He turned and took another glance at the view. A burst of yellow sand, followed by endless turquoise ocean. It really was a prime view. The beach was sheltered, in a little inlet, with no other property overlooking it. ‘I can imagine you’ve had offers for a place like this.’
She nodded as she emptied the chicken, noodles, herbs and spices out onto the counter. ‘From the developers? Constantly. Particularly since we own not just the bungalows, but the beach too. But the rest of the people in the street feel the same as I do. Staying here is like a family tradition to me. I get to call this piece of paradise mine.’ She put one hand up to her chest. ‘I might not be here all year round, but it’s here whenever I need it.’ She met his gaze with her dark brown eyes. ‘You can’t sell a part of yourself.’
There it was. The connection. It practically zinged in the air between them. Arissa could probably make a fortune if she sold up and moved. But her heart was here. He could see that. She was grounded here. Even though her family were gone. She loved her island—just as he loved his country.
Nowadays so many people were indifferent about where they stayed—flitting about from place to place, prioritising money over so much else. It was refreshing to meet someone who had as much commitment to their home as he did.
‘Family traditions are very important where I come from too,’ he said softly. He should tell her. He should tell her now about who he really was. But he didn’t want to spoil this moment or time between them.
This was the closest he’d felt to someone in, well, for ever. She didn’t know him as a prince. She didn’t want anything from him, and he liked holding onto that thought. That feeling.
She blinked and licked her lips, before lowering her eyes as she rearranged the ingredients. ‘You’re the first man I’ve invited back here in years,’ she said slowly.
The air around them seemed heavy. Every breath a little more laboured than the one before. There was a slight tremble in her hands. She was nervous. He was making her nervous.
But somehow he knew it wasn’t a bad nervous. Because he felt exactly the same.
‘I’m honoured to be here,’ he said simply as one of his hands moved over hers. ‘Thank you for inviting me.’ The touch of her warm skin against his sent a little buzz up his skin. He liked it. He liked it a lot.
The aroma of freesias drifted towards him. Perfume. She’d put on perfume when he’d changed. His heartbeat quickened.
He wanted to move closer. To slip his hands around her waist and turn her towards him. But it seemed too forward. Too presumptuous.
Arissa’s hand moved from under his and she stepped to one side, giving him a smile over her shoulder. Was she deliberately putting a little distance between them?
He wasn’t sure. But what he was sure about was that he didn’t want to put a foot wrong. He didn’t want to step anywhere she didn’t want him. She pulled out a wok and sat it on the hotplate. ‘Okay, before we start, no allergies?’
He shook his head; he was happy to take her lead. He’d agreed to make her dinner. That was exactly what he would do. ‘No allergies, why?’
She grinned. ‘Because I like peanuts with my chicken.’
He wrinkled his nose. ‘Peanuts?’
She nodded and pointed towards the chopping board and knives. ‘Peanuts. Okay, grab your tools and let’s get started. I’m famished.’
He looked at the array of ingredients in front of him. He wasn’t quite sure where to start, but the chicken seemed like a safe bet so he started chopping that.
‘What are you teaching me?’ he asked. ‘What recipe are we creating?’
She opened a cupboard and lifted out two wine glasses, taking a bottle from the fridge. ‘I’m teaching you how to make Malaysian spicy chicken noodles.’ She poured the wine. ‘But I want you to know that I have an unusual way of teaching.’ She took a sip from her wine glass and winked at him.
A smile automatically came to his lips. She was flirting with him, always a good sign. ‘What’s unusual about your teaching methods?’
She let out a laugh. ‘I don’t actually do anything. I just watch you do it. I’m like the ultimate lazy tutor.’