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‘Why are you here, Damon? Because it seems to me you said everything you needed to say yesterday.’
Her bluntness caught him off guard. ‘I said a lot yesterday, I know. And I’m here because I think I was too hasty. As you said, the news was a shock, and I spoke under the pressure of too many emotions,’ he admitted on a slight growl, as with rising agitation he could feel them stirring once more.
What was it about this woman that could make him feel so much in such a short span of time? He drew in a breath, but it was like attempting to steady a ship being buffeted by the violent waves of an approaching storm.
‘The truth is there’s no way I could live happily not knowing my child. It would be impossible.’
‘So you’re saying you’ve changed your mind?’ Carrie surmised, with an enquiring arch of her eyebrow that managed to convey the depth of her disbelief.
Damon knew it was no less than he deserved.
‘Youdowant to be involved?’
‘Yes. I’m going to be involved,’ he asserted, holding her gaze and refusing to release it even as a treacherous heat stirred at the base of his stomach.
‘Okay,’ she said finally. ‘Good.’
Damon didn’t look too closely at the way her approval made him feel pounds lighter. ‘Anyway, that’s why I’m here. I thought we should talk again. Start the conversation over. Begin afresh.’
‘Yes. We should do that...’ With a nervous dip of her throat, she looked at her watch. ‘Erm... I don’t close up here for another few hours. But you can stay and have some coffee and cake—or I can meet you after?’
‘Do you have plans for dinner?’ Damon queried, the question catching him as unawares as it clearly did her. Because dinner had certainly not been part of his plan when he had decided to seek Carrie out in Santa Barbara.
But he did not want to conduct their conversation when she was working and they could be overheard or interrupted at any moment. It would be close to dinner time by the time she finished work, he argued inside his head, and, Carrie being pregnant, it was important she ate a decent meal. It had nothing to do with the way she was standing across from him, with her wide glowing eyes blinking up at him, making him long for a further opportunity to be near to her, to have the freedom to fix his gaze on her and watch her until his eyes were dry.
‘No, I don’t,’ she responded, shaking her head tentatively.
‘You do now.’
CHAPTER SIX
CARRIEWASNERVOUSas she arrived at the hotel where she’d agreed to meet Damon for dinner. He’d messaged her a short while earlier, saying he’d booked one of the resort’s luxurious private bungalows and arranged for dinner to be provided there, so she’d set off along the winding pathways through the colourful jungle gardens the resort was famous for. But with every step she took her pulse beat harder—too hard—in her veins.
She knew she should be happy that Damon had changed his mind, but all Carrie felt was troubled. Because how could she be sure he meant it? A day ago he’d declared the complexities of their situation insurmountable, so what had changed so quickly? And what was to stop him from changing his mind again tomorrow? Or in a year?
Carrie wanted to believe he was sincere, because she wanted her child to grow up with two loving parents, but she remembered all the other times in her life when men had spoken words with no real intent or emotion behind them. All the other times she’d trusted and been let down.
And it was not only her own heart she was responsible for now, but her child’s—she had to proceed with caution if she was to prevent history from repeating itself.
Drawing in a steadying breath, she knocked at the door of the bungalow. Damon answered it within seconds, flashing her a perfunctory smile and beckoning her in. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and several top buttons open, exposing his strong, hair-dusted forearms and a triangle of smooth gold chest, and that flash of skin had Carrie’s throat drying even more as she remembered the hot smoothness of his body, the feel of him beneath her tongue.
For the briefest of moments everything else she was feeling rolled away, leaving only that delicious, stomach-tightening hum of attraction.
But it was only a moment.
Because she couldn’t just forget the side of him she had seen yesterday. A side that was cold and rigid and selfish. All the things her father was.
‘Can I get you something to drink?’ he offered pleasantly, leading her along a corridor and into the body of the bungalow, then out through French doors to a red-tiled patio, where a table was already set for dinner with fine white china, crystal glasses and a vase of fresh-cut, short-stemmed pink and white roses.
‘Water is fine, thank you.’
‘The servers should be back shortly with the food. I hope it’s not a problem, us eating here instead of a restaurant? But I thought this way we’d have more privacy.’
‘No, it’s fine. And you’re right about the privacy factor. The restaurants are always booked to capacity.’
It was one less thing for her to worry about, at least—that they would be overheard and her secret exposed. At some point she knew there would be publicity—Damon’s public status would ensure that—but it was something she was doing her best not to think about.
‘You’re familiar with the resort, then?’ he asked, returning with their drinks.
