coat.
Get a grip
, he told himself.
Itâs just a friendly meal
⦠although the sight of her hips swaying in front of him in her tight-fitting dress as she walked down the hall in front of him prompted a reaction that was distinctly more than just friendly. He smiled as he followed her into the kitchen.
âAnyone would think you had been here before. Here, sit down.â He pulled out a chair from under the table, which he had briefly considered laying properly, flowers and all, before realising that wouldn't look at all casual.
âI followed the smell of the food. Which, if Iâm not very much mistaken, is curry?â
She sat down as Matt poured them both a glass of wine.
âChicken tikka masala. My own recipe,â he said with pride, then cursed as the microwave pinged to let him know very conspicuously that the ready-made rice was indeed ready. Lucy laughed, looking instantly girlish as she bit her lip to stifle her giggles.
âYou know,â she said in an amused tone as she watched Matt dishing up, the spicy aroma warming the large, rather minimalist kitchen, âcurry is apparently the most popular dish in England now?â
âJust as well as itâs about the only thing I can cook,â he admitted, setting her plate in front of her.
A silence ensued as they began to eat, but it was, he noticed, a more companionable silence than the awkward pauses that had been so evident in the restaurant. At least she was enjoying the food; she looked like she needed a good meal.
âSo how was your day?â Lucy asked eventually.
âUneventful,â Matt admitted, âthough in my line of work, thatâs usually a good thing.â
âNo one got killed then,â she said, and though her voice was light there was an edge to it that made him look up sharply. Lucy gave a wry smile. âThere isnât really a safe subject is there?â
âI guess not.â Her eyes were watering again, but as he reached over the table in concern Lucy waved him away, coughed, and took a large drink of her wine.
âIâm fine. This is just a bit spicier than Iâm used to.âMatt shook his head.
âOn our first date I make you cry, now Iâm making you splutter on the second. Maybe next time we should stay away from food?â
âGood idea.â They both paused, acutely aware of those words.
Next time
. Matt inhaled and went to speak, not quite knowing what it was he meant to say. He never would, as Lucy set her cutlery down and looked at him intently.
âI need to be honest with you, Matt.â
âOh?â
He drank his wine, doing his best to look casual.
âI had slightly ulterior motives when I gave you my number.â
Matt sat back in his chair, an eyebrow raised but he didnât answer, instead just gazed at her and waited for her to speak as if he had all night. It occurred to him that he used a similar tactic in the interrogation room when he sensed a confession. It had the desired effect as Lucy, obviously expecting him to draw out of her whatever she intended to say, looked wrong-footed and blurted out, âI wanted you to find out his address.â
Matt kept his face deliberately blank as he spoke, though he already knew the answer.
âWhose address?â
Lucy paused.
âYou know whose.â
âTerry Prince.â
It wasnât a question, but she answered it anyway.
âYes.â
Matt ran a palm over his chin, a habit Lucy was beginning to recognise.
âAre you angry?â Her eyes were wide and she was poised in her chair, giving the impression she was about to bolt.Matt forced himself to relax, aware of the tension in his jaw and shoulders. âHonestly?â He paused. âI don't know.â
âIâm sorry,â she said in a whisper, then carried on talking so quietly Matt had to lean over the table to hear her. âIt was crazy of course, but you have to understand, I
Get a grip
, he told himself.
Itâs just a friendly meal
⦠although the sight of her hips swaying in front of him in her tight-fitting dress as she walked down the hall in front of him prompted a reaction that was distinctly more than just friendly. He smiled as he followed her into the kitchen.
âAnyone would think you had been here before. Here, sit down.â He pulled out a chair from under the table, which he had briefly considered laying properly, flowers and all, before realising that wouldn't look at all casual.
âI followed the smell of the food. Which, if Iâm not very much mistaken, is curry?â
She sat down as Matt poured them both a glass of wine.
âChicken tikka masala. My own recipe,â he said with pride, then cursed as the microwave pinged to let him know very conspicuously that the ready-made rice was indeed ready. Lucy laughed, looking instantly girlish as she bit her lip to stifle her giggles.
âYou know,â she said in an amused tone as she watched Matt dishing up, the spicy aroma warming the large, rather minimalist kitchen, âcurry is apparently the most popular dish in England now?â
âJust as well as itâs about the only thing I can cook,â he admitted, setting her plate in front of her.
A silence ensued as they began to eat, but it was, he noticed, a more companionable silence than the awkward pauses that had been so evident in the restaurant. At least she was enjoying the food; she looked like she needed a good meal.
âSo how was your day?â Lucy asked eventually.
âUneventful,â Matt admitted, âthough in my line of work, thatâs usually a good thing.â
âNo one got killed then,â she said, and though her voice was light there was an edge to it that made him look up sharply. Lucy gave a wry smile. âThere isnât really a safe subject is there?â
âI guess not.â Her eyes were watering again, but as he reached over the table in concern Lucy waved him away, coughed, and took a large drink of her wine.
âIâm fine. This is just a bit spicier than Iâm used to.âMatt shook his head.
âOn our first date I make you cry, now Iâm making you splutter on the second. Maybe next time we should stay away from food?â
âGood idea.â They both paused, acutely aware of those words.
Next time
. Matt inhaled and went to speak, not quite knowing what it was he meant to say. He never would, as Lucy set her cutlery down and looked at him intently.
âI need to be honest with you, Matt.â
âOh?â
He drank his wine, doing his best to look casual.
âI had slightly ulterior motives when I gave you my number.â
Matt sat back in his chair, an eyebrow raised but he didnât answer, instead just gazed at her and waited for her to speak as if he had all night. It occurred to him that he used a similar tactic in the interrogation room when he sensed a confession. It had the desired effect as Lucy, obviously expecting him to draw out of her whatever she intended to say, looked wrong-footed and blurted out, âI wanted you to find out his address.â
Matt kept his face deliberately blank as he spoke, though he already knew the answer.
âWhose address?â
Lucy paused.
âYou know whose.â
âTerry Prince.â
It wasnât a question, but she answered it anyway.
âYes.â
Matt ran a palm over his chin, a habit Lucy was beginning to recognise.
âAre you angry?â Her eyes were wide and she was poised in her chair, giving the impression she was about to bolt.Matt forced himself to relax, aware of the tension in his jaw and shoulders. âHonestly?â He paused. âI don't know.â
âIâm sorry,â she said in a whisper, then carried on talking so quietly Matt had to lean over the table to hear her. âIt was crazy of course, but you have to understand, I
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