“Oh, my God.”

  She hadn’t even finished her high-pitched moan before he was there, catching it in his mouth. It was strange—tasting herself on his lips—but still so incredibly erotic, she grabbed his hair and held him so she could thrust her tongue against his.

  Reaching down, she unfastened his pants, pushing them over his lean hips. She stroked his taut butt, arching up in delight at the feel of his warm skin between her thighs.

  He kicked out of the rest of his clothes, and when he moved over her again, she could feel his erection—hot, huge—pressed against her belly. She started shaking again. In pure, unadulterated want.

  “Tell me you’re on the pill,” he muttered, his body tensing.

  She shook her head, watching his eyes close and his jaw clench in frustration. “But I came prepared, anyway,” she said with an impish laugh. She reached for her small purse, which lay near her clothes and sandals, and grabbed a condom from it.

  Damon muttered something that sounded like a grateful prayer, then took it from her hands and tore it open, his hunger and need rolling off him in almost tangible waves.

  Allie wanted to touch him, wanted to feel that throbbing heat, so she said, “Let me help you.”

  He looked into her eyes and must have seen the appreciation and curiosity there. Rolling onto his side, he guided her hand until they were both touching the tip of his erection. Though shaking, Allie was able to roll the rubber down, her fingers lingering, her touch obviously driving him wild.

  “Allie,” he warned when she slid her hand lower, to the base of his shaft…and beyond. When she cupped his balls, toying with him in his most vulnerable spot, he let out a guttural groan. “If you don’t want me coming right in your hand, you’d better let me set the pace,” he said. He immediately pushed her onto her back, settling again between her thighs.

  “Set the pace, take control, do whatever you want,” she said, now nearly desperate to feel all that rock-hard flesh buried inside her. “Just do it now, Damon, please.”

  He didn’t hesitate, driving in, driving hard, driving deep. He stretched her, filled her completely. And it was such a relief, after so much waiting, she wanted to shout out loud. So she did. She shouted, she groaned, and when he began thrusting, short and quick, then long and so deep she thought she’d split in half, she actually screamed.

  “You’re gonna have the troupe down here again,” he said between choppy breaths. Then he covered her mouth with his, kissing her deeply to shut her up, which made her laugh against his lips. Twining her arms around his shoulders, she arched up to meet every slow, deliberate thrust, taking all he could give her and demanding more.

  Damon tried to keep it that slow, and at first, she let him, loving the lethargy and the sweetness of it. But soon her body caught the pounding rhythm of the waves. The tide was coming in, and suddenly the water lapped over their feet. Warm, silky…splashing a little bit higher with each subsequent wave. It soothed their hot skin, as did the ocean breeze. The caress of the water and the stroke of the wind enhanced the pleasure.

  “Allie?” Damon finally said, his voice throaty and strained.

  “Yes?”

  He stopped moving, buried to the hilt inside her. Bracing himself on one arm, he cupped her face in his other hand. “It was right. Whatever we’ve been feeling, whatever’s been driving us…this was meant to happen.”

  He didn’t have to say another word, she understood completely. “I know.”

  Then they couldn’t speak anymore. They could only stroke and caress, kiss and touch, give and take. And soon, when the water had reached their thighs and Allie had almost gotten dizzy from staring at the stars, feeling as if she were climbing toward them, Damon cried out his release, bringing her with him as he flew.

  DAMON DIDN’T KNOW how long they stayed on the beach. After the first time they had sex, they moved a little farther from the surf, which had gone from cooling off their naked bodies to chilling them. But they remained curled together on the dry sand for a long time. They didn’t talk much at first, just exchanged soft, slow kisses and easy strokes. He couldn’t stop touching her, even after the initial frenzy was spent. Running his hand over her arms, her throat, her breasts, her stomach, he marveled at the texture of her skin. She was soft everywhere, not skinny, not plump, but beautifully rounded and so damned feminine she took his breath away. The moonlight caught the golden highlights in her brown hair, and he ran his fingers through it, plucking out the sand, laughing softly when she complained he was pulling it.

  Eventually they started to talk. Mostly about what had just happened, but also a bit about their romantic pasts. When he found out he was only her second lover, he was pretty surprised. And when he found out her first lover had been a ruthless bastard who’d seduced her just to get back at her older sister, who’d dumped him, he wanted to hurt the man.

  Instead, he focused on doing sweet things to her, as if he could erase those bad memories. They made love again—slow and easy—with her riding him, taking whatever she wanted. She wanted a lot. He was happy to lie beneath her, looking up at her beautiful, full breasts and her lovely face framed by moonlight.

  Afterward she’d collapsed on his chest. He took a couple of deep breaths and muttered, “I’m so glad I ended up in Trouble.”

  “Pun intended?” she asked, sounding just as breathless.

  “Yeah. Strange name.”

  “Strange place.”

  She rolled off him and tucked herself against his side. Damon still didn’t have the energy to move a muscle. “Why do you stay?” he asked, wondering—as crazy as it seemed since they’d known each other only a few weeks—if she would consider leaving Trouble. Say, perhaps, for Florida.

  “It’s become my home in the past year,” she said with a yawn. “The small town I always wanted, without the criticism and constant judging of the one I grew up in.”

  “What brought you there?”

  “My sister. I’d just been officially ‘thrown out’ of the family by my grandfather and was living with Sabrina. When she went to Trouble on business, I got bored and followed her. I never left.”

  He wasn’t sure where to start—on the sister, Trouble or the thrown-out-of-the-family part. Allie’s tone was casual. There was probably no situation more open to honesty than one such as this, when they were completely exposed and vulnerable. And sated. So he went for the tough part. “Your family disowned you?”

  “Oh, yeah. My grandfather hated that Sabrina got out from under his thumb. When I did, too, just a couple of years later, he threw a fit. And the fact that I got myself into way more trouble than anyone ever expected,” she added, suddenly sounding sarcastic, “was the last straw. He disowned me. The rest of the family and everyone else in town followed suit.”

  Damon squeezed her shoulders, stunned at how cruel her family could have been to someone so adorable. He was, of course, curious about what kind of trouble she’d gotten herself into, but figured if she wanted him to know, she’d have said so. Then he remembered something she’d said on the day of their walk in Trouble. “He’s a minister, right? Your grandfather?”

  She nodded.

  “Whatever happened to love thy neighbor?”

  “In Bridgerton, Ohio, people don’t ask, ‘What would Jesus do?’ they ask, ‘What would Reverend Caleb Tucker do?’ And what he did was call me a whore and kick me to the curb.”

  “Unbelievable.” She’d had one lover—had been taken advantage of by a ruthless pig—and had lost her family because of it. The woman was about as far from a whore as he was from a real circus performer. His body clenched and tight with anger, he forced himself to relax, not wanting her to stop opening up to him.

  “My mother has finally come around, though. She took my younger sister and brother and moved out of his house. She even came to Sabrina’s wedding to Mortimer’s grandson last Christmas.”

  “Mortimer…that’s your boss?”

  “Yes. The one sitting beside me during your show tonight.”

  He laughed softly, certain now, after what they’d shared, that she hadn’t been making an excuse for her presence here. “You really came here on a business trip, didn’t you?”

  She tilted her head back and gave him an indignant look. “I told you I did.”

  “Come on, you gotta admit, it’s pretty coincidental.”

  “Tell me about it.” Nibbling her lip, she added, “Mortimer’s a big-time meddler and matchmaker. I don’t suppose it’s impossible that he heard something about my involvement with a hottie Roma King and found out where you’d be.”

  “Well, remind me to thank him.”

  She smiled broadly, obviously pleased, and he wondered again at her life, that she’d be so happy at a little compliment. But she changed the subject on him, groaning about the state of her hair, and her clothes, so he couldn’t press her on it.

  Knowing it had to be two in the morning, he reluctantly helped her up and scoured the beach for their things, watching with a smile as she tried to brush the sand off her body and shimmy into her underclothes.

  “This is impossible,” she said, staring at the blouse. “I can’t go walking through the hotel lobby in this.”

  He grabbed his T-shirt and helped her put it on. “Doesn’t match, but it’ll keep anyone from leering at you.”

  A half hour later, they reached Allie’s hotel, and he walked her into the lobby. Shirtless, yes, but after what had happened to her tonight, he was taking no chances.

  “You’re not going to walk all the way back to the carnival grounds, are you?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer at first, waiting to see if she was suggesting she just stay with him. She didn’t, which was probably just as well. If she was on a business trip with her boss, the last thing she’d want was to bring a man to her hotel room. But he couldn’t help feeling a stab of disappointment, already missing the way she’d felt in his arms out on the beach. “I’ll be fine. It’s not that far,” he murmured. Then he brushed his lips against hers. “Spend the day with me tomorrow. I mean…today.”

  “You have to work.”

  “Spend part of the day with me tomorrow.”

  “I have to work,” she said. “Mortimer is meeting with a condo developer, and I need to be available for him. But I think I could manage another visit to the fair in the evening, Mr. Big Bad Carny Man.”

  Carny Man. She still believed him to be a traveling performer, living in a camper. Well, at least no one could accuse her of wanting him for his money.

  He’d tell her everything tomorrow. Get it all out in the open—his past, why he’d left his job. How what had happened had changed his views about himself—his life, his future.

  If he was getting involved with the woman, she deserved to know where he stood on the issue of children. No, he didn’t want to scare her off, but she ought to know right up front that he couldn’t see himself getting married and having kids. Not anytime soon, at least.

  But Allie was young, only twenty-two. If things did go the way he thought they might, given the depth of his feelings for her already, they’d have time to deal with that in the future.

  Plenty of time. Maybe he’d change…someday. Maybe his fear of failing another child would gradually ease, allowing his heart to open up again. But in case it didn’t, Allie deserved to know up front.

  As he walked off down the beach toward the fair-grounds, Damon couldn’t help thinking of his grandmother. Her stories of soul mates and love at first sight.

  He had the feeling that wherever she was, she knew what was happening. And was laughing.

  Chapter 8

  THE NEXT MORNING, Allie got up early, somehow not at all sleepy despite her late night. She felt energized, excited and very happy. It seemed impossible to believe that last night had really happened—that she’d been in the arms of her dream man who’d been both incredibly hot and beautifully romantic.

  “You’re going to like him, baby-cakes,” she said to her son as she dressed him for the beach. His bathing suit hung to his dimpled knees like a pair of surfer’s board shorts, and she laughed in delight when she looked at him. As always.

  A tiny part of her wondered why Damon hadn’t seemed more interested in Hank—why he hadn’t even asked her his name or anything about him. She could only figure one thing—last night had been a big step, introducing Hank into the equation would be another one. That was all.

  “You ready to go play in the waves, like we did yesterday?”

  As if knowing what she meant, Hank clapped his pudgy hands together, then tried to roll away.

  “Huh, uh. More lotion,” she said, grabbing him before he could struggle to his feet and toddle away. He’d started walking really early and had become one motoring little guy over the past couple of weeks. As Miss Emily had discovered the night of the soap incident.

  She covered him with a thick coating of the highest SPF lotion the hotel carried, then grabbed a diaper bag and headed for the beach. She had to work later, which was okay since she couldn’t keep Hank out in the blazing sun too long, anyway.

  He toddled in the sand—got it in his diaper, his hair, his mouth. Chased a crab. Barreled through another kid’s sandcastle, leaving Allie to apologize to the crying little girl, all the while chuckling over her bruiser of a son.

  God, she loved him. It overwhelmed her, sometimes, how much she loved him. And she knew that Damon would love him, too.

  She kept telling herself that, throughout the day, but as the hours wore on, the doubts crept in. Nodding her way through the business meetings, where she took notes for Mortimer, she couldn’t help going back to the same subject. Why hadn’t Damon even mentioned her baby? Okay, so he didn’t want to talk about it. He’d wanted only to take care of her after the attack, then to make passionate love to her. Another man’s baby wouldn’t be high on the conversation list for either of those situations.

  But afterward, when she’d told him about Peter, that would have been the perfect moment for him to ask about what she’d revealed in her note—that she had a baby. Yet…nothing.

  “He had to have found the note, right?” she kept asking herself as she finished feeding Hank in the room that night, then got him ready for bed. As usual, once his tummy was full, his eyes started to drift closed, and by seven o’clock, he was sound asleep in his portable crib. Miss Emily, the first friend Allie had made on her arrival in Trouble, was right there watching him.

  “You’re sure you don’t mind me going out again?” Allie asked doubtfully. She’d spent more evenings out in the past few weeks than she had in the entire time since Hank’s birth.

  “Go, go, go,” Emily said. “Go find your sexy man.”

  Allie’s jaw dropped.

  The curly-haired woman, whose round face exuded warmth, chuckled. “Oh, everyone knows. You haven’t figured out that you were dragged here on a matchmaking mission by your employer?”

  “I knew it!” she snapped, not knowing whether to laugh or groan. “I’m going to have a talk with that old man.”

  But not now. Now she was heading over to the fairgrounds to enjoy whatever time she had with Damon Cole.

  She found him easily, showing up just as his first show was starting. Obviously, he’d left word because the carny at the entrance winked, not asking for a ticket when she arrived. Seeing the pleasure on Damon’s face when he spotted her would have made paying for one worthwhile, though.

  Allie remained in the back, standing behind the audience. She’d seen Damon do this show several times now, but his natural abilities as a performer continued to impress her. He wasn’t a showman—there was no grandstanding, no overacting. He simply exuded a quiet confidence, a sense of calm, that made everyone in the room trust him. It was an interesting talent for someone who traveled the road, and she wondered where he’d gotten it.

  After the show, when they were alone, she asked him.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said. “We should probably talk about that.”

  Allie wondered if there was a lot he didn’t know about her, too. But she still hadn’t figured out a way to find out if he had actually read her note, short of asking him straight out. If he hadn’t, it would be a good opening to the whole I-have-a-baby conversation. If he had, it might force them into a conversation he wasn’t ready for yet, since he hadn’t brought it up. So she kept her mouth shut.

  After he’d changed out of his pirate’ish shirt, looking just as delicious as he had when doing it the previous night, he hopped off the stage. “What do you want to do?”

  “Hmm.” Allie’s mouth curved up in a Cheshire cat grin.

  “I have another show in an hour.”

  “I think the second time took less than an hour last night.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Maybe your town was right, and you are a sex fiend.”

  “You started it.”

  “And I finished it.”

  “So finish it again.”

  He tugged her into his arms, dropping a quick kiss on her mouth. “Eleven o’clock. My camper. I’ll finish it so many times you won’t even be able to walk back to the hotel tonight.”

  Allie stumbled a little at the very thought. He kept his arm around her, leading her out into the fair. “You know,” she said, “I haven’t ridden a single ride. Not here, and not in Trouble.”

  He tugged her toward the Ferris wheel. “Well, let’s go.”

  “Not that one. I don’t do heights.”

  “Oh, come on, I won’t let you fall.”

  She knew that already. “Huh uh. Nope.”

  “I’ll buy you some cotton candy…”

  “I told you the last time I ate cotton candy, I got sick.”

  “It’s not for you to eat,” he murmured. In a growly whisper, he added, “It’s for you to wear…and me to eat.”