a lucid thought at all. ‘I’m thinking you’re awfully close.’
‘You want me to move away?’
‘No.’
‘You want to know what I’m thinking?’ she asked him. He could feel the warmth of her breath when she spoke.
‘There’s nothing I want to know more.’
His answer elicited another smile. ‘I’m thinking about that kiss. The one in my kitchen. And I’m thinking about what might have happened if the children hadn’t been there.’
‘Like now you mean?’
‘Yeah. Exactly like now.’ Her finger traced down from his temple to his jawline. ‘Because I can’t get it out of my head. Haven’t been able to since that night. I keep remembering how warm your lips were, how hard your body was. How I wanted more.’
‘More?’ His voice cracked.
‘So much more.’ She ran her finger along his bottom lip. He was standing as still as was possible on a moored-up boat. He was too entranced by this version of Juliet to do anything but stand and admire her. ‘Ryan?’
‘Yes?’