If she had to say this, she couldn’t look at him. “When I turned twelve, my father left us. My mother was a drug addict, and he couldn’t take the stress anymore. I don’t blame him. If given a choice, I’d have left, too.”
“He left you with a mother who couldn’t provide for you?”
She hesitated, nodding.
“She had a job, but she spent all her money on drugs.
When I was thirteen, a family friend gave me work, helping him at his convenience store. If not for him, I would have starved to death. He rented us an apartment over his store for cheap, taking the fee out of my paycheck.”
“Christ,” he murmured. His grip tightened on her hand.
“That must have been so hard for a kid your age to handle.”
She rubbed her forehead. “Well, yeah. It was. I hid all the money I earned, so my mom wouldn’t steal it for drugs. She’d get so mad at me when I refused to give her the cash. She had a mean right hook.”
Damon clenched his fists. “I didn’t know.”
“I’m not done yet,” she blurted. She needed him to hear this. To understand why she couldn’t let him in. “When I was sixteen, she ran away with all the money I’d saved. I had nothing for rent. Nothing for food. I ended up getting another job waitressing. Between the two jobs and high school, I didn’t sleep much. I got scholarships, went to college. All my life, I’ve been on my own.”
He shook his head and leaned back against the car seat.
“You’re amazing. You know that?”
“No,” she breathed. She dropped her forehead into her palm. Tears blurred her vision. “I’m really not. I’m broken and I can’t love anyone. I can’t get close to another person— can’t let them in. No one. Not friends, not family…not you.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
She closed her eyes. “Because I won’t give in.” So he could stop the Saturday dates, stop the charming smiles, stop…everything. Just stop, now that he knew how broken she was. “I won’t fall in love. Love is weak and fleeting. I can’t rely on it.”
“Then don’t,” he answered, capturing her hand. “But you can rely on me. We might not be in love, but I promise you that I’m here, whenever you need me.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, avoiding his eyes.
“I do.” After giving her hand one last squeeze, he let go. She missed his warmth the instant he released her. And worse yet, she missed his support. His excited tone rang false.
“We’re almost there. Ready for part two of our date?”
She tried to dredge up some of her previous excitement, and shoved the encounter with her mother from her mind.
“Where are we going?”
“A hotel.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Really? Do you think getting me in a room alone will help you win me over? I assure you, I have more control than that.”
“We will share a room, but with separate sleeping quarters. There will be more to our stay than sleeping.”
God, he’d actually admitted that he meant to seduce her.
Even worse, her traitorous bitch of a body quivered at the thought. “Damon, I told you—”
“You misread my intentions,” he said. “Patience, my dear.
You will see our destination soon enough.”
“Are we spending the night?” she asked, and fidgeted with her jacket.
“Yes. I booked the honeymoon suite.” He smoothed his hair. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”
“Mmhm. What about your, uh…” She fretted her hands.
“…’meeting’ you always have on Sunday?”
He tensed, cheeks flushing as he tugged at his tie. “I’ll still make it on time.”
“Maybe you could skip it this week?”
His eyes darted away from hers and focused somewhere over her head. “No. I can’t.”
“Oh. Right.” She bit her lip—and her tongue. She would not ask what he did every Sunday. She had pride. Self-esteem.
Not to mention control of her emotions. “Where do you go?”
Son of a bitch.
“To visit a friend,” he mumbled. Pointing out the window, he flashed a tight smile. “Oh, look! We’re here!”
Her heart plummeted. What had she really expected him to say, though? Theirs wasn’t a real marriage, but it would still break man-code if he admitted he had a mistress. Feigning excitement, she bent low to look out his window. A grandiose hotel loomed high into the sky, more elegant than any building she’d ever seen.
Awe was a light and airy thing inside her chest. “Wow,”
she breathed. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It is,” he agreed. She glanced his way and found his attention not on the building, but on her. The longing and desire in his eyes knotted a fist of tension to her stomach, clenching her tightly in its grasp. Why did he look at her like that when he had a relationship with someone else? How could he?
His hot gaze left her mouth dry. They parked at the entrance and she read the billboard on the sidewalk.
Her eyes widened as she skimmed over the announcements. Spinning to face him, she laughed. “No! You didn’t!”
“Oh, I certainly did. We’re going to a ball,” he announced.
“I do believe I owe you a waltz.”
“Oh! And it’s a costume ball. That’s what is in the garment bags, isn’t it? Costumes?” She jumped out of the car.
This would be the best date ever.
He strode to her side, his arm brushing hers. “I see you’re happy with my surprise.”
“Happy?” She launched herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. He held her close to his chest. Drawing back, she looked up into his eyes.
There it was again. The desire. An answering need rose within her, refusing to be denied any longer. Burning inside her, reaching higher and higher. Her resistance was crumbling at an alarming rate. She gritted her teeth. No, damn it. She couldn’t give in to temptation.
Clearing her throat, she extricated herself from his arms and whispered, “Thank you.”
He gave her a smoldering look, his fingers flexing at his sides, but offered his arm and escorted her inside.
…
Damon tugged at his cravat, casting a covert glance in Johanna’s direction. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks flushed, but she gripped his elbow tightly. She looked absolutely ravishing in her eighteenth-century ball gown. Her muslin dress was topped with a dusty rose print, which split down the front to reveal the under layer of pink. The dress’s neckline left little to the imagination. He forced his gaze away, as a proper gentleman should.