Then, feeling like the kid who’d once liked to sneak out and play knock-and-dash on neighbors’ doors, she tapped once. And then she dashed. Over the dunes and toward the beach.

  It wasn’t until she reached the sandy shore, panting for breath and laughing at herself for being such an idiot, that she realized something. Something that made her wonder if she’d just done something a whole lot more dangerous than silly.

  She’d been followed. A man stood watching her from the shadows of the dunes, a few yards behind her…and he wasn’t Damon.

  AS DAMON MADE his way back to his home-on-the road after a visit to Bella to get some aspirin for his headache, he ran into his cousin. Paulie was finishing up his nightly rounds and heading to his own camper. When he saw Damon, he gave him a curious look. “Didn’t think I’d see you until morning.” He wagged his brows. “Unless you, uh, had to bum some protection?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t play innocent. I saw your cutie with my own eyes.”

  Immediately glancing toward the line of quiet, darkened campers, he asked, “You mean Allie Cavanaugh?”

  “She the one from Pennsylvania, had you all tied up in knots for the past few weeks?”

  Yeah. That’d be the one. He nodded.

  “I led her to your door not ten minutes ago.”

  She was at his camper, waiting for him? Which meant…what, exactly? That she’d come to tell him off, to finish what they’d started? He had no idea. He only knew he was tired of fighting the attraction he’d been feeling for her since they’d met. Maybe it was time they stop fighting or making out and just do some talking about what they really wanted and what was happening between them.

  “I wasn’t there, I was visiting your wife.” Noting Paulie’s deep frown, he added, “For some aspirin.”

  Looking a little mollified, his cousin peered toward Damon’s camper. “I don’t see her outside. You still locking the place?”

  “After the biker-chick-from-hell incident in Jersey? Yeah.”

  “Maybe she gave up.”

  Damn. Maybe she had. He took a step toward it, half hoping he’d forgotten to lock the door and that Allie was waiting for him inside. Naked would be good. Better than armed, considering how he’d walked out on her a half hour ago. But he stopped abruptly when he heard an unexpected sound. “Did you hear that?”

  His cousin cocked his head. “Yeah. What was it?”

  They both fell silent, listening.

  Then the sound came again, from the direction of the beach. It was faint, almost indiscernible. The high-pitched keening might have been written off as a product of the wind. But Damon knew by the way every muscle in his body tensed with adrenaline that it wasn’t. It was a scream.

  “Someone’s in trouble,” he snapped, racing through the darkness toward the beach, Paulie keeping up with him step for step, despite his shorter stature.

  They tore through the sea grass and across the wind-battered crossover, pounding down the steps to the sand on the other side. The last of the carnival lights hadn’t gone off yet and the beach was awash with the reds, greens and golds of the Ferris wheel, plus the starry sky above. He could easily make out the waves, and scanned them, looking for the flailing arm of someone who might have gotten into trouble while taking a late-night swim.

  Then he heard Paulie mutter a foul word, and swung his head around, seeing a couple a few yards down the beach.

  There was no mistaking the figures for anything but a man and a woman wrapped in an embrace, and at first glance, they might have been assumed to be sharing a passionate moment. But the woman wasn’t crying out in pleasure, and she wasn’t twisting in passion. She was struggling. She was fighting.

  He didn’t think twice. Running the short distance to the couple, Damon took the man at a flying leap. The guy had been so intent on what he was doing, he obviously hadn’t heard Damon coming, so he put up absolutely no resistance.

  As the woman stumbled away, Damon and the attacker flew onto the sand, rolling over and over into the thorny scrub. He lifted a fist back to pound the man in the face, recognized who it was, and checked his swing. “Jonesy?” he choked out, shocked—but somehow not entirely surprised.

  “Get off,” the carny said, his eyes shifting crazily back and forth, like a cornered rabid animal. “Mind your own business. We were just having some fun.”

  Judging by the screams, Damon didn’t think the woman agreed. He looked over for confirmation—or denial—and his heart stopped. Because he recognized that brown hair, that soft face, the vulnerable mouth. And saw nothing but red.

  Mindless with rage, he let his fist fly, hearing the satisfying crunch of Jonesy’s nose, and maybe the snap of one or two of his own fingers. But he couldn’t bring himself to care, not even when blood from his own knuckles mingled with the blood pouring out of Jonesy’s face.

  The man howled in pain. “You hit me! I’ll sue!”

  “You miserable son of a bitch!” Grabbing the man by the collar, he hauled him to his feet, then drew his fist back again.

  Paulie grabbed it with both hands and held tight. “I’ll see to him. Go take care of the lady.”

  Noting the stricken look on Allie’s face—the tears, the red marks on her skin and what looked like blood on her neck—he felt his rage shift to concern. Giving Jonesy one last bone-rattling shake, he thrust him toward his cousin who, despite his shorter stature, was dangerous as hell, as only the dirtiest of fighters could be.

  Jonesy was moaning, but Damon couldn’t hear him. He was focused only on the woman who’d been in his arms a short time ago. Slowly walking to her, he held his hands out, making sure she didn’t feel threatened, not sure how bad things had gotten.

  Not that bad. It couldn’t have gone that far. Not in so short a time if she’d been at his trailer door ten minutes ago. Please let it not have gone too far. “Allie, honey?”

  She flew into his arms. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she whispered. Curling into him, she burrowed her face in the hollow where his neck met his shoulder. Keeping her arms tucked self-protectively against her body, her hands fisted below her chin, she almost bored her way into him. She shuddered twice, as if racked with cold, but said nothing more.

  Damon gently rubbed her back, his touch meant to soothe and comfort, to calm and to let her know it was over. She was safe.

  Finally, she drew in a slow, deep breath, and he felt her heart rate slow to a normal rhythm. “Okay now?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. He didn’t…”

  “Thank God.”

  “I fought, but the bastard had a knife.”

  “Are you hurt?” His stomach lurched. “The blood…”

  “It’s his. He nicked himself while cutting my blouse.”

  Damon started to let her go, his feet already turning around so he could go back and cut Jonesy’s nuts off with his own knife.

  She stopped him. “Don’t leave. Please.”

  It killed him that Paulie was the one gaining the satisfaction of beating the crap out of the scumbag who’d just tried to rape a woman—a woman Damon already considered his own. But he wasn’t about to leave her alone, not when she needed him.

  “What’s going on?” someone called.

  Glancing up, he saw several carnival workers and troupe members descending the wooden stairs. They were staring with avid curiosity from him—with Allie in his arms—to Paulie, who was now holding Jonesy in a death grip, one arm across his throat, the other hand tangled in a fistful of his greasy hair.

  The group’s strong man, a barrel-chested guy who doubled as a security guard on the road, lifted Paulie away from the would-be rapist. “I guess I don’t even need to know what happened here,” he said with a look of disgust at Jonesy.

  The others, including three women who worked in the sideshow, murmured their agreement. “Glad somebody finally nailed the slimy bastard,” one of them said.

  “Is the lady okay?” somebody asked. “We heard screams.”

  Allie murmured against his neck. Though he wanted nothing more than to keep her safe in his arms for hours, Damon slowly let her go. Clutching her torn blouse in front of her, she turned to the others and offered them a shaky smile. “Thank you all for charging to my rescue, but I’m fine. Really.” Glancing over at Jonesy, she added, “I was about to kill him, just so you know.”

  Damon didn’t doubt it. She sounded dead serious. He suspected that if Jonesy hadn’t had a knife, he would have been the one to come out bloody after a fight with this feisty young woman.

  After a quick discussion, three other women in the troupe lodged complaints against the carny. They felt safe coming forward as a united front, since his threats had kept them individually quiet before now. And, again as a group, they all decided to handle things their own way and not bring in the law.

  Damon, though he traveled with them, wasn’t entirely one of them. He was still a bit of an outsider. So he had no vote…nor did he quite understand what they meant to do. Frankly, that was probably just as well. He didn’t want to know. He just wanted to get Allie out of there, and take her someplace safe, someplace private.

  Finally, with two of the big workers taking Jonesy by the arms, they all shuffled away. Paulie was the last to leave, but not before offering Allie a sincere apology.

  “Thanks, but I don’t blame you for your employee’s actions.”

  “Maybe not, but I will make sure he never does it again.”

  Carny justice. Damon noted the steely look in his normally affable cousin’s eye. The two of them exchanged one long stare, then Paulie walked away, leaving Damon and Allie alone.

  Alone…and finally ready to stop playing games.

  Chapter 7

  “Come on,” Damon said once they were alone. “Let me get you safely back to your hotel.”

  Still shaken by her close call, Allie picked up her purse and sandals from where they’d landed on the beach during the struggle. She slid her arm around Damon’s waist as they started walking. They didn’t speak, both lost in thought, hearing only the soft crunch of their feet in the sand and the churn of the waves breaking on the shore. His arm draped across her shoulder, he kept her close beside him, as if afraid to let her go.

  With every quiet step, and the cool caress of the night breeze, she regained her calm. Her sense of security. Safety.

  She liked the idea of being safe. But she didn’t need to go to her hotel to feel that way. Since the moment Damon had come charging across the sand, tackling the pig who’d attacked her, she knew she’d be okay. “That’s my hotel,” she said, pointing to the lights of the closest building past the fairgrounds, which was still a good hike away. “Let’s just keep walking.”

  “You sure you’re up to it?”

  “I’m fine, really. He scared me but he didn’t really hurt me.” Rubbing her cheek against his cotton T-shirt, she murmured, “I was ready to kill him, you know, but I’m not sure I would have been able to. So I’m really glad you showed up.”

  “Paulie told me he’d seen you and then we both heard you scream.” He pulled her tighter against his side. “I didn’t stop to consider it at the time, but I think subconsciously I thought it could be you and I might have committed murder myself when I realized it was.”

  She was suddenly very thankful she’d left him the note, figuring it must have sent him out looking for her. If she hadn’t, he might still be locked in his camper, falling asleep, out of earshot of her screams. And she could be….

  She didn’t want to think about it. Not for one more second.

  A big part of her wanted to know what he thought about her explanation of why she’d stood him up, including his reaction to her baby. But the fact that he was here, close and protective, told her everything she had to know right at this moment. He’d obviously understood and wasn’t the kind of jerk who’d hear a woman had a child and instantly find her less attractive.

  She stopped walking, turning to look up at him, his handsome face shadowed and mysterious in the moonlight. “What’s happening between us, Damon?” Even to her own ears, the confusion in her voice was obvious.

  Why was she so crazy about a man she didn’t know very well? Why had he occupied her thoughts every day for three weeks? Why did something deep inside keep urging her to go after him, even after he’d so thoroughly rejected her?

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But you’re not the only one feeling it. I’ve been telling myself it’s just sex—the need to get you into bed.” Shaking his head, he added, “But when I saw you tonight—your shirt torn, the marks on you—hell, Allie, I haven’t felt that terrified about anything in a long time.”

  Behind them, the lights of the distant Ferris wheel finally went off, cloaking them in a more intimate darkness. They were far from the crossover now, and still far from her hotel, on a secluded stretch of beach. Completely alone but for a few nighttime sea birds crying out as they flew overhead.

  Lifting a hand to his cheek, she traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips. In this midnight-blue light, his eyes had gone from violet to almost purple and they glittered as he turned his face to press a kiss in the center of her palm. An open-mouthed kiss. It sent a rush of warmth up her arm.

  Dropping her shoes and purse, she snaked her other arm up and over his shoulders, tunneling her fingers in his silky black hair. She leaned into him, rose on her tiptoes and whispered, “Thank you.” Then she touched her lips to his, sweetly, underscoring her thanks.

  Not letting her go, he dropped his hands to her hips. Circling her waist, he gently stroked the small of her back as he licked her lips apart, then slid his tongue between them. She sighed, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, savoring the slow strokes as he explored her mouth.

  For all the crazy feelings she’d had about the man since she’d first seen his image on the side of a truck, Allie hadn’t expected that it would be pure tenderness and emotion that would finally bring them together. But it was. Without saying a word, without even ending the kiss, they slowly reached for each other’s clothes. He slid her torn blouse off her shoulders and Allie let it fall to the sand. She tugged his shirt free of his pants, pulling away from his kiss only long enough to push it up and off.

  Flattening her hands, Allie stroked Damon’s thick shoulders, then caressed her way down his hard chest, delighting in the textures of his body and the warmth of his skin. Continuing to press those crazy-sweet kisses on her lips, he let her explore every bit of him.

  He delicately felt his way from the sides of her neck down each of her arms, the tips of his fingers barely touching her, providing just enough pressure to drive her mad with the need for more. When he reached her hands, he twined her fingers in his. “You’re sure you’re all right?” he murmured as he moved his mouth to her cheek, then her jaw.

  She shivered in delight at the feel of his tongue on her pulse point. “I’m fine. I want this. I am ready for this.”

  “Me, too.”

  Then he moved lower, kissing his way down her throat, to its hollow, where he stopped to take a deep breath, as if inhaling her very essence. Allie arched back, offering herself to him. When he lowered his mouth to the curves of her breasts, only half-covered by a sexy, lacy bra, she felt her legs go weak.

  He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and tilted her back, kissing, tasting his way across both breasts. When he covered one taut nipple with his mouth and sucked it through the fabric, she groaned. “Please, Damon, I need more.”

  He didn’t pull away, merely reached up and unclasped her bra with one hand, then tugged it down. “Beautiful,” he mumbled as he pulled away to look at her breasts in the moonlight. Then he filled his hands with them, plumped one toward his mouth and covered her nipple again. Licking, sucking, nibbling a little until Allie was almost crying at how good it felt.

  As if knowing she couldn’t take much more, he dropped to his knees, tasting his way down her stomach, not caring about the tiny bulge she’d never been able to get rid of after her pregnancy.

  Without even pausing, he pulled her filmy, elastic-waist skirt down, letting it pool at her feet, and kept right on tasting. He tugged at the hem of her tiny panties with his teeth. As he had with the bra, he tormented her, licking her through the fabric. But he couldn’t manage it for long. She felt the tension in his shoulders and knew he needed more. Now.

  So did she. Pushing the panties down, she thrust away her lingering embarrassment. She hadn’t experienced anything this intimate before. But she wanted it. Badly.

  Damon took hold of her bare hips, squeezing her butt, then tilting her closer to his waiting mouth. She tensed the tiniest bit, then all tension slid away, and she became a boneless heap of sensation as he licked clit. “Oh, my,” she whispered, overwhelmed by the pleasure of it. “I never imagined…never knew…”

  He paused only long enough to murmur, “Then your other lovers were imbeciles.”

  Ha. If only he knew that there’d been only one. And he’d been worse than an imbecile; he’d been a rotten bastard.

  But Damon’s incredible mouth drove those thoughts away along with any others. He toyed with her until she trembled, then licked lower, tasting the wet folds of her sex. Dipping in, teasing her, driving her wild.

  She gasped. “I can’t…”

  “Yeah. You can.”

  Sliding a hand around between her thighs, he reached up, readying her with the tips of his fingers, then plunging one into her. Her legs did give out then. Damon caught her as she came down, immediately pushing her onto her back on the ground. As if he couldn’t stand the brief interruption, he immediately returned to what he’d been doing, free now to use both hands—and his mouth—to pleasure her fully.

  Allie hardly felt the rough sand on her back, didn’t process the sound of the waves crashing near their feet, barely saw the stars shining brilliantly above her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but lie there as he devoured her like a starving man at a banquet. Until finally all the sensations came together, and her senses took in every bit of it—the stars, the sand, the lapping waves, the unbelievable ecstasy of his mouth—and she shook into a shattering climax.