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I go through the turnstile, and I see him immediately, leaning against one of the posts not far away. He’s hard to miss—tall, broad-shouldered, and incredibly good-looking, enough to draw the glances of most of the women and even some of the men passing nearby. He has a cocky insouciance I adore, as if he doesn’t give a hoot what anyone else thinks of him. And he always looks a million dollars, with his sharp haircut and expensive clothes. Today he’s wearing tight dark jeans and, as it’s cold, a dark-gray sweater over a white shirt. Oh man. I could put him on a cracker and crunch him up.
He’s already seen me, and he smiles as I run up to him, then laughs as I jump up into his arms.
“Ma belle,” he says, swinging me around before lowering me to the ground and kissing me.
“Damon.” I hug him tightly. “Oh my God, I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too, baby girl.” His deep voice murmurs in my ear, sending a shiver through me. He smells amazing. Oh, this man… please, God, tell me he’s all mine for the rest of eternity!
“Let’s get your case,” he says, “and then we’ll head off.” He takes my hand and leads me over to baggage claim.
I chat away while we wait for my case to appear, telling him about the flight. He listens with a smile, but he’s quiet, and he seems thoughtful and a tad… reserved? Maybe I’m imagining it. I’m on overdrive, and I can feel myself gabbling a bit, especially now I’ve got it in my head that he has something on his mind.
“You okay?” I ask as we go out of the airport.
He nods and puts his arm around me, pulling my case for me. “Yeah, fine. Look, I know you said you wanted me to drop you off at your house so you can unpack, but I wondered whether you’d come to my place first?”
“Can’t wait to get your hands on me?” I tease.
He smiles. “Obviously.” It doesn’t reach his eyes, though.
Puzzled, I don’t say anything as we cross to the F-type in the car park. He puts the case in the back, we slide inside and buckle ourselves in, and he heads out into the traffic.
“So come on,” he says, “tell me how you’ve been. How did your last day go?” My new friends held a party for me last night, so we didn’t get a chance to chat.
As he heads through the city to the suburb of Brooklyn, where he lives, I tell him about the party, and chat away for a while about the work I’ve been doing. He listens, asking questions occasionally, but he’s definitely quieter than usual. He gave me a huge hug and kiss at the airport, so I don’t think he’s about to break up with me or anything. But something’s bothering him.
And then it occurs to me. Mum would have told Alex, and I bet he’s let it slip.
As we pass the Prince of Wales Park and turn onto his road, I say, “You know about the job offer, don’t you?”
He doesn’t reply. He slows the car, navigating a roundabout, takes the turning left, and heads toward his house. After opening the garage door, he slots the Jag inside and turns off the engine.
He glances across at me. “Yeah,” he says.
“Alex?”
“Yeah.”
I roll my eyes, feeling a surge of frustration. My brother can be such a knob sometimes.
Damon unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out. I do the same, then stop. My brain can’t catch up. I watch him unlock the door and go into the house, and scramble to get out and follow him.
“Hey,” I say, closing the door behind me and following him into the kitchen. “When did you speak to Alex?”
“Last weekend.” He opens the fridge. “Would you like a drink of anything?”
“No, thank you. How did I come up in the conversation? Were you calling him about work?”
He closes the fridge door. Then he leans back against the counter and folds his arms. “No. He turned up here on Sunday afternoon.”
“At the house?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” I whisper. But I can guess. “He knows about us, doesn’t he?”
Damon nods.
