More family for Christmas?

Scott Walker doesn’t have time for a relationship. The sexy mechanic has career ambitions, not to mention a mother and three sisters to take care of. The last thing he needs is Carrie Jameson, the beauty he never forgot, arriving in Templeton Cove over the holidays with some unexpected news.

Scott still finds Carrie irresistible, and he’s not one to shirk responsibility. Scott’s issues with his own dad make the prospect of parenthood a minefield. But if he and Carrie can overcome their fears, this Christmas could bring them the best gift of all.

“I’m leaving.”

Scott gripped Carrie’s arm, his eyes blazing. “I don’t know what you expected by coming here and telling me this, but if you thought I wouldn’t give a damn, you’re mistaken. I don’t walk away from the problems that drop into my lap uninvited. I never have before and I’m not about to start now.”

She glared. “Belle isn’t a problem. She’s a little girl who’s lost the only father she’s ever known.” She yanked her arm from his grip. “And you’ve got plans, so why don’t you do us both a favor and continue with them? It’s Christmas. Go be happy with your family.”

“It seems one half of my new family is standing right in front of me.”

Dear Reader,

It’s time for Christmas at the Cove! I am so excited to introduce my first ever Christmas story and the fourth book in my ongoing series set in the fictional U.K. town of Templeton Cove.

Thank you so much for the emails and Tweets asking me to write the stories of so many of the secondary characters who have appeared so far. I am overwhelmed with the love for Templeton Cove and its residents! I have just finished book five, which features a hero and heroine from book three, What Belongs to Her (MILLS & BOON Superromance, March 2014), so I hope you’ll look forward to that.

Christmas at the Cove stars Carrie Jameson and Scott Walker, who met a few years before when Carrie was visiting the cove. The sexual heat between them was too much to resist, and soon after Carrie returned home she discovered she was pregnant.

Deciding a baby was the last responsibility a gorgeous bad boy would want, Carrie chose to raise little Belle alone, then later in a marriage with a good and devoted man. Carrie has always been tormented by the guilt of not telling Scott he is a father, and after her husband’s death, she returns to the cove to lay her guilt to rest so she can live an authentic life.

After thinking about Carrie for years, Scott is thrown for a loop when she returns…and even more so when she tells him he’s a daddy. Scott is devoted to his mother and sisters and won’t turn his back on his daughter, but he needs to know that he can trust the woman who kept Belle a secret.

I so enjoyed writing this book, and the glittering Christmas lights and warm homely scenes only added to my creative joy. Merry Christmas, everyone!

I’d love to hear from you, so feel free to follow me on Twitter or email me anytime.

Rachel Brimble

Twitter: @RachelBrimble Email: rachelbrimble@googlemail.com

Christmas at the Cove

Rachel Brimble

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

RACHEL lives in a small market town only a short distance from the famous Georgian city of Bath, England. Becoming an author is a dream come true, and Rachel now writes contemporary romance and romantic suspense for Mills & Boon, and Victorian romance for Kensington. When she isn’t writing, Rachel likes to read, knit, watch far too much TV and walk the gorgeous English countryside with her husband, two daughters and beloved black Labrador, Max. Christmas at the Cove is Rachel’s fourth book with Mills & Boon, and with book five finished, she has many more books in mind for Mills & Boon Superromance and her beloved Templeton Cove. Watch this space! She loves chatting and connecting with readers and romance authors alike and would love to hear from you!

Website: www.RachelBrimble.com Blog: www.RachelBrimble.blogspot.ca Twitter: @RachelBrimble Facebook: www.Facebook.com/RachelBrimbleAuthor

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

Summer, Three Years Earlier

THE DOOR OF The Coast Inn swung open and Carrie looked up from her shot at the pool table. The stranger in the doorway was tall and broad, his face in shadow as the freak summer downpour flowed in torrents behind him. She straightened, inexplicable tension lifting the hairs at the back of her neck. The reggae track that blasted from the jukebox faded, and the chattering laughter all around her subsided.

He stepped inside the bar and shook the rain from his dark hair, pushing his fingers through the wet strands. She tried to drag her gaze away but instead openly stared at his wide, powerfully built chest. He didn’t wear a jacket and muscles rippled beneath translucent white cotton. Her gaze wandered lower over his flat stomach to linger shamelessly at his groin encased in blue jeans.

“Carrie? What’s wrong?”

Carrie blinked and plastered on a wide smile. She turned and met Michaela’s slightly wine-glazed stare. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m working out my strategy for this next shot.” She focused on the task at hand, her grasp trembling around the cue. “Hold on to your hat. You’re going down.”

She shot the ball and missed by inches.

Michaela gave an inelegant snort. “Oh, yeah, you’ve got this game in the bag.”

Carrie shrugged and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Fine, let’s see if you can do any better.”

She stepped back when Michaela elbowed her out of the way. The music and chatter had re-emerged and Carrie breathed a little easier. With her friend’s back turned, she looked at the stranger again. He faced away from her, laughing with the bartender as he snapped the top off a beer bottle and slid it across the bar. When her object of fascination lifted the bottle to his lips, the skin at his throat shifted and moved as he drank, hitching every nerve in Carrie’s body to high alert.

Never in her life had she looked at a guy and wanted to keep looking like she did now. I have to talk to him. Her head swam with too much wine and too little food. What else could be the cause of this momentary lapse in the sensible and steady personality she’d worn with ease her entire adult life?

She was here for a fun weekend with her girlfriends. A hardworking, ambitious woman working as a TV producer for a national network. A woman who went through life with methodical precision. A woman who dated and carefully considered...who never leaped into bed with a guy she’d only just seen.

So why did she want to do exactly that?

She couldn’t think past walking over to him, sliding her hand into his and leading him out of the bar to the hotel where she and her friends were staying.

She swallowed and hungrily ran her gaze over the back of his head, continuing her perusal. Muscles flexed and relaxed beneath his shirt; his butt was firm...the side of his thigh muscular and thick. Her body yearned with a desire she couldn’t explain.

He turned and her breath lodged in her throat.

Their eyes locked and his laughter came to an abrupt stop. His smile dissolved as the beer bottle hovered at his mouth and everything quieted once more. She tried to move, to turn and rejoin her friends, but her feet remained welded to the wood flooring.

With his eyes still on hers, he put the bottle on the bar and stepped toward her. Panic rushed through Carrie and she shot a glance over her shoulder. Her three friends watched him approach, their cheeks flushed and their eyes agog. Carrie’s heart pounded and her mouth drained dry. She turned to face him.

He stopped directly in front of her and she tipped her head back to look into his eyes. In the muted light, they shone a bright blue, striking against his deep olive skin. His gaze roamed over her face, down to her breasts and back again.

She wet her lips and forced a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.” The seconds beat like minutes before he took another step closer. “I’m Scott.”

“Carrie.”

“I haven’t seen you before.”

“I’m visiting for a few days.” She glanced behind her. “These are my friends.”

He turned to Michaela and the others and dipped his head before facing Carrie once more. “You look as though you’re having a good time.”

She lifted her chin, forced nonchalance into her stance. “I am. Templeton seems a nice place.”

“How long are you staying?”

“Until tomorrow.”

His gaze bored into hers. “Then we don’t have much time.”

She stiffened. No. He can’t mean... She huffed out a laugh. “For what?”

His eyes gleamed. “You know what.”

She crossed her arms to hide the trembling, to stop from reaching up and grabbing his jaw to bring his lips to hers. “Do I?”

“We need to get out of here.”

Oh, my God. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

Carrie glanced toward Michaela and the others and bit back a bubble of nervous laughter. Her friends wore identical, jaw-dropped expressions of fascination. “I can’t just leave—”

“You don’t strike me as the type of woman who lives to other people’s schedules.” His gaze glided over her face in a steady, soft caress that made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. A way she’d never felt her entire life. He lifted his shoulders. “Or maybe I’m wrong.”

Carrie drew in a long breath as her habitual need to maintain control rose. He’s a player. Walk away. Go back to your friends. “You’re right, but I don’t know you.”

His gaze darkened and settled at her mouth. “Ditto.”

“Then I should stay here.”

He lifted his gaze to hers and said nothing.

Time stood still as her heart beat fast and her mind whirled. How could she not go? Every nerve in her body screamed for this man; every second that passed felt wasted. She waited for the rush of her returning sanity, but instead, relief swam through her. Relief he’d suggested they leave together first, that this madness was his idea, not hers. Could she do this? Just go with him and to hell with the consequences?

“Do you do this often?” She lifted an eyebrow, going for the breezy rather than the terrified. “Approach women in bars and ask them to leave with you?”

“Never. You’re the first.”

She looked into his eyes and nothing but sincerity shone back. God, she wanted to go with him. Desperately. “You could be an axe-murderer for all I know.”

She said the words, but no part of her was afraid of this man. Instead, she wanted to comfort him, to soothe the deep frustration emanating from him. The look in his eyes wasn’t full of male ego but intense inquiry, mixed with a hint of disbelief that she understood only too well in that moment.

He exhaled. “I could be, but I’m not. I’ll look after you, Carrie. I promise.” He raised his hand. “Scott’s honor.”

Her stomach knotted and laughter bubbled in her throat once more. “Well, in that case...” She smiled, still apprehensive. “I’ll grab my purse.”

For the first time since he’d left his barstool, he smiled. A smile so soft, she sensed his mutual relief. Sensed he was as unsure about what he was doing as she was. On shaking legs, Carrie approached her friends and glanced at each of them in turn, desperate for the words to explain she had to make love to this stranger or regret it for the rest of her life. She wanted him to take her and feel the weight of his body pressed down on hers. She wanted to smell him, touch him and hear him groan.

She focused on Michaela, her best friend and only hope of being understood.

Michaela frowned. “Carrie?”

Carrie smiled, even though nerves and doubt danced in her stomach. “I have to go with him.”

She moved to walk away, but Michaela gripped her wrist. “You don’t know this guy.”

Aware of Scott watching, Carrie pulled back her shoulders. “But I will.”

“Carrie—”

“I have to do this.” She eased her arm from her friend’s grip. “I’ll call you. If you don’t hear from me in a couple of hours, call the police.” She winked and pushed away the seriousness of the implication.

“That’s not funny.” Michaela glanced toward Scott before facing Carrie again. “If you want to go, I can’t stop you, but for God’s sake, call me later so I know you’re okay.”

Carrie smiled even as unease rippled through her. Michaela’s concern was justified. Wouldn’t she have been saying the same things to her friend if the roles were reversed? She squeezed Michaela’s hand. “I will. I promise.”

After a final worried look in Scott’s direction, Michaela smiled and raised her hands in surrender. “Fine. Then get out of here.”

Grinning, Carrie faced Scott. “Ready?”

He nodded. Her heart stuttered, but still Carrie slipped her hand into his and led him from the bar.

* * *

HER SKIN WAS like smoldering silk beneath his hands. Scott relished his exploration over her back and along the bumps of her spine and ribs as she lay facedown on the hotel bed. Her body delicately quivered and a soft mew whispered from her lips. He burned it all into his memory because there was every chance this would be their single time together. An event never to be repeated.

The tension in her shoulders when he smoothed his fingers across them and the way her toes remained curled against the mattress spoke of a woman doing something alien to her. The thought he’d never see her again sent panic ricocheting through him, but he had no right to expect more. He’d approached her. He was the one who’d been pulled from his barstool as though hypnotized.

He was no angel. He enjoyed the chase and the conquer. This was neither. He was hers for the taking. The feeling was unwanted...and scary as hell. For the first time in his life, it was important he found a way for a woman to entirely trust him...to understand he’d take care of her. That he wouldn’t walk away from her as he had others.

A crack of summer lightning lit the peach-and-cream hotel room and she stiffened beneath his fingers. He smiled. “Shh.”

Her body relaxed into the mattress. The drapes lifted as the wind gathered ferocity and washed into the room through the open window. When the sun had burned hot that afternoon, he wouldn’t have believed they’d need to seek shelter from this seemingly impenetrable storm. He swallowed. How could he have imagined any of this?

He didn’t pick women up in bars and sleep with them. He dated them, romanced them and ensured they had a good time whenever they were with him. He didn’t understand nor need the unspoken seriousness of his reaction to Carrie. She mattered. Something in her eyes spoke to his heart. It was as though he already knew her...and she possessed the power to change his life in the blink of an eye. He laughed, joked, played pool and hung with the boys. He didn’t fall in love.

He’d been struck; caught in her invisible snare.

Yet despite the emotional risks to his heart, he didn’t leave her bed. He didn’t gather his discarded clothes and escape the room in a bid to salvage what was left of his sanity. He continued to touch her. Adore every damn inch of her.

She’d shaken her long, blond hair from its clip the moment they stepped inside, her brown eyes boring into his, dark with desire. Carrie. The urge to say her name over and over rose to his tongue and he swallowed it down. He wanted to know where she came from...and, more important, would she stay with him.

But he wouldn’t push her. Her need to be in control permeated the room. If he didn’t let her lead this moment, it could be over before it began and he couldn’t allow that to happen.

He sensed her tension, her confusion and it was equally as potent as his. His heart hammered and his cock hardened as he smoothed his hand lower over the dimples at the base of her spine to the soft curve of her ass. She stretched beneath his touch, languishing like a panther against the stroke of his fingers. Scott clenched his jaw. He sensed one wrong move on his part and the spell would be broken.

But for now she was his.

Something had gripped them both, and its claws dug deep. Her hair was thick and long, almost reaching to her waist, her figure the hourglass perfection akin to Marilyn Monroe. Unbelievable curves in all the right places. She had the sexiest body he’d ever had the honor to touch. He didn’t need to question if doing something like this, with him, was in any way the norm for her. Her insecurity showed over and over in the flashes of doubt that whipped across her gaze, before she blinked and they were replaced with determination.

He didn’t dare question her reasoning for fear he wouldn’t like the answer. The moment he laid eyes on her, fate had reached in and gripped his damn heart.

She turned over and his gaze dropped to her full, creamy white breasts. He smoothed his thumb across one pink nipple and then the other. They instantly hardened. He smiled softly and met her huge eyes in the semidarkness. They were wide with wonderment, yet confident and sexy as hell.

“I want to make love with you.” She reached up and smoothed the fallen hair from his brow. “Then you leave. Can you do that?”

No. I can’t leave. I can’t not look at you or touch you again. He looked deep into her eyes, desperate to understand her. “Why?”

“It has to be this way. I have things I want, things I need to do. I can’t give or promise you anything.” She closed her eyes. “I need to hear you’re okay with that. Otherwise this stops now.”

What the hell was going on here? It was usually he who laid the ground rules so a woman didn’t get hurt, he that made them understand he wasn’t the type of guy they wanted to hang around with too long. Yet now, with Carrie...he swallowed. He had no idea how he’d leave. Scott’s heart beat fast, but he held her steady gaze. “I won’t ask you for anything.”

She smiled softly and opened her eyes. “Good.”

His gut knotted with regret as a woman turned the tables on him for the first time. He wanted her. All of her. He slid his gaze from her face to glide languidly over her body. His heart twisted. She’d been honest, which was a quality he held above all others. This was about tonight and tonight only for her. He’d deal with the aftermath because not doing this, not taking her while he could, wasn’t an option. He met her eyes. “Will I see you again?”

A faint blush colored her cheeks, but her gaze never wavered. “I don’t know.”

Pain hit his chest but still he nodded. “Okay.” Scott let the silken strands of her hair drift through his fingers, and inhaled a long breath. “I haven’t the time for a relationship right now, either.” Liar. You’d make time for her. “My life...is stressful, to say the least.” He looked deep into her eyes, hating the way he wanted to keep her with him. He smiled. “I’ll make love to you and then leave.”

He lowered his lips to hers and she surprised him when she met his kiss with ardent intensity. Their tongues explored and dominated, surrendered and resisted. They touched each other’s skin. Caressed, rubbed and teased. Scott’s blood pumped fast and hot; his penis ached and his balls tightened. She consumed him.

His entire being had come alive with an electricity only she could ground.

“Now. I want you now.” Her breath rasped against the side of his face.

He slid his fingers through her delicate patch of pubic hair and found her hot, wet and ready. He massaged her and she shook her head, her cheeks flushed, her teeth clenched. “Now, Scott. Please.”

The desperation in her voice stroked his ego and confidence bloomed, where moments before it had wavered. He leaned over the bed and snatched a condom from the side table. He sheathed himself, moved over her and hovered. When her gaze locked on his, he slid deep inside her silky warmth. She closed her eyes and he thrust deep, drew back and thrust again, intent on taking them to a place neither would forget. He clenched his jaw, his heart hammering. God, don’t let her forget me...

CHAPTER ONE

CARRIE STARED THROUGH the murky window of the train station café as she waited for her mother to return from the bathroom. Her heart beat fast and her hands trembled around an oversize latte. When her stomach heaved with trepidation, she pushed the drink away.

Never in a million years did she imagine she’d be in her current position.

Successful, hardworking and entirely independent...but also mum to a two-year-old little girl. A little girl with jet-black hair and bright blue eyes so like her father’s. Carrie swallowed. Maybe Belle didn’t need to know her biological father. Maybe I don’t need to find a man I slept with over and over again in the sexiest and most fantastical week of my life.

She snapped her eyes open and inhaled a strengthening breath. No. She had to do this. It was Christmas, and Lord only knew when she’d have a decent amount of time away from the studio again. She had to put things right. She’d promised herself she’d do everything she could do to find Scott. No more deceit. No more secrets. New year, new start.

Tears burned and Carrie closed her eyes against the images of her deceased husband’s cut and bruised face. Gerard’s green eyes had pleaded with her as he lay in a hospital bed, holding on to the last minutes of his life.

“Find him, Carrie. Find Belle’s father. She’ll want to know him one day.” Gerard tightened his grip on her hand. “Find him. Be happy.”

In that moment, everything became clear. Carrie had looked into Gerard’s eyes and known how badly she’d failed to convince him Scott was nothing to her, that the night, that had so quickly become a week, was only a distant memory. Tears burned. She’d never forgotten a moment of it. She’d never forgotten Scott....

“Your train’s here, sweetheart. Time to go.”

Her mother’s voice filtered through Carrie’s memories and she abruptly stood, hitching her tote bag onto her shoulder. “I am doing the right thing, aren’t I?”

Her mother’s concerned gaze ran over Carrie’s face. “You’re having second thoughts?”

Carrie swallowed and closed her eyes as, once again, guilt pressed down on her that her reasons for finding Scott weren’t entirely motivated by their daughter. What kind of person grieved her husband for a year and then began to have thoughts about a man she hadn’t seen for three years? She opened her eyes. “I’m just scared of what will happen once Scott sees me after all this time.” She exhaled and stared through the open café door at the bustling platform. “I have no idea if he still lives in Templeton. Worse, we both made it perfectly clear we would draw a line under that time from the moment I left. Now, when I turn up out of the blue and tell him he has a daughter...”

Her mother frowned. “If you’re not ready, wait. Belle is little more than a toddler. You have time.”

Carrie sighed. “Do I? If Gerard’s accident didn’t teach me how quickly life can change, nothing will. What I want doesn’t come into it. I have to do this.” Carrie forced a smile in a bid to allay the worry in her mother’s eyes. “I’m being silly. Everything will be okay. Belle has a right to know her birth father. Scott was a really nice guy. I’m sure he still is.”

“Well, if he’s in Templeton, you’ll find him.” Her mother gripped her hands and smiled softly. “I can still come with you, you know.”

Carrie shook her head. “I have to do this alone.” She winked. “Besides, if Dad has to look after Belle on his own for more than a few hours, God knows what we’d come back to.”

Her mother laughed. “Well, there is that, I suppose.”

Carrie lifted her chin, her stomach knotting. “I should’ve done this years ago and then maybe the guilt I’m feeling wouldn’t be quite so heavy.”

“You were adamant you didn’t want a stranger in Belle’s life.” Her mother cupped Carrie’s jaw. “You didn’t know this man. You still don’t. You did what you thought was right at the time. No good will come of looking back.”

Carrie frowned. “But what if I’m wrong now? What if...what if this is more about what I need to do to clear my conscience than what’s right for Belle?”

Her mother’s gaze filled with sympathy. “If you want to turn around and walk out of this station right now, we can. Lord knows, I’d be lying if I said the fact you’re getting on a train to find a man you don’t know doesn’t frighten me half to death.”

Trepidation and fear of the unknown battled as Carrie’s heart hammered. “I want a fresh start in the New Year. I want to pick myself up and start living again. The chances are Scott won’t want anything to do with Belle, or me, which is fine. I can come back home knowing I did my best by Belle and we’re free to live our lives, just the two of us.” Liar. Scott’s her daddy. Her family...and you’ve not had a single day in the last three years when he hasn’t snuck into your head.

Despite the lines wrinkling her mother’s brow, she smiled and her gaze softened. “You’re a brave woman taking control of your life.” She glanced toward the window and the idling train beyond. “No matter how much your father and I are going to worry about you the entire time you’re in Templeton.”

Carrie looped her hand through her mother’s arm. “No matter what happens next, Gerard was my husband, and I’ll never forget how much he loved us, but I have to do this.”

“Then don’t let the lessons he taught you about love be wasted. You’re human and you need to let this guilt go. Belle is the best thing in your life. She’s your daughter and you love her. Tracking down her biological father will never change the fact that little girl is yours.”

Carrie exhaled, uneasy, before picking up her suitcase. “Come on. I need to hurry before the train leaves without me.”

They walked from the café onto the platform. The smell of bacon, burgers, grease and oil gripped Carrie’s stomach as she glanced toward the train waiting to take her on the most terrifying journey of her life.

The conductor’s whistle blew, making her start. Her mother pressed a firm kiss to Carrie’s cheek. “Your father and I will keep Belle so busy she won’t give you a second thought. You’ll be home for Christmas and we’ll have a wonderful time. I promise.”

Carrie grasped the handle of her suitcase and pulled back her shoulders. “I’ll call as soon as I’m settled in the hotel. Give Belle a big good-night kiss from me, okay?”

Her mother wavered as tears glazed her eyes. “Of course. Now go. Quickly.”

The whistle blew a second time and, with a final glance at her mother, Carrie rushed for the train. “Hold that door.”

The burly conductor scowled as she leaped past him into the carriage. Carrie walked along the aisle as the train rumbled into motion. She drew on every ounce of inner strength that had gotten her through losing her loving husband and Belle’s real father...no matter what DNA might argue.

She hefted her suitcase onto the overhead rack and slid into a vacant seat, resolutely turning her face from the platform for fear she might see her mother and bolt for the exit.

The train picked up speed and left the station. Barely a mile or two had passed before the slowly darkening sky surrendered its cargo and spat sleet violently against the window. Carrie flinched. It was as though God showed His disapproval of her plans. Only He knew what the next few days held, but either way, she had to go through with tracking down Scott. The past few weeks had been filled with her constant contemplation of whether or not she and Scott could’ve had a chance of making it work. And she couldn’t go on another day wondering, worrying...maybe even hoping.

Gerard’s death had caused a huge shift inside her and Carrie refused to continue to live with the punishing belief she’d walked away from Scott out of pure, unadulterated fear.

Fear of the passion he brought out in her.

It had been spellbinding and stripped her of her usual sensibility; made her feel she could conquer the world...albeit without responsibility or thought of anything or anyone.

Heat rose in her face and she forced the traitorous smile from her lips. No one lived like that.

Yet still she wondered if he would look the same or if he’d recognize her. All Carrie remembered of him was his wild, intense, vivid blue eyes and unruly jet-black hair...and his body. Always his damn body.

She dropped her gaze to her clenched hands and stared at her wedding band. Gerard was gone. Killed having suffered severe internal injuries in a motorbike accident. Never to return. Never to hold her in his big capable arms and tell her everything would be okay. Time and again, Gerard had suggested they find Scott and tell him about Belle...and time and again, Carrie suspected his motives were based in his need to ease her anguish, than wanting to invite another man into the life of the little girl he considered his own.

Carrie inhaled. She’d always told him there was no need; that she was happy. His dying request and the look in his eyes proved all too clearly he knew she wasn’t as happy as she should’ve been.

She swallowed. She’d been selfish in her reasons, weak in her motivation. The fear that the sudden and powerful pull she’d felt for Scott the week Belle was conceived would reignite the moment she saw him again had held her back. How would she fight it when it consumed her so completely before? She hadn’t looked for Scott all this time for the pure terror of hurting Gerard. She loved Gerard, adored him, but not once had he evoked the same passion.

Carrie swiped at her face. She was a coward and now Gerard had been taken from her. It was a lesson. A lesson she learned fast and felt deeply.

Guilt clenched around her aching heart. She’d clung to Gerard like he was a buoy in the turbulent ocean during the emotional upheaval of an unexpected pregnancy. A quiet, intelligent and funny writer she’d dated on and off and whose company she loved—yet the special frisson she sought in her heart and in her life hadn’t materialized between them.

Pregnant, afraid and unsure of the future, Carrie had been prepared to raise Belle alone, but Gerard had softly and patiently shown her she didn’t have to. After months of his pursuing her, she’d welcomed his love with open arms and given hers freely. When they married, just a few months after Belle was born, Carrie stood tall and proud before the registrar on that hot August day and pledged her love and life to the man who had shown her his heart.

Now it was time to start again. To face all the fears she’d had when she made the decision not to tell Scott about Belle.

With her parents’ love and support, Carrie had gotten through the past twelve months, knowing her precious baby was surrounded by people who loved her. Scott was a stranger. A man who could insist on seeing Belle when Carrie knew nothing about him. If she’d told Scott about Belle when she was born, he might have asked Carrie to move to Templeton, away from everything she loved and worked for at home. She hadn’t been prepared to do that then...and wasn’t sure if she would be now. Either way, she had to reconnect with Scott so she could live her life authentically. No more secrets.

She stared through the window at the passing countryside. She might finally be doing the moral thing, yet the feeling that returning to Templeton would be her undoing lingered. She couldn’t allow anything to dissuade her from her plans to build a life of her own making...for her and her child. Relying on Scott hadn’t been an option in the past, and it wouldn’t be now.

Everything in her life would be open, honest and real.

She stared at her wedding band. She wanted to start again, but this only remaining token of her marriage was the hardest to remove.

Scott had made love to her as she’d never been made love to before or since. She’d never forgotten the stranger filled with passion and a brooding intensity that was thrilling and exciting—entirely impossible to resist, but lust didn’t last. Scott’s skillful hands and rock-solid body had taken her to places she would’ve never known...but lifelong trust wasn’t built on good sex.

The aura of complexity surrounding Scott sparked an instinct in her that he wasn’t ready to love and cherish her. It was very probable she’d feel the same if and when she tracked him down in Templeton.

Carrie closed her eyes.

Hindsight had shown her that her marriage with Gerard was rife with the unresolved, lingering issue of Scott and his paternity to Belle. She refused to allow a hurtful boulder like that to remain in her life any longer.

Her nights with Scott were meant to be a single moment in time...then they’d conceived a child. The first time they made love they’d been careful...the other times need had overtaken caution and neither of them had thought of protection. She’d never done anything so impulsive as to call work and say she’d been struck down with a stomach infection so she could spend a few more nights with a man she’d only just met. She never lied. Period. Scott had brought out all sorts of unpredictable behavior in her...and instead of her fearing the liberty, Carrie found herself craving it.

Desperate for distraction from the cruel thoughts racing in her head, Carrie snapped open her eyes and yanked her tote bag from the seat beside her. She extracted a paperback and smiled wryly at the cover. Living Your Life Your Way. She opened the book and made a resigned effort to immerse herself in spirited decision-making.

* * *

THE TRAIN RUMBLED beneath Carrie as it slowed and she shifted forward to get a better view through the window. The track ran high through the hills above the Cove before proceeding on a downward spiral toward the heart of Templeton town center. When she’d last seen this view, it had been a balmy July evening and the sun had lit the small seaside town in all its picture-perfect glory. The multi-colored houses, the rows of quaint thatched cottages on the outskirts and the beach with its tumbling rock formations had been idyllic.

Now the town shone beneath a twinkling blanket of lights and huge, illuminated Christmas decorations. Carrie smiled as the reds, golds and greens flickered and danced. Dusk would soon fall and she didn’t doubt the seaside town would look more beautiful than ever. Her smile faltered and she slumped back into her seat. She couldn’t be seduced by its beauty...and she couldn’t be seduced by the thought of anything substantial existing between her and Scott, either.

The train shrieked to a stop and the gray evening light turned dark under the shadow of the platform’s metal lattice overhang. Passengers stood to retrieve cases and bags, but Carrie remained stock-still in her seat.

It was six days before Christmas. She’d find Scott, tell him about Belle and if he reacted in any way she couldn’t handle, she’d get the first possible train out of there. Everything would be fine. It was nothing more than a case of ripping off the Band-Aid and exposing her open wound to the air so it could start to heal over. Yes, she’d been selfish in her decision-making as far as Scott was concerned, and even though Gerard’s sudden death had rocked her soul and broken her heart, she was stronger than ever before. She knew her heart and mind, made her own decisions and molded her own destiny. The first step was making this the last Christmas she kept her secret hidden.

The New Year would be a different year for her, and possibly Scott.

Carrie shook off her melancholy and pushed to her feet, forcing her chin high. She heaved her case from the rack and purposefully headed toward the nearest exit.

She was in Templeton, but this time she was all grown up, her naivety well and truly quashed. The woman Scott had known was gone and now the mother of his child stood in her place. There would be no racing heart and pumping blood upon sight of him. No instantaneous need to have him touch her, kiss her and take her under again and again until she couldn’t breathe.

This time, she’d be entirely in control.

* * *

SCOTT WALKER SNATCHED a rag from the engine of the car and wiped his grease-smothered hands. He stared toward the open double doors of his garage and wandered closer. The sleet came down harder than when he’d disappeared under the car’s hood half an hour before. He grimaced.

Less than a week to Christmas and he had yet to buy a single present for his mum and three younger sisters. If he didn’t sort something out soon, they’d undoubtedly team together and strip him naked before working him into the ass of the Christmas Day turkey.

Then there were the women he’d taken out over the last few weeks...

Damn. He was stuffing whichever way he looked at it. To men, a few dates meant a nice time and a little kissing and flirting. To women, a few dates often meant a hell of a lot more. Guilt slithered over his shoulders and he steadfastly shook it off. He had nothing to feel guilty about. Honesty was his steadfast priority and he’d been careful his entire life not to promise a woman something he couldn’t deliver.

He’d never cheated nor left a woman’s bed without a kiss and his number, should she ever need to call. He enjoyed a busy social life and worked on plenty of cars that belonged to the women he’d dated after they amicably went their separate ways. He might be considered a bit of a rogue around town...but he wasn’t a liar, and the women he dated knew that. Scott clenched his jaw. Or at least, most of them did.

Wandering back to the car, he shook off the niggling irritation over the split with one particular ex and stuffed the oily rag in his back pocket. He planted his hands on his hips, surveying his completed handiwork. The car was now running like a dream and he’d cleaned it all down as well as topped off the oil and water.

Slamming the hood closed, he strolled around the other two cars waiting to be serviced before ascending a set of iron steps to his office. He closed the door and headed for the small fridge. He pulled out a beer and snapped off the top. Taking a long slug, he strode to his desk, collapsed into the chair and lifted his booted feet onto the desktop, crossing them at the ankles.

The cold beer slid welcome down his throat as thoughts of what he had planned for the next year filtered into his mind. He’d worked long and hard, bought the garage and made it enough of a success he would be bidding on an auction for garage number two in the New Year. He smiled. He was on his way.

Financially stable and continuing to provide for his family, he found life was good and settled, just as he planned. He took another drink. Even though he was nothing like his AWOL father, he couldn’t deny the thought of relationships, marriage and babies sent him running for cover.

That didn’t mean he would up and leave his family anytime soon. He was just fine and dandy living his life single and on his terms. Ignoring the ache in his chest, Scott took another pull on his beer.

The fact remained he still avoided serious relationships like his life depended on it. He couldn’t go there even if he found a woman he wanted. Not until he was ready to be a father and a provider and, by God, he wasn’t ready for either yet. There had been one woman that made him think he’d risk everything he held dear to be with her forever.

Forever lasted less than a few days before she disappeared out of his life again.

Scott took another drink. So he’d done his duty and continued to focus on looking after his mother and sisters as he had for the seven years before that fantastic week. He couldn’t deny his blood pumped with adrenaline, pulsed with a need for excitement and adventure...even some good old-fashioned romance from time to time, but he wouldn’t do that to himself, or a woman, until he was sure they’d both be around for the long haul.

The tension that knotted in his gut when he considered a committed relationship told him all too clearly he was nowhere near ready.

Scott hefted his feet from the desk and approached the office window. His Benelli motorbike was parked near the entrance of the garage, ready and waiting, primed to within an inch of her metallic life. Every time he revved her up, it was as though the bike urged him to just get the hell out of Templeton and onto the open road.

“No can do, sweetheart. No can do.” The weight of his familial obligations pressed down on his chest and Scott drained his beer.

He tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin and whipped his leather jacket from the back of his chair. He shrugged it on, snatched his keys from inside the top drawer of his desk and strode toward the door. He locked it behind him and hurried down the steps, eagerly approaching his bike.

His heart pumped with anticipation for the freedom he felt whenever he rode her. He kicked the machine off its stand and wheeled it into the yard. He narrowed his eyes to look at the jet-black sky. Rain spattered his face. The gathering clouds would soon cover any stars that dared to appear when the mid-December temperatures slowly edged toward freezing.

He took his helmet from the box at the rear of his bike, pulled it on and straddled his favorite female. He gunned the engine and satisfaction roared through him as the powerful bike ignited his adrenaline and need for speed. Snapping down his helmet’s black visor, he accelerated onto the road toward Templeton’s town center.

He eased off the gas as he merged with the chaotic holiday traffic crawling along High Street. Colored fairy lights danced across his vision and he glanced toward the decorated shops on either side of him. The bustling summer season felt like an imagined memory. The Templeton shop owners were nothing if not resourceful, and each year the shops that kept the tourists happy with little pails and shovels in summer kept the residents happy at Christmastime with an array of gifts, original artwork and knickknacks only a woman needed.

Knowing he had to do something in the way of appeasing his coven of female relations, Scott reluctantly pulled into a parking space outside one of the shops. Cutting the engine, he slid off his helmet and ran his hand through his hair. He glanced toward a latticed window donning a particularly festive display and grimaced. Christmas was about time with family, laughing and joking, while consuming far too much food and beer. It wasn’t about sparkly red baubles, dancing reindeer or plastic Santas clutching their juddering bellies.

Get your ass in there and get this done, Walker. He swung off the bike and stowed his helmet.

Pocketing his keys, he took a deep breath and purposefully marched toward the shop. He raised his hand to push the door when it swung abruptly open. Upon sight of the woman’s long blond hair and hourglass figure trussed up in a fur-collared winter coat, he stepped back and waved his hand to the side in a theatrical gesture of gallantry. She barely glanced at him as she continued to coo and chatter into the cell phone glued to her ear, but he saw enough of her pretty features to cause his entire body to freeze and his grin to vanish.

Her soft floral scent whispered beneath his nostrils and her mumbled “thank you” seeped into his ears, burrowing deep into his mind. She hurried away along the street. Scott stared after her, his heart a granite rock in the center of his chest. That hair. That figure.

He swallowed. The short length of her coat showcased stocking-covered, shapely calves that he’d never forgotten. He couldn’t be mistaken. It was her.

He released his held breath and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Not now. Not after all this time...

CHAPTER TWO

THE CHRISTIE HOTEL was wonderfully, quintessentially English. As a lifelong lover of all things Agatha Christie, Carrie had fallen in love the moment she walked into the Art Deco lobby earlier that evening. Unable to resist her producer’s habit of people-watching, she’d happily taken the key from the receptionist, dumped her case—after a little squeal of nostalgic satisfaction at the bedroom’s decor—and hurried back downstairs.

Now, as she stood in the hotel’s lobby, she released her held breath on an appreciative sigh. A gorgeous ruby-red carpet stretched out in front of her, leading to the closed beveled-glass, creamy-white doors of the bar at the far end. On either side of her, dual chairs were placed around low tables where people sat and chatted over a glass of wine or brandy. Plinths holding huge floral cascades of every imaginable color boosted the décor, the gilded mirrors reflecting the light in prisms around the vast space.

When her gaze travelled the height and breadth of the gloriously lit Christmas tree in the very center of the lobby, all thoughts of the dreaded task of tracking down Scott momentarily vanished. As she wandered closer, Carrie delighted in the exquisite 1930s ornaments and trinkets overflowing from its branches. She smiled, wishing for a sleek satin evening gown, and strolled toward the bar.

Despite being a habitual single-bottle-of-beer kind of girl, tonight she’d order a dry martini, just for the hell of it.

She slid onto a vacant barstool. The bartender, dressed in a black tuxedo, white dress shirt and bow tie, was young, good-looking and currently serving an elderly couple at the end of the bar. Carrie couldn’t wipe her smile as she stared around the room. The subtle light emanating from old-fashioned lanterns cast the intimate space in a soft amber glow; the dark wood paneling, bar and stools added warmth and security. The open-topped, pristine-white piano in the far corner was the cherry to her visual cake. Heavenly.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

The bartender’s gaze darted in quick time from her face to the V of her sweater, but Carrie shook off the threat of annoyance, determined to wallow in the beauty surrounding her awhile longer. She forced a friendly smile. “Hi. Could I have a dry martini, please?”

His green eyes glinted with flirtation. “Coming right up.”

While he mixed her drink, Carrie swiveled around on her seat, her imagination on perpetual overdrive. Each and every person relaxing in the bar served as a potential character in a future TV project.

“One martini, as requested.”

She dragged her gaze from a man nearing eighty, and the woman on his arm who looked barely out of college, to face the bartender. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He grinned and the glint in his eyes grew brighter.

Carrie lifted the elegant cocktail glass and took a delicate sip. “Mmm...that’s lovely. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So...” He planted his hands on the bar and leaned closer. “Are you in the Cove visiting family for the holidays?”

She slowly replaced her glass on its coaster as wariness skittered over her skin. The less people knew about her, the easier her escape from Templeton would be. She cleared her throat and concentrated on the olive in her drink. “I’m hoping to catch up with an acquaintance. I don’t plan on being here for Christmas.”

“I see.”

She met his eyes and he lifted an eyebrow, his intense gaze roaming over her face. “Does this acquaintance know you’re here?”

She shook her head. “It’s a surprise.”

“A man, by any chance?”

Is that really any of your business? Carrie nodded. “Uh-huh.”

Disappointment flickered across his face. “Damn, that’s my hopes dashed, then.”

Carrie laughed and wiggled her left hand, showing him her wedding band, hoping the bartender would change the subject. No such luck.

“Ah, okay. Is the person you’re visiting anyone I might know?”

The lighter tone of his voice indicated his cooling flirtation as he wandered a few feet away and took some discarded glasses from the bar to stack in the washer. Feeling suddenly indecisive, Carrie studied his profile as he concentrated on his task. Her intention had been to spend an hour soaking up the nostalgic atmosphere and then head to bed so she was as refreshed as possible in the morning to start her task of finding Scott. However, putting out feelers on who he was today could prove useful.

Deciding this was too good an opportunity to waste, she sipped her drink and contemplated her next move. She guessed the bartender to be in his early twenties, probably five or six years younger than Scott. The likelihood they hung out in the same bar or place was highly probable. She hesitated. Of course, there could be trouble if the bartender saw Scott before Carrie did. Scott’s knowing she was in town and asking questions about him could easily start things off on completely the wrong foot.

She inhaled a long breath and took a leap of faith. “His name’s Scott.”

“Scott who?”

“Walker.”

Interest piqued in his gaze and he gave a slow, knowing smile. “Right.”

A flash of irritation rippled through her and Carrie quickly quashed it. How could she get mad at the implication she was a woman chasing after a past lover if in reality that’s exactly what she was? She lowered her glass. “Do you know him?”

He slammed the washer door and flicked a switch. The muted rush of running water flowed between them. He smiled and stood directly in front of her. “You know, there isn’t a woman this side of Templeton who doesn’t keep tabs on Scott. You’ll have to fight to get to the front of the queue. Not that I’ve known the guy to ever get involved with a married woman.”

Carrie glared. “And neither would I have an affair.”

The barman at least had the decency to blush. “Right. Sorry.”

“I assume you’re telling me our mutual friend likes the ladies...as long as they’re single, right?”

He grinned. “I think it’s more of a case of the ladies liking Scott, but the guy’s only human and he doesn’t turn down a good time.”

Carrie fought a scowl as her stomach knotted with unmistakable disappointment. So Scott was the man she really hoped he wouldn’t be...a man who loved them and left them. A man who most likely hadn’t lingered over their week together as she had. How could she have thought anything other than sex was on his mind during the passionate, frenzied, entirely erotic time they spent together? How could she have been so stupid to even contemplate the possibility there could have been more between them?

She swallowed. “How well do you know him?”

He shrugged. “Well enough.”

“So his reputation precedes him?”

“Something like that.”

Irritation hummed through Carrie as she took another fortifying sip of her martini. So the man who fathered her child was a player. Perfect. Despite giving herself to him on a plate three years ago, a small part of her still wanted to believe she had Scott all wrong and their time together was as much a life-changing moment for him as it was her.

Had she imagined the soft fascination she’d seen in his eyes when he looked at her? Had she really been wrong in assuming there was nowhere else he’d rather be than with her...just as she had felt about him?

Shame infused her and Carrie inhaled a deep breath, dragging up her unending tenacity. Everything would work out for the best. Belle’s beautiful face filled her mind’s eye. It had to.

She studied the bartender as he moved back and forth behind the bar, and narrowed her eyes. She cleared her throat. “So, Scott is still in Templeton?”

He came toward her and planted his hands on the bar. “If we’re talking about Scott Walker with dark hair, works out, has a smile that makes women weak at the damn knees because he’s got that whole miserable, broody thing going on...”

Carrie smiled. “Yep, that sounds like him.”

The bartender grinned. “So, you go in for misery rather than mirth, huh?”

“I’m not in for either right now. I’m in town for a few days, so I thought I’d look him up.” Carrie struggled to retain an aloof facade as her knee bounced out of control against the bar. “It’s been a while since I last saw him.”

He whipped a cloth from the waistband of his trousers and slapped it onto the bar. “Well, I might be reading things wrong here, but from where I’m standing, Scott Walker’s the only guy around here confident enough to let a woman as beautiful as you slip through his fingers, that’s for sure.”

She lowered her eyes. “Maybe.”

“Hey.”

She looked up. “What?”

The bartender’s teasing expression softened. “He’s a good guy. Scott’s just not interested in settling down, and he makes sure he doesn’t ever lead a woman on to think otherwise. He’s one of the good guys.”

Carrie nodded, fighting the urge to spit feathers. This guy actually sounded in awe of a bona fide womanizer.

“Nope. Despite his reluctance to get involved, I’ve never seen Scott treat women with anything but kindness and respect.” He winked. “If it makes you feel better, I’m sure he’ll be more than pleased to see you. I haven’t seen him with a woman for a while. He must be getting kind of lonely.”

The ill-disguised innuendo in his tone set Carrie’s teeth on edge. “Didn’t I just show you my wedding band?”

“Sure, but who wouldn’t want you turning up the week before Christmas, looking pretty enough to decorate their tree?”

Carrie glared. “I’m not here for some grandiose idea of an illicit affair. He’s...a work associate, that’s all.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”

She held his gaze. “Really.”

He studied her for a moment longer before he shrugged. “If you say so.”

Frustration and the need to stick the guy in the eye with a needle hummed through her, so Carrie took a deep breath and glanced around the bar. “So...do you know where I can find the town’s Casanova, by any chance?”

“Where he always is. He’ll be working at the shop tomorrow. I suspect he’ll be there right up to Christmas Eve. He’s a hardworking guy.” His eyes glinted with amusement. “But if he’s a work associate, shouldn’t you already know that?”

Carrie glowered. “Fine, I lied. So, what’s the shop?”

“The garage on Stiller Street. It’s his. He owns it.” He moved along the bar to serve a businessman scowling at a bottle of Scotch behind the bar like it was a mirage in the middle of the desert. “Yes, sir. What can I get you?”

Carrie studied the bartender through narrowed lids. Decorate his tree? Pleased to see me? Well, no doubt she’d soon obliterate Scott Walker’s love-’em-and-leave-’em lifestyle the minute she told him about Belle. It seemed her daughter’s biological father was about as ready to be a daddy as Santa Claus was to go on a diet.

Picking up her glass, Carrie finished the martini in a single gulp and winced against the rush of liquor. The need to flee home pulsed through her but she tamped it down. She had to find Scott or else the perpetual cloak of guilt she wore for keeping Belle a secret from him would never be discarded. How could she face Belle’s inevitable questions about her father in the future without knowing she’d done her utmost to involve him in her life?

At least the bartender’s words had lessened her fear of being as attracted to Scott today as she was when they met. Time and experience had changed Carrie in the last three years and there was little chance of her to succumbing again to a pair of deep blue eyes and a body like brick.

She stood. She’d go to bed and pray for Scott’s disinterest in both her and Belle. That would be the best Christmas present she could ask for. Tomorrow, she’d track down his garage on Stiller Street and face Scott head on. Tell him about Belle and if his attitude was as vile as she suspected it would be, she wouldn’t even have to suggest they find a mutually satisfying way of taking their parenting forward. Belle was her priority and Carrie had no interest in exposing her to some Lothario who had zero interest in being a daddy.

If he didn’t want anything to do with Belle, so be it. She hadn’t returned to Templeton on a witch-hunt.

She placed some cash from her purse onto the bar and left, renewed determination echoing in every click of her high-heeled boots against marble.

* * *

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Scott winced as the wrench he held slipped from his grasp and scraped roughly across the knuckles of his other hand, splitting his skin wide open. “Goddamn it.”

The metal tool clattered to the darkened pit floor and he kicked it against the wall in frustration. It was barely lunchtime and his concentration was shot. Snatching a rag from the car’s engine, he wrapped it around the wound and glared at the underside of the car suspended above him. How the hell was he supposed to get any work done when nothing but a blond-haired woman with the sexiest figure known to man circled his damn mind?

Just like the first time he’d seen Carrie years before, the same lightning struck him immobile. He had no idea what it was about her, or why, but Carrie’s allure was too strong to ignore. All he cared about was his family, yet this woman had the ability to make him think about the life he led before and after her. It was as though she was a pivotal part of his very existence...and he hated it.

If it was her he saw last night, then what? He had plans. Plans that didn’t involve a woman who took his damn heart and then tossed it aside.

Scowling, he braced his good hand on the top of the pit and heaved himself out onto the garage floor. She’d taken his heart, yet he couldn’t ignore the fact his reluctance to get involved meant he hadn’t made any attempt to find Carrie, either. He was equally as guilty of tossing her heart aside...if there was any chance she felt the same way he did.

Yanking open the buttons on his overalls, he shrugged them down to his waist and stalked over to the sink. He removed the rag and washed his injured hand, memories rising in his conscience. He was all too aware of his reputation as a womanizer around town and he’d done little to correct the gossip, not caring what people thought...but now, with the potential that Carrie could be back, the rumors worried him.

He turned off the faucet and replaced the rag with paper towels from the box on the wall. One by one the women he’d dated crept into his mind. None of them had hit the spot in his heart Carrie had, or even come close. So he walked away. Time and again. Did that make him a bad guy? Maybe, maybe not, but as far as Scott was concerned, he never intentionally hurt any of them.

His gut tightened. No? So why date them? Why romance them and sleep with some of them only to bail out in the end? Just like your dad when it comes down to it, aren’t you? Scott squeezed his eyes shut as one particular ex’s face rose up behind his closed lids. He’d run quicker from Amanda Arnold than he had the others. He told himself it was entirely because of Amanda’s trying and demanding personality, but the fact she had a kid too ate at his conscience.

God damn it. Who says I have to want to buy into that crap? He marched across the garage floor, his mind a mess. Was it such a damn crime if he didn’t want to add more family obligation to the mountain he already carried?

Making a snap decision, he grabbed his cell phone. He needed reinforcements. Friends and allies out in the field looking for Carrie. One way or another, he had to know if the girl he’d seen in town last night was really her. If she was, he wanted to know why the hell she was back in Templeton.

He punched in his best friend’s number.

“Hey, man.” Nick Carson yawned loudly. “What’s up?”

Scott pushed his fingers through his too-long hair and wandered around a three-foot circumference. “I need a favor.”

“Uh-oh. You sound pissed.”

“I am.”

“Because...”

“I think she might be back.”

“Who?”

“Her.”

“Her? You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“The blonde.”

“The blonde? Nope, still need more.”

Scott halted his pacing and glared. “Her. The blonde. The only woman to ever totally mess with my head. Her.”

A long moment passed before Nick sucked in a breath. “Ooohhh, her.”

Scott scowled. “Didn’t I say that clear enough the first time?”

“Hey, just take a minute, okay?”

“Take a minute?” Scott squeezed his eyes shut. “I haven’t had a single minute of head space since I almost knocked her off her feet in town last night. Jesus, Nick, you’ve got to do something.”

“I’ve got to do something? What does that mean? I never saw the woman.”

Scott stopped pacing. “You’re my friend, aren’t you? You’ve got to help me find her.”

Nick huffed out a laugh. “What’s the matter with you? Even if it was her, you’ve got enough sense to stay the hell away, right?”

Scott opened his eyes and glared toward the open garage door. Dark storm clouds gathered in the distance like an omen. Nick was right, finding her would surely lead to trouble. Trouble he didn’t need...but there was no way in hell he could let this go. He had to know if she was really Carrie. What he’d do about it if she was, he hadn’t figured out yet, but right then, not knowing ate at him from the inside out.

“Scott? Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard you.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“I’m guessing you haven’t spoken to her, so forget her.”

“How could I have spoken to her when I barely saw her?”

“Then what’s the problem here, man? If you haven’t spoken to her—”

“She smelled the same.” Scott closed one eye against the pain of his pitiful feelings.

“What?”

“She smelled the same. Exactly as I remember. Her hair is shorter but just as thick, just as pissing sexy as it was then.”

“You hear yourself, right? This is ridiculous. What is it you want me to do exactly? Come down there and put you in a damn straitjacket?”

“I’ve got plans, Nick. You know I’ve got plans.”

“Damn right I do. Plans that will make you rich after all the blood, sweat and tears you’ve put into that garage. So, what’s the problem?”

“She is. Having her turn up here.”

“I don’t understand. You’re saying if this mystery woman is the one you spent a few nights with, it changes everything? Don’t talk crap, man. This is one woman. A woman who disappeared. Who never called. I’ll be honest with you. I hope to God it isn’t her. She’s a hassle you don’t need.”

“How can either of us know that?” Protectiveness for Carrie burned like a fireball inside Scott’s chest. He clenched the phone. Memories of the way her body felt in his hands, the texture of skin as smooth as silk beneath his lips...

“Because of you. That’s how.” Nick sighed. “You love women, but you’ve never loved a woman like you did her. You fell like a shot, man. Bam! Face down on the floor with no idea how to get the hell back up. You don’t need that again. I’m telling you right now, if it’s her, get on your damn bike and leave the Cove today.”

“Sure. I’ll just run away. Don’t bother telling Mum or my sisters what I’m doing...” The click-clack of high heels yanked Scott’s head up like it was attached by a rubber band to the ceiling. He stared toward the door, his heart picking up speed.

Click, clack. Click, clack.

“Scott? You still there?” Nick’s voice filtered down the line.

Tension rippled through Scott’s body and his heart beat fast. Carrie came through the open door and halted. Their eyes locked.

Scott’s mouth drained dry. “I’ve gotta go.” He snapped the phone closed.

She stepped farther into the garage and closed her umbrella. He might have been mistaken, but he could have sworn her eyes widened as she cast her gaze over his chest. Before his ego could inflate an inch, their eyes met. God, she was beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed but her gaze steady as she clutched her purse at her stomach.

She tilted her chin. “Hello, Scott.”

That voice. He swallowed and crossed his arms, fighting a wince when his elbow knocked his injured hand. “So it was you I saw in town last night.”

She stiffened. “You saw me?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Does it matter?”

Time stood still and he cast his gaze over her face and body before he could stop himself. Desire burned and mixed with the shock pulsating through him. The atmosphere crackled, showing him all too clearly nothing had changed about his hot and crazy sexual attraction to this woman. He still wanted her, would willingly take her against the garage wall right then if she asked him.

She came closer and halted less than five feet away. He curled his hands into fists to stop from reaching for her as her gaze wandered over his face and chest, lingering at his bandaged hand before she met his eyes once more. “I have to talk to you.”

Her soft, husky voice whispered over his senses, raising every hair on his body, making his dick twitch awake as though it’d been dormant for three long years. He purposefully slammed his defenses into place. “Is that so?”

Her eyes flashed with a fire he remembered only too well when they’d been face-to-face at The Coast Inn. “Yes.” She glanced around the garage. “I’m sorry to turn up unannounced like this, but I’m here and we need to talk.”

He stared at her in disbelief as questions, demands and weaknesses hurtled around inside him, battling with the intense sexual frustration storming through his body. “Just like that, you turn up and say, ‘We need to talk’?” He shook his head and turned away from her, lest he get caught in the snare of her wide, impossibly gorgeous eyes. “Go away.”

“No.”

Keeping his back to her, he uncrossed his arms and planted his hands on his hips. He tipped his head back and smiled as insanity rushed his bloodstream. He wanted to grab her, shake her, kiss her and make love to her. God, he wanted to drop to his damn knees in front of her and beg her to tell him where she’d been and now she was back, was she back for good?

“Scott?”

He closed his eyes, barely resisting the urge to cover his ears and block out her voice, achingly laced with the unmistakable sound of a plea. “Whether you want to see me or not, I have to talk to you, and I won’t leave the Cove until you listen to me.”

Her heels clicked closer and his body tensed, waiting for what came next. The dangerous, musky scent of her perfume wafted under his nostrils and he inhaled. She approached the bench beside him and put down a business card. “My number’s on there. I’m staying at the Christie. Call me when you’re ready to talk. It’s important or I wouldn’t have come.”

He glanced at the card. Carrie Jameson. Producer.

She turned and walked away. He let her go, feeling like a smashed-up car after a hurricane, tossed and turned through the air before being spewed crudely across the highway, left to rust and burn.

He picked up the card. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Carrie was back and his libido told him only too clearly there was no way in hell he wouldn’t go to her. How was he supposed to let her leave again when he’d lived the last three years regretting he didn’t stop her the first time?

CHAPTER THREE

CARRIE LEFT THE garage and strode into the street, her legs trembling. She clasped her hand over her mouth and ducked into an alleyway. Dropping her head back against the damp brick of the building, she welcomed the heavy rain as it battered her skin.

My God, he looked...amazing.

Scott Walker was still gorgeous, sexy and alive with a fire she stupidly thought she remembered so clearly—but hadn’t remembered accurately at all. The irresistible intensity surrounding him hadn’t lessened with time. It still seeped from every pore. His inexplicable manliness appealed to her senses and scored over her skin, like nothing she’d ever known with another man. It was crazy—yet so very, very real. She closed her eyes.

God, why did I come here expecting to control the situation?

When he stood in front of her, broad chested, with grease-smeared overalls hanging loose at his hips...Carrie drew in a long breath through flared nostrils as her center shamelessly pulled. The man burned with passion. When she looked into his eyes, his shock over seeing her scorched right through her skin and deep into her heart, making her want to kiss him...comfort him. Apologize. Ask him to forgive her. But how was she supposed to talk to him about Belle and get the hell home as quickly as possible when he affected her like this?

From the dark fall of his thick hair to the shadow of stubble at his jaw and upper lip, he was so entirely masculine she couldn’t stand how weak with desire he made her. This wasn’t who she was. She was a mum. A producer. A daughter. A widow...

Confusion and shock rocketed through her and she pushed away from the wall. She needed to get a grip. This was about Belle. Not her. Not Scott. There was no way she’d leave Templeton and go back home without doing what she came to do, so she’d better find a way to deal with his pull on her and find it quickly. She couldn’t let her fear of Scott’s potential to take her as easily as he did the first time change the reality he was Belle’s father. And she’d promised herself she’d tell Scott the truth.

Smoothing the front of her coat, she hitched her belt tighter and inhaled the moist winter air. Belle was growing and growing fast. Carrie could scarcely believe this was her daughter’s third Christmas. God, she should have done this months ago—why had it taken Gerard’s death to make her take responsibility for her actions?

Because I’m a coward. Because I was scared of this. Scared that I’d still be as attracted to Scott today as I was then. Scared that the suspicion in Gerard’s eyes whenever I spoke of Scott would be proven justified. Scared I would have to accept what Gerard knew all along...Scott matters to me.

Carrie’s tears slipped from beneath her closed lids and trickled a warm path down her icy cheeks. Gerard was a brave man. A selfless, wise and mature man. Her antithesis and, as far as she could tell, Scott’s too. Hence why she’d taken over a year to grieve and gather the strength to get through what she now had to do alone. Carrie shook her head. She’d convinced herself the time was right because with the time that had passed since she’d seen Scott, surely her attraction would be gone, obliterated by a loving marriage and a beautiful child teaching her so much about motherhood.

But no. It was still there, maybe burning more dangerously than before because this time she and Scott had a child together. The potential was there to know each other for the rest of their lives; to be side by side at Belle’s parent-teacher interviews, birthday parties, Christmas holidays...

Oh, God. Carrie paced left and right as though looking for an escape as the alley’s walls closed in on her. I have to take control. Arranging for Scott to see Belle at some point in the future is all that matters here. He doesn’t want me. He’s never wanted me. I have to remember that. If he felt half of what I felt, we would have found a way to be together. She gave a curt nod and swiped at her face as sanity returned.

She glared toward the opening of the alleyway and belatedly opened her umbrella. Her carefully styled hair now hung in limp rats’ tails down her back. The next move was Scott’s, and she’d learn to be patient. There was nothing else to be done today. It was only fair she gave him a little time.

She exited the alley and, at the entrance, cast a glance toward the garage. She half expected him to be standing in the doorway, watching her with those midnight-blue eyes. The area in front of the garage was achingly empty.

Ignoring the jab in her chest that felt far too much like disappointment, Carrie dragged up the courage she needed if she had any hope of getting her mission done. Gripping her umbrella in front of her face against the wind and rain, she hurried along the road that would take her back to High Street. The rain hammered on her umbrella, matching the chaos screaming inside her.

The welcome sight of a bakery with lights burning through the cottage-style windows came into view. Tinsel and baubles glinted and twinkled behind the glass, beckoning Carrie inside. She yanked her umbrella closed and stepped gratefully through the door.

The bakery was deserted. Not a single customer sat at the pine tables or booths to keep her company...or better still, keep her hidden from observation. Yet, the smells were as close to heaven as a girl could get, and Carrie firmly closed the door. She’d enjoy a cup of coffee and then head back to the hotel.

Scott had twenty-four hours to contact her before she’d return to the garage and confront him a second time. He might have shaken her today, but she was determined that wouldn’t happen tomorrow.

She fluffed her hair that was already beginning to frizz and met the gaze of the woman standing behind the counter. She had a welcoming smile, but Carrie was shrewd enough to recognize the baker’s intense appraisal.

Carrie planted on a smile and approached the counter. “Hi.”

The woman’s gaze softened. “Good afternoon, lovely. What can I get you?”

Inexplicable warmth replaced the chill in Carrie’s bones that had bothered her every second since seeing Scott. She dropped her tense shoulders. “A cappuccino would be great. Thank you.”

“Anything else? I have freshly baked Christmas cookies and sweet mince pies, too.”

Carrie dragged her gaze from the woman’s sparkling brown eyes and looked through the pane of the glass-covered display counter. Her stomach grumbled with insistent demand. Every Christmas cookie imaginable was laid out on red, gold and green trays. Iced cakes and chocolate éclairs, grinning marshmallow snowmen and sparkling angel biscuits cruelly arranged and made purposely impossible to resist.

She sighed as her diet vanished...again. “Why not?” She smiled. “I’ll have one of the Santa cookies.”

The baker beamed with satisfaction. “Good choice. Why don’t you take a seat and get out of your wet coat? I’ll bring your coffee and cookie over in two ticks.”

“Thank you.” Carrie looked around before heading for the booth farthest away from the counter. She took off her coat, tossed it over the seat and slid close to the window. Rain slid in continuous zigzags down the glass, blurring the view of the street. She pulled her cell phone from her bag and hovered her finger over her mother’s number. She longed to hear Belle’s voice but knew it would be pathetic to call again so soon. She’d only left her at her parents’ house the day before. If she was going to do what she came to do, she had to be strong.

Yet, as strong and succinct as she was in her working life, Carrie couldn’t remember a time she’d felt so alone since burying Gerard. Seeing Scott again had not only evoked dormant sexual yearning, it had brought on an explosion of further guilt and betrayal toward Gerard. How was she going to handle these conflicting emotions? Heat rose in her face. She was a horrible, horrible person.

The soft brush of approaching footsteps broke through her melancholy and Carrie looked up. The woman from behind the counter placed Carrie’s cappuccino on the table, followed by a brightly decorated Christmas plate donning her grinning Santa cookie.

The baker slid onto the opposite seat and set down her teacup before meeting Carrie’s gaze. “I’m Marian. Welcome to Templeton.” She offered her hand and glanced toward the window. “I promise the Cove isn’t always this gray and damp.”

Carrie shook Marian’s hand and smiled. “Carrie Jameson, and I know just how sunny Templeton can be. You have a beautiful town.”

“We do...and a lot of visitors.”

Carrie tensed and braced herself for whatever was coming next. Marian might appear friendly but her gaze was dark with curiosity. Small towns, more often than not, equaled little anonymity.

Marian lifted a brow. “So you know Templeton? I don’t remember seeing you around here before.”

Carrie took a sip of her coffee and its delicious rich and chocolaty taste slid warm and comforting down her throat. “That’s because the last time I was here, coffee was way down on the agenda.”

“Want to tell me what was on the agenda...and when?”

“You’re not very backward in coming forward, are you?” Carrie struggled to fight her smile.

Marian grinned. “Nope. If you’re here to stay for the holidays and like your coffee, you’ll soon get to know me and realize how keen I am to know who’s who in town. I love Templeton as much as I love my George. I like to know who everyone is.”

“Well, as delicious as your coffee is, I won’t be here for the holidays. I was here a while ago on a weekend trip with friends.” Carrie smiled wryly. “Although, that seems a lifetime ago now.”

Marian frowned. “But you had a good time?”

Far too good. Carrie forced a smile. “Yes. Templeton’s lovely.”

“So you like the Cove, but you’re not here for the holidays.” Marian frowned. “Are you here on some unfinished business?”

Despite Marian’s unabashed interrogation, Carrie warmed to this gray-haired baker with soft, motherly curves and keen inquisitiveness. She glanced toward the window. “I’m here to deliver a message. Then I’ll be heading straight home.”

“I see.” Marian raised her teacup to her lips, her gaze steady above the rim. “And I guess by the sudden hint of sadness in your eyes, the recipient of this message is a man.”

Carrie’s wavering defenses slotted back into place. “Maybe.”

Marian grinned. “There’s no maybe about it. What’s his name?”

“You don’t give up easily, do you?” Carrie raised an eyebrow.

“Nope.”

“I don’t like to be rude, but I’d rather not say.”

Marian’s smile dissolved, but she shrugged good-naturedly. “Fair enough.”

They lapsed into silence and Carrie watched Marian as she drank. For some reason, she could imagine her in a big, dusty bookshop, browsing the shelves and gossiping. Although, she suspected the baker’s laughter was a loud boom rather than a snigger and might not be too welcome in a bookshop. Yet, Carrie would bet money it was a laugh that people loved.

She shook off her burgeoning fondness for this woman and looked toward the window. She had to be on her guard and not get drawn into any semblance of friendship while she was there. One look into Scott’s eyes told Carrie the man was private. Guarded. She wasn’t entirely different. The last thing she wanted was to inadvertently add more fuel to an already burning fire by spreading their business all over town.

The bell over the door announced a new arrival and Carrie darted her gaze to the entrance. The man who came in was tall with blond hair and a fit, athletic physique. He ran his hand over his short-cropped hair and looked to Marian. His face broke into a wide smile. “There she is. One of the usual when you’re ready, my darling.”

“Can’t you see I’m having a sit-down? Come here and meet Carrie. She’s in town visiting awhile.”

Carrie inwardly grimaced. She didn’t want any more people knowing her name. She’d been in Templeton less than twenty-four hours and it seemed everyone was far too keen to introduce themselves to her...thus forcing her to be civil in return.

The man strode forward, his head bent as he shrugged out of his jacket. He looked up, and the moment he met Carrie’s eyes, he drew to a sharp stop. “Oh, no. You’re blonde.”

Carrie glanced from his wide-eyed stare to Marian and back again. “So are you.”

He glared. “Not funny. You’re new in town and you’re blonde.”

Marian shifted in her seat. “What’s the matter with you, Nick? That’s no way to say hello to a lady the first time you meet. Now show some manners. This is Carrie Jameson.” She smiled at Carrie. “Carrie, this is Nick Carson, Templeton’s resident superstar DJ.”

Carrie held out her hand despite her unease. “Nice to meet you.”

Nick stared at her with open dislike. He took her hand in his but instead of shaking and releasing, he held it firmly. “Are you in town to see Scott Walker, by any chance?”

Shock caught Carrie’s breath in her throat and she snatched her hand from his. She shot her gaze to Marian. “I’d better go. It was nice—”

“Have you seen him yet?”

Nick’s demand turned her head and Carrie narrowed her eyes, her spine rigid. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I really need to go.” She shimmied along the seat and stood.

He crossed his arms. “Scott doesn’t need any trouble. Why don’t you go back to wherever it is you’ve come from and leave the man in peace? He’s got plans. Plans that don’t need altering.”

Irritation flared like a lit flint behind her ribcage and Carrie glared, grateful to vent some frustration on this arrogant idiot...all semblance of friendliness vanishing. “Is that so? Well, unfortunately for Scott, plans change...but, believe me, I’ll do my utmost to make sure his life, and mine, stay just the way they are.”

“So you are her. The blonde who’s going to mess up his head again.”

“Will you stop calling me ‘the blonde’? I have a name, you know.” She snatched up her coat and turned her back to him as she buttoned it, yanking the belt tight.

“He’s made a good life for his family. Why are you here? What do you want from him?”

His family. Scott’s married? Has kids? Carrie opened her mouth, but no words formed as her heart thundered. Oh, God. Why didn’t I consider he could have a family?

Marian cleared her throat. “I’m not sure what’s crawled into Nick’s backside and turned him into a Neanderthal, Carrie, but please don’t hurry off on account of his lack of manners. If anyone should be leaving my bakery right now, it’s him.”

Carrie turned as Nick’s words reverberated in her mind. Trepidation gnawed at her stomach. Scott could have a wife. He could be a father to other children. Why had she not thought about that? Why hadn’t she thought about his life, period?

She looked at Nick and his anger permeated the air between them. She clutched the strap of her bag to hide her trembling. “I don’t want anything from Scott. You can think what you want, but I came to Templeton to tell him something important and then I’m leaving. Why don’t you do me a favor and tell him that, okay?” Carrie looked to Marian who glared at Nick’s profile. “It was nice meeting you, Marian.”

“You too, sweetheart.”

“Where are you going now?” he demanded.

“None of your business.” Carrie faced Marian once more and smiled. “Thanks for the coffee. Maybe I’ll see you again before I leave.”

She nodded, still glaring at Nick. “Make sure you do.”

Carrie snatched her umbrella from the stand and threw open the door. She walked out into the rain, her heart racing and her chin high. Nick Carson’s animosity had done her more good than he could imagine. It had made her more prepared and given her prior warning of Scott’s life now.

The biggest worry was, if he had other children, would he want Belle more than she could have anticipated...or would he completely reject her? He might not want another child. Carrie’s stomach dropped. What if he was married when they spent those crazy, lust-fuelled days together? Was his wife away on business? Is that why they never left her hotel room?

“Oh, God.” Heat burned her face and in her chest. Had she slept with another woman’s husband? Partner?

Sickness rolled through her. She might have kept Belle a secret from Scott for longer than she should have, but infidelity? Being the other woman? No, no, no.

She exhaled a shaky breath as further shame engulfed her. Before the possibility of Scott already being a father came to the table, a father who was present in his children’s lives, things had been laced with a romantic ideal in her mind. She had to face the truth that she had come back to the Cove as much to find out about her feelings for him as she had for Belle’s sake.

She would tell him about Belle then leave. If he loved and provided for his existing children, the chances were he’d want to love Belle, too. Carrie worried her bottom lip. Would she have to deal with a wife who’d lived in marital bliss, only to now find out her husband had created a baby with a past lover?

Carrie vehemently shook her head. She had to believe Scott was single when he slept with her. She had to or everything had just gotten a whole lot messier. She strode along the street, her head spinning. What confused her was Scott’s intensity seemed no different today than when she’d met him years before, and wouldn’t children soothe him? Belle had certainly softened Carrie’s need to work twenty-four-seven. Carrie now preferred instead to spend time at home doing close to nothing as long as she was with her daughter.

What was going on with Scott that his children hadn’t healed the hurt she had sensed when they lay side-by-side, skin-to-skin in a hotel room?

Carrie narrowed her eyes. She wouldn’t go there. The reasons behind his state of mind weren’t her problem. Since losing Gerard, her resolve had strengthened more than any stranger would detect on the surface. Any man worth their salt should learn and learn quickly, never mess with a mother protecting her child. Ever.

* * *

STANDING TOE-TO-TOE with Nick in the garage office, Scott’s anger poured into his blood, making his chest constrict with the overwhelming need to punch Nick clean in the face for the first time in their twenty-year friendship. “What the hell do you mean you faced her off? What did you think you were doing?”

Nick planted his hands on hips. “I was looking out for you, that’s what. She’s trouble. I saw it in her eyes. Whatever it is she wants from you, she won’t be going anywhere until she’s got it. Why would you even want to find out what that is? Just use some common sense and stay the hell away from her. If she finds you, shut the door in her face.”

“You had no damn right.”

“I had every right. I’m your friend and it was you who called me, remember? You asked for my help, and I’m not going to sit back and let her walk all over you a second time.”

“I asked you to help me find her, not find her and get in her face.”

“She was there. I did what I had to do.”

“God damn it, Nick.” Scott shoved his hand into his hair as he scrambled for the right words. “The woman meant something to me.”

“Yeah? You never went after her though, did you?”

Scott glared, words failing him. He hadn’t gone after Carrie for fear of the unknown. He didn’t want commitment...and after their amazing time together, he couldn’t risk hurting her. He’d let her go because he couldn’t promise her anything. A woman like Carrie deserved to be promised the world.

Nick’s shoulders slumped. “Look, she might be back...but this time she’s wearing a wedding band. I’m sorry, man. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

Shock struck Scott’s chest. She’s married and come back looking for me? What the hell does she think she’s doing? He shrugged as he struggled to maintain some semblance of nonchalance. “Well, if she’s married, this isn’t about us hooking up again then, is it? At the end of the day, this is between me and her, not you.” Scott moved to walk past him but Nick gripped his arm. Scott scowled. “What?”

“If she isn’t here to hook up with you, what the hell is she here for?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Then I did the right thing by sending her on her way. Whichever way you look at this, her turning up can only mean grief.”

Scott pulled his arm from Nick’s grasp. “Whatever... You still shouldn’t have gone off at her.”

Nick glared. “So we don’t watch each other’s backs anymore? Will you listen to yourself? She clearly gave you a better time than any other woman has in months. What’s going on with you?”

Scott screwed his eyes shut. “I have to see her.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? She’s married.”

Scott opened his eyes and clenched his jaw as he searched for the reason why he battled the overwhelming urge to sprint from the garage and track Carrie down. It was an answer he didn’t have. All he knew was as soon as she stood in front of him, he wanted to kiss her, touch her, make love to her and have her smile at him in the same soft, sexy way she had when she was in bed with him before.

He shook his head, snatched his keys off his desk and pointed them toward the door. “You need to go.”

“What?”

Their gazes locked as Scott’s blood roared in his ears. “If you think she walked all over me last time, we’ve nothing else to say to each other. How could she have walked all over me when we were barely together more than a few days, huh? What happened after she left has nothing to do with her. Don’t you get that? It was me who hit bottom. It wasn’t her fault.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “So you’re going back for more of the same?”

“I have to know why she’s back.”

“No, you don’t. You want to. What is it about this girl? Sure, she’s pretty but God, man, it’s like she’s got hold of your damn dick.”

Frustration coursed through Scott on a vibrating wave. He had no clue what it was that burned like an inferno between him and Carrie Jameson. The only thing he was sure of was the same shock mixed with desire had gleamed in her gaze at the garage as it had when she took his hand and led him from The Coast Inn straight to her hotel room.

Scott brushed past Nick. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s up to me to deal with, not you.” He pulled open the office door and waved. “After you.”

“You’re going to see her right now, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” Nick raised his hands in surrender. “Do what you have to do. I’ll be at the bar when you need a drink. Something tells me that will be sooner rather than later.”

Nick marched out the door, his feet banging down the iron steps and through the garage. Scott refused to allow his friend’s judgment to seep into his blood and make him resent Carrie when she’d done nothing wrong. She’d promised him nothing. He had to see her.

Locking the door behind him, Scott hurried down the steps and through the garage. He drew together the two iron doors and padlocked them before pocketing the keys in his jeans. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the collar of his leather jacket and, with his head bent against the wind and rain, jogged toward town.

The townspeople were out in their numbers as Christmas Day approached with a rapidity Scott couldn’t think about right then. Some faces etched with happiness, others with stress—there was no avoiding the holidays would soon be here and Scott was far from prepared. He passed the temporary ice rink that was set up in the town square every year.

The sound of the kids’ laughter and their joyful expressions as they whizzed around the rink did nothing to appease Scott’s trepidation. It seemed a lifetime ago when he was carefree enough at Christmastime to spend it at the rink.

Forcing his gaze ahead, he pounded the distance and, with each hundred yards, his adrenaline slowed and his mind leveled. The gold-and-bronze canopy of the Christie Hotel came into view. Slowing to a walk, he nodded to the doorman and passed through the revolving door into the hotel’s lobby. It was a fancy, old-fashioned place. Not necessarily to his taste, but that didn’t prevent the image of Carrie, dressed in a column of sapphire silk and killer heels, from filtering through his mind.

Once again, his dick twitched awake and his blood heated. Even the knowledge she was married didn’t cool his physical need to make love to her again. Her hair, her eyes...those damn, sexy legs covered with sheer black stockings. Never before had a woman held him so quickly and so strongly in her snare. Thoughts of her with another man, and married, caused a lash of inexplicable pain in his chest—a pain so much worse than the surges of jealousy that had torn through him for months after she left whenever he imagined her with another man.

He lifted his chin and shoved his thoughts into submission. He glanced around the hotel lobby and smiled wryly. Yep, the place suited her perfectly. Carrie had that whole Hollywood golden age thing going on. A woman with good curves in all the right places. Rita Hayworth, Jane Russell...He breathed deep and smiled. Real women.

He approached the front desk. The stout, English butler–type manager wore the air of a king overseeing his subjects. He met Scott’s eyes with casual indifference. “Good afternoon, sir. May I help you?”

Scott cleared his throat. “Good afternoon. I believe a Carrie Jameson is staying here. Could you please phone her room and ask her to meet me in the lobby?”

“Your name, sir?”

“Walker. Scott Walker.”

“One moment, please.”

The desk manager picked up the phone and Scott turned, his nerves jumping and his shoulders tense. He looked to his left at a group of suited businessman and grimaced. His idea of hell would be having to wake up each morning and get trussed up in a suit and tie to work behind a damn desk all day. He looked to his right...

Carrie stood watching him. Her shoulders and chest rose as she took a deep breath and strode toward him. He pushed away from the desk. “Don’t worry. I found her.”

“Sorry, sir?” The desk manager coughed behind him.

“She’s here. No need to try her room.” Scott moved away from the desk, and he and Carrie came to a stop in the middle of the lobby. He stared, his gaze roaming over her hair to her face, lower to exquisite collarbones and smooth skin above breasts concealed beneath a red shirt—and, God help him, the revealed edge of a red satin bra.

“You came.” Her words whispered from between scarlet-painted lips. “Thank you.”

He met her eyes. “I’m sorry about Nick.”

She smiled softly. “You know about that?”

“He came to me straight afterward.” Unable to resist, he glanced at her hands clenched together in front of her. Her wedding band glinted. He met her eyes, his heart beating fast. “The man can be an ass, but he’s only trying to look out for me.”

“I got that.” She broke eye contact and waved toward some seats to the side of them. “Shall we—”

“Why are you here, Carrie?”

A faint stain colored her cheeks. “Why don’t we sit down?” She glanced around. “I don’t want to do this standing up with everyone watching.”

“Why does it matter?” He clenched his jaw. “Does your husband know you’ve come to Templeton? That you’re here now? With me?”

Her color darkened and her gaze blazed with anger. “My husband has nothing to do with this. I’m sitting down. You can either join me or go. I’m not talking about this for everyone else’s entertainment.”

Scott glared after her as she stormed away. He hesitated as his gut churned with indecision. Whatever she had to tell him couldn’t be good, but how the hell could he walk away without knowing what brought her back to Templeton? Not knowing would haunt him for the rest of his damn life.

Cursing, he pulled back his shoulders and strode across the lobby to where she sat at a low table, smoothing her hands up and down the length of her denim-clad thighs. He slid into the seat opposite her, his gaze once again flitting to the shiny gold wedding band on her ring finger. God, he was grateful for the table between them. A table that acted as a boulder. A boulder he deemed necessary if his urge to touch another man’s wife was anything to go by.

He met her eyes. “Okay, I’m listening.”

Her gaze bored into his before she dropped her attention to her lap. Her hands were clamped so tightly together, her knuckles showed white. Scott shifted in his seat. No part of him was used to making women uncomfortable or fearful. He wasn’t a monster and he refused to let Carrie make him feel that way.

He reached across the table and took her hand. She flinched and her head snapped up. Her dark brown eyes were wide with caution. “What?”

“Whatever you have to tell me, just say it.”

Time stood still.

Dread seeped into his veins, making him want to lunge forward and wrap his arms around her—whether in a bid to comfort or silence her, he couldn’t be sure.

Tears leaped into her eyes and her hand trembled in his grasp. “I had a baby, Scott. Your baby.”

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