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“Allie? Do you forgive me?” Mortimer asked.
“You apologized weeks ago.”
“But when I did, I honestly didn’t know how deeply you’d been wounded. And I am so terribly sorry.”
Wounded. Was she wounded? Hurt, yes. Lonely, yes. But wounded to her soul?
Oh, yes.
“It’s not your fault. You didn’t make me fall in love with him. You didn’t make him the wrong man for me.”
“But if I hadn’t dragged you to the shore, you’d never have seen him again and wouldn’t have gotten in quite so…deep.”
Perhaps. But perhaps not. Something in her had awakened from the moment she and Damon had met. She didn’t know that she’d be quite as desolate now if she’d never made love with him, but she knew she’d still be mourning what might have been. Even if she’d never seen him again after he’d left Trouble.
“I’m fine. But I hope you won’t try any more match-making.”
He shook his head, sending his snow-white hair bouncing on his shoulders. “Of course not.” Then, a glitter of mischief making his blue eyes sparkle, he added, “Though I can’t help hoping Michael will meet someone interesting while he’s here. Trouble certainly was lucky for Max.”
“As long as you leave me out of it,” she said vehemently as she got up and straightened her desk for the night. Grabbing her purse, she walked over and leaned down to press a soft kiss on Mortimer’s smooth, finely veined cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Touching her hand and smiling, he rose to escort her out.
As Allie drove home, she couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for Michael Taylor. He might not know it, but he was entering the lion’s den. His grandfather wanted great-grandchildren, and since Max and Sabrina lived in California, Mortimer was probably willing to do just about anything to marry off his remaining two grandsons. Looked like the younger one was on the block next. “Better you than me, buddy,” she muttered, having had enough matchmaking to last her whole life.
When she arrived at Miss Emily’s house, which was divided into two apartments—Allie and Hank living upstairs—she noticed a strange car parked out front. She didn’t think much of it, though she briefly wondered if Miss Emily’s nephew had come for a visit. God, she hoped not. He was a nice enough young guy, and he’d made it clear he wanted to take her out. But Allie wasn’t interested. Hadn’t been B.D.C.—Before Damon Cole—and certainly wasn’t now.
Pulling into the driveway, she reached over to the other seat, grabbed her purse and stepped out. To her surprise, she noticed that the other car was occupied. A man was stretched out in the front seat, which was tilted back in a reclining position. It wasn’t until he sat up, apparently hearing her car door slam, that she realized who it was.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, recognizing the black hair, the violet eyes.
He stared at her through his open window, unblinking, devouring her with his stare. It seemed like forever before he finally opened the door and stepped out.
She’d forgotten how tall he was. How lean, how hard. How utterly masculine. Unable to do anything but stand there, Allie watched him approach, racking her brain for something to say. Unsure what, exactly, this meant.
Finally, he reached the driveway and crossed it, until he stood directly in front of her. Even before he said a word, she swayed a little, as if magnetically drawn toward him. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“Taking my life back.”
He didn’t say anything else. He merely put his hands on both sides of her face and tugged her toward him for a sweet, warm kiss that said everything else there was to say.
Allie sighed, dropped her purse, forgot the world existed and fell against him. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she tangled her fingers in his now short hair, so different from his wicked Roma King look. But perfect for Damon, the guy she’d fallen in love with.
The slow, sweet and drugging kiss both asked for forgiveness and offered understanding, and Allie answered it with every bit of emotion coursing through her until they broke apart, each breathless.
Lowering his hands to her waist, Damon picked her up off the ground and buried his face in her hair. “God, I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
Slowly—very slowly—he let her slide down his body to stand on her own two feet. It felt as if she’d landed on a new planet. One where everything was perfect and where the future stretched out in a magnificent lifetime of love and happiness. And family.
“I’m okay, Allie,” he said. “I’ll never stop regretting what happened, but I am certain of this—I can’t live my life under the shadows of an ugly past or worries about what could happen in the future. I can’t close my heart off completely unless I want to spend my life entirely alone.”
“Bad things can happen to anyone, not just a child,” she murmured, thinking of the long, sad life her mother had lived after the death of her father.
“Exactly,” he said, looking relieved that she’d instantly understood. “Nobody can keep someone else entirely safe. Trying to protect myself against being hurt or from ever feeling such tremendous guilt again isn’t worth the trade-off of never opening my heart to another person. Be that a child…or you.”
Closing her eyes, she let herself believe that this was really happening. He was here. He was ready. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that.”
