He’d never thought much about having kids. Jess had never wanted children, and since he’d never spent a lot of time around them himself, it hadn’t seemed like such a big deal. Besides, they had been young, just in their twenties, and he’d thought maybe later Jess would change her mind and they would talk about it. He would have been happy either way, he’d figured, but had always kind of secretly hoped Jess would go for kids eventually.
There were good memories from his childhood, a lot of good memories, and he had wanted to repeat that.
But then Jessica had been murdered, and there had been no thought to anything but getting through one long, painful day at a time. Kids became unfathomable. An impossibility. An alien concept in his frozen, hard, minimalist existence.
But for a man who had spent three years clamping down on every emotion, his seemed to have all burst out in one great greedy rush, a tidal wave of want and desire crashing over him.
He wanted Mandy. He wanted her baby. He wanted to get over his past and be given the chance to live again, a real life, with love and laughter and someone to share his home.
Was he ready? No, he was sure he wasn’t ready. He was sure that he was going to make mistakes, sure that he was going to smother Mandy with his needs and wants and neuroticisms. Sure that the thought of calling another woman his wife again would send him into a cold sweat. Sure that it was too easy to expect everything to be handed to him all neat and tidy and wrapped with a bow.
Mandy came back, pale but composed. Their food was still MIA.
"Why don’t I just get the food to go?" This wasn’t really the place to say what either of them needed to say.
"That’s a good idea. How close are we to your place?"
Damien gestured to the waitress. "Just a block." That had been the reason he’d chosen this restaurant. He’d been hoping to entice her home with him, where he had a nice large bed, air-conditioning, and thick walls that muffled any screaming in pleasure she might be inclined to do.
"Perfect."
He handed his credit card to the waitress, who promised to expedite their departure when he explained Mandy wasn’t feeling good.
Mandy touched her stomach. "Oh, that was weird. She knew I was pregnant, didn’t she? People look at me and see a pregnant woman." Her cheeks pinkened.
Damien wasn’t sure what the correct response was to that, so he just nodded. Mandy took a sip of her soft drink and made a face. Then she stared down into her glass, eyes narrowed, and took another pull on her straw. Her voice was outraged. "Did you switch our drinks?"
Oh, shit. Her hand reached for his glass, but he pulled it out of reach, which was stupid, because he was already busted. "Maybe you just picked the wrong one up."
Mandy rolled her eyes, but she was laughing, thank God. "Nice try. You are very lucky that I love you, or you’d be wearing that Diet Coke in your lap right now."
But her threat didn’t bother him in the least. He stared at her, amazed at how those words could change his every perspective, every thought, every day. "I am lucky that you love me. I don’t deserve this much luck."
Her mouth opened into a surprised O. Then she wet her lips and gripped her purse. A sensual sigh drifted over to him. "Take me home, Damien, so I can show you what you deserve."
Chapter 24
Mandy strolled down the pavement, leaning on Damien’s arm. It was a fabulous night, the air warm and balmy on her bare arms. Traffic was light in this neighborhood, trees tucked into little squares of dirt curbside, and flowers spilled out of window boxes. For having spent most of her girlhood in the English countryside, she really did love the city, and this was a quiet, well-established area.
In the restaurant rest room, she had splashed water on her face and got a handle on her emotions. Now, strolling along on a beautiful summer night, she realized she was feeling at peace with the world. With herself. So Ben didn’t want a baby. That was not new information, and if he took himself off now before the baby was born, all the less complicated everything would be.
None of that mattered. It would all work out. She was certain of it.
"Don’t faint from hunger. My building is right here." Damien pulled her toward the front doors and led her inside. Since he actually looked worried, she gave a smile to reassure him.
"When I was sick in my first trimester, my doctor told me not to ever worry about the baby. That if need be, my body will give to the baby first, consume my fat stores, then attack my own muscles to provide the baby with nourishment."
"That’s kind of gruesome. But biological maternal instinct, huh?" Damien stopped in front of the elevators after hitting the button. He opened the bag of food he was holding and pulled out a spring roll. "Eat it. We don’t want your muscles being cannibalized."
They got on the elevator, and Mandy laughed. "Don’t worry, I have a few fat stores left before they get to the muscles." But she bit the roll anyway. She was starving.
"Elevator, upset stomach… if I had any coffee, this would remind me of the day we met."
"Should I bend over? Then it would really be romantic."
"Yes, it would." His eyebrows went up suggestively and his eyes darkened. "Though hot is probably a better word than romantic."
Mandy clamped her mouth shut so carrot and water chestnuts bits wouldn’t fall out. "I was joking! I meant it wouldn’t be romantic, like the day we… oh, never mind. I know exactly what you were thinking, you bloody pervert."
He just laughed.
After eating, Damien showed Mandy around his apartment. It had been built in the sixties, so it was sparse on details, with chopped-up rooms and low ceilings. He had been working on fixing that, adding molding around the windows and working on plans with a contractor to knock out the walls that created narrow hallways. The end result would be an open, airy flow from three principle rooms, instead of the five tiny rooms he had now.
Except he was thinking some modifications to the plans might be needed.
"It’s a great apartment, and so amazingly quiet."
"That’s why I moved here." He paused in the doorway of his bedroom. "I was planning to knock this wall out into the other bedroom and make this room bigger and the other into a walk-in closet, but I’m rethinking that."
"Why?" Mandy went into the room and turned around, taking in the space as her fingers trailed over his bed, lingering on the soft downy white pillows. "And why am I not the least bit surprised that this room is so clean and neat you could probably eat off the floor?"