Her legs wobbled again. “You’re so bad.” And irresistible.

  Following him onto the Ferris wheel, she tried to remain focused only on the warmth of him sitting beside her in the bucket seat. Not on the sky into which they were climbing—or the ground where she would get smashed like a bug if they fell.

  He obviously sensed her nervousness. “Okay. What should we do while we’re going around?”

  She dropped her hand on his lap.

  “I don’t think my cousin would be too happy if one of his featured players gets arrested for public indecency,” he said, laughing, yet also groaning as her hand crept higher.

  “You got me up here, wicked man. I thought you traveling types lived for danger.”

  Damon’s smile slowly faded. “Allie, there’s something I should tell you right now. I’m not what you think I am.”

  “A hot, amazing man who saved me last night and then made love to me the way every woman dreams of being made love to?”

  He wasn’t distracted. “I’m not really a carnival performer.”

  “You do a good impersonation of one.”

  “I mean,” he explained, shaking his head in reluctant amusement, “I’m not a traveling mesmerist. I’m not a professional carny. I don’t live on the road. This summer is the first time I’ve ever traveled with Slone Brothers, and I only did it because I needed to escape my real life for a little while.”

  Allie carefully shifted in the seat to face him. “Explain.”

  And he did. Speaking slowly at first, gazing out at the ocean, almost lost in his own thoughts, he told her.

  The fact that Damon was a professional therapist came as no surprise, given his people skills. But when he told her why he’d quit his job—what had driven him to take on this carnival life—she felt tears prick her eyes and understood his haunted look.

  “How old is he…the little boy?”

  “Four.”

  “He’s okay now?”

  Damon’s mouth tightened. “He’ll probably never be able to run and keep up with other kids his age; his legs took the brunt of the abuse. But at least he survived.”

  She closed her eyes briefly, still not fully able to comprehend the horror of it. “And the courts gave him back to his parents, after everything you did to keep him away from them?”

  Still not looking at her, Damon nodded. “Yeah. Despite the medical records—the trips to the E.R., the photos of the bruises and X rays of the broken bones—they gave him back.” His voice broke. “I had sat by that little boy’s hospital bed and promised him nobody would ever hurt him again. And not six months later, after he’d finally found security in a safe foster home, some judge decided the sanctity of the family took precedence over the child’s own welfare.” Shaking his head in disgust, he added, “The parents had gotten off drugs and alcohol. They played nice in court. The judge was sure everything would be fine.”

  “You knew it wouldn’t.”

  “Hell, yes, I knew it wouldn’t,” he said, his mood shifting and anger underscoring his every word. “I knew them and it wasn’t drugs that drove them, it was pure meanness. They were bad, for themselves, for society. Especially bad for their little boy.”

  “I can’t imagine how hopeless you felt.”

  “Hopeless. Helpless. No matter how much I fought it, short of kidnapping him myself there was nothing I could do.”

  She seriously suspected he wished he had. “How long after they got him back did it happen?”

  “Three weeks. As his caseworker, I was the one they called when the mother finally took him to the E.R. for treatment. The police got her to admit her husband had lost his temper over Tyler spilling a glass of juice, and she’d kept him hidden at home until his legs started to turn green.” His body hard, taut as a wire, he shook his head in disgust. “A damn glass of juice.”

  He fell silent, as did Allie. She was crying now, unable to picture that poor child without immediately picturing Hank.

  The Ferris wheel paused occasionally to let people on and off, but not them. The operator obviously knew Damon and allowed them to go round and round, until Allie felt her tears finally dry, and the tense rage slowly ease out of Damon’s body.

  “What will you do at the end of the summer?” she asked softly, wanting to know if he was getting over what had happened.

  “I don’t know. I won’t go back to work for DCF, that’s for sure. Not even sure I’ll return to Florida.” Leaning his head back on the headrest and staring up at the stars, he murmured, “Is Pennsylvania a lot like Indiana in the winter?”

  Her heart tumbled, knowing what he meant. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I guess it is.”

  He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. They were both thinking the same thing—that as crazy as it sounded after such a short time, they were involved in something big here. Something that might involve a future.

  “There’s one more thing I have to say,” he said, clearing his throat. Lifting his head, he met her stare, his gaze unflinching. “I know how early this is and that I probably have no business even going here so soon, but I want to get this out in the open now. Because it might be a make-or-break thing.”

  She held her breath, wondering what on earth there could be left to say, and how it could possibly be that bad considering what he’d just revealed. When he spoke, however, she understood.

  And it wasn’t just bad. It was the worst thing he could ever have said to her.

  “After what happened, I don’t ever see myself being able to get close to another child again. I can’t handle it, the guilt, the fear of failing another helpless little person.”

  Her heart stopped. Even though they’d been on the Ferris wheel forever, she just now started to feel queasy.

  “I’m falling for you, and if it wouldn’t terrify you and make you think I’m a wacko, I’d admit that I think I’m falling in love with you,” Damon said, so matter of factly. So seriously she couldn’t even enjoy the little thrill his words gave her.

  Any thrill she might have felt dissipated in the sea breeze when he finished. “I can see a future with you. Which is why I have to tell you now…I don’t ever want children.”

  LATER THAT NIGHT, back on stage for his second performance, Damon had a hard time keeping his mind on what he was doing. He couldn’t stop thinking of Allie—the look on her face when they’d talked about his past life. The silence that had descended when he told her how he felt about children.

  He didn’t regret telling her. She was a young woman and deserved to know whether a man she was getting involved with wanted the same things she wanted. To be honest, he didn’t know what she wanted. Because she hadn’t said much. After the Ferris wheel had gone around twice more, she’d simply murmured, “Thank you for being honest with me.” Then something strange. “I guess that answers my question about the note.”

  But before he could ask her about it, the ride operator was stopping them. A quick glance at his watch confirmed Damon only had a few minutes to get over to his tent and change before the late performance. Promising Allie they’d talk more later that night in his trailer, he went back to work.

  She didn’t come to the show, which made him nervous as hell. So nervous that when it was over, he left with the audience, scanning the crowd outside for her. She wasn’t there either.

  “You looking for your friend?” a passing worker asked.

  Damon nodded.

  “She went that way.” The man pointed toward the line of campers and Damon breathed a quick sigh of relief.

  She hadn’t left. She was just meeting him where he said he planned to take her at eleven o’clock. Still, he didn’t shake off all of his concern until he walked past the last of the rides and concession stands and saw her standing outside his place.

  “You had me scared for a minute there,” he murmured when he reached her side. “I thought you’d run out on me.”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that to you again, not without letting you know why. I promise.”

  Unlocking the door, he helped her up the metal step into the old camper. It had been through a lot of years on the road and the only reason he felt comfortable bringing Allie here was because he’d replaced the mattress when he’d taken it over.

  Once inside, rather than looking around the place, Allie stopped and looked at the floor.

  “What?”

  “I left you a note, last night, before I went down to the beach. I slipped it through your door.”

  Damon’s eyes widened. “After our fight?”

  “Yes. I wanted to apologize. To explain.”

  She’d tried to reach him. Again. Even after the way he’d left her in his tent. “You’re a strong woman.”

  “Not strong enough,” she whispered. Then, her gaze shifted to the floor mat just inside the door. She bent down and retrieved a small, white piece of paper, which was sticking out from the edge of it. “I found it.”

  “Still want me to read it?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she balled it up and shoved it in her purse, which she then dropped to the floor. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged his face to hers. “I want you, Damon. Now.” She seemed desperate, kissing him hungrily, reaching for the buttons of his shirt and almost ripping it as she unfastened them.

  Last night had been sweetly passionate. This was frenzied. Wild. Allie’s fingers raced over him, touching him everywhere. Where her hands went, her mouth followed, tasting, devouring.

  He didn’t even have time to get her to the bed before she was on her knees, tugging his pants open and freeing his engorged cock. Before he could even prepare for it, her mouth was on him, sucking deeply, driving him into madness until he had to clutch the door frame.

  He gave himself over to it for a few minutes but knew things would be over much too fast if he didn’t stop her now. So he tangled his hands in her hair and pushed her head away. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, her lips wet and parted, and he couldn’t stand not tasting them. He dropped down in front of her, covering her mouth with his, then pushing her onto her back.

  “Now, Damon, please,” she urged, still frenzied as she lifted her skirt and pushed her panties off, not even bothering with the rest of her clothes. “Take me now.”

  He wanted to do so much more but wanted to be inside her now more than he wanted to live to see the sun rise. Her feverish demand only ratcheted up his own need to lose himself inside her.

  Testing her and finding her drenched with readiness, he grabbed a condom from his pocket and covered himself. Then he thrust into her, sinking into her heat, feeling her wring every bit of pleasure from him she could.

  They thrust and pounded. She scratched him, bit him. And he loved every minute of it. knew

  Judging by her loud moans, so did she.

  “Oh God, I’m coming,” she said as she arched to press her clit even harder against his pelvic bone. He’d been intentionally dragging against that beautiful spot, wanting her to come while he was inside her tight pussy. When she let out a little scream, and he felt her walls trembling against him deep inside, he knew she had. With one more hard thrust, he joined her in completion.

  As they gasped to regain their breath, and their sanity, Damon tugged her into his arms and stood. Carrying her to his bed, he dropped her onto it, then climbed in with her, curling his arm possessively around her waist. “More. Soon.”

  She didn’t reply, just kissed his jaw and ran her hand over his chest as if she were memorizing his body. And that’s how he fell asleep—with the feel of her hand, the brush of her lips.

  He dozed briefly, for minutes, an hour at most. When he opened his eyes, he found himself alone in the bed. Beside him, on the pillow, was a small, dirty piece of paper, crumpled and torn. He instantly knew what it was. Her note. The one she said she’d left for him. Something told him he didn’t want to read it.

  “Allie?” he called, not believing she’d left without waking him. She had to be in the tiny bathroom of the camper. Had to be.

  He was greeted with nothing but silence. So much for promises that she’d never again leave without telling him why.

  Left with no other option, he reached for the note. As he read the few words, his heart pounded and his vision swam, things becoming brutally clear.

  “Oh, my God,” he whispered, groaning as he thought of everything he’d said to her a few hours ago on the Ferris wheel. He’d crushed her—pushed her away without even realizing it.

  She’d kept her promise. She’d explained to him why she was leaving. He knew where she’d gone. He knew why she’d gone.

  And he knew one more thing…he couldn’t go after her.

  Chapter 9

  One month later

  “YOU’RE SURE YOU won’t change your mind and stay?”

  Allie glanced up at Mortimer, who’d popped his head into the small office she used when working at his enormous house. He’d invited her to stay for dinner, since one of his grandsons—the youngest one, the sexy New York cop—was coming into town. Allie had met the guy last year at Sabrina’s wedding and, like every other woman there, had melted over the groom’s two brothers. Especially Mike, the gruff cop, who looked as if he’d rather be beating up bad guys than wearing a tux.

  She wasn’t swooning over other guys now, though. She greatly feared she’d been ruined for life, having found the man who was perfect for her in every way but one.

  He didn’t want her child.

  “No, thanks. I really just want to get home to the baby. He’s cutting another tooth, and he was very cranky last night. I’m sure Miss Emily’s had her hands full today.”

  “I doubt she minds, my dear,” Mortimer said as he entered the office, closing the door behind him. He watched her, remaining silent, which wasn’t like him at all, since the man was usually very talkative, telling stories of his adventures if there was nothing else to talk about.

  “Is there something else you need?”

  He cleared his throat. “Your forgiveness.”

  “What on Earth for?”

  His hands clasped behind his back, he paced the room. “For pushing you at someone who hurt you,” he finally admitted.

  She and Mortimer had already talked about his matchmaking efforts. He had, after all, been the one in whose arms she’d cried that night after she’d left Damon sleeping in his trailer.

  As the weeks had gone by, she’d thought more and more about that last night. She’d been frenzied and selfish, desperately taking whatever she could get from him sexually. Already mourning what she knew would happen, she’d been determined to capture one more moment in his arms before she walked away from him for good.

  Maybe she’d been a coward to just leave the note, rather than telling him herself. But it wasn’t cowardice or nervousness that had made her do it. It had been the certainty of his reaction. She knew what she’d see in his face the moment she told Damon she had a son—disbelief, anger and, ultimately, rejection. And she couldn’t bear to witness those awful feelings, not in his eyes. Not when they were caused by his hearing about her perfect, beautiful little boy.

  Knowing her original note to him would be all the explanation he needed about why she’d left, she’d slipped away while he slept, crying with every step she took. She had no doubt he’d gotten the note this time. His silence had confirmed it.

  “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.