The Billionaire's Lockdown Baby Page 7

  If she’d been able to, I knew what she would have told me.

  “Sit tight? Where do you think I’m going, Damon? Out dancing?”

  The problem being that she could barely breathe right now. And it was my job to get out there and save her, not sit around here thinking of what she might have said if she’d had the air to do it.

  Keep your body perpendicular to the current, my mind told me. Go in sideways. Use the stable water to get out there, grab her, then turn around and get back to shore. Keep her on her back so her mouth is out of the water. Kick like you’ve never kicked before.

  Right. It was the standard set of instructions for saving anyone from a rip current. Stay away from the undertow that had grabbed them and you should be okay. The problem being that the water at the surface was trying desperately to get toward shore while I would be trying to get away from it—and to Aubrey.

  I just had to swim sideways, across the tide, and keep myself perpendicular. Then get her and pull her out of the undertow and bring her with me.

  No problem.

  It never occurred to me to ask myself whether I could do it. That was my Aubrey out there, and I wasn’t planning to let her go.

  Period.

  * * *

  I was halfway back to shore before I started to freak out. Because I was getting tired fast, and I could still feel the tide below my feet, trying to drag us back out into the ocean. On top of that, swimming sideways with another person’s weight attached to you is a lot harder than you might realize.

  Not that I was complaining. Because I had Aubrey, and she was safe.

  She was also, by that time, breathing better and struggling to take care of herself. As usual.

  I held on tighter and kicked like my life depended on it, finally getting to where I could touch the sand. After dragging Aubrey up onto the dry land, I set her down and immediately began checking her over.

  “Is your breathing okay?” I asked, looking into her eyes for any sign of concussion.

  No, a concussion isn’t something you normally worry about in someone who’s just almost drowned. But I was going to check every vital I knew how to after what she’d just been through.

  “It’s fine,” she said, struggling to get up. “I’m fine, Damon. Really.”

  Gently but firmly, I pushed her back to a sitting position.

  “And you’ll forgive me if I want to make sure that’s true before I let you get back up. I’m not going to let you go running off when you’ve just almost drowned, Aubrey. You’re too important to me for that. I’m not going to sit here and let you die on my watch. I would never be able to forgive myself.”

  She stilled very suddenly at that, and looked at me with her entire heart in her eyes.

  “What?” she breathed.

  I bit my lip, trying to remember exactly what I’d said. Had it been something wrong? Something that had made her think even worse of me?

  Then I remembered. No, that wasn’t it. It had been me giving far too much away.

  And on top of that, another thought: if giving far too much away made her look at me like I had just told her the most amazing thing in the entire world… was it really something I wanted to take back? Or was it something I maybe should have done a long time ago?

  “You’re too important to me,” I repeated, my voice dropping to a near whisper as I realized how true those words were. “I’m not going to watch you go out there and risk your life again just because you’re mad at me. Not when I’ve just realized… I’ve just realized…”

  She tipped her head, her eyes narrowing just a bit, as if unsure as to how she felt about my bumbling. “You’ve just realized what?”

  Well, if we were going all in for the truth…

  “I’m starting to realize how wrong I was when I said what I said in the kitchen, to start with,” I admitted. “When I said—”

  Her chin came up a bit and her face suddenly went a whole lot colder than it had been.

  Like I’d just found a way into her heart—just found a way through the walls she’d built up around herself—and then that pathway had suddenly closed.

  “You mean when you told me that it didn’t mean anything that we’d slept together, and that we should just move on and pretend that it hadn’t happened? You mean when you implied that I didn’t mean anything more than any other girl you’d brought home for the night? Like I’m some girl who does that all the time? Like I’m some girl who can’t possibly have real feelings for you, and like you couldn’t possibly have real feelings for me back?”

  Her voice was tinged with anger, and I drew back a little bit, surprised.

  “No, that’s not what I meant at all. I was just saying—”

  “No,” she said, cutting me off. “Of course not. Because of course you didn’t put any thought into what you said before you said it. You were already too busy with something else by the time I found my way into that kitchen—and therefore too busy to think about what you said before you said it.

  “And why would you? Why would you bother to think of all the ways you’ve actually hurt me? You’re Damon Parker, and you’re far too important for that. Which is exactly why I have to leave. Thanks for saving me, boss, but this doesn’t change anything. I’m still moving as soon as we get back to Hawaii. I have to get away from you.”

  She got to her feet and did just that, stumbling away from me as quickly as she could, tripping on the sand in her hurry—and leaving me literally sitting in the dust.

  Chapter 15

  Aubrey

  I got back to my room as quickly as I could, given how hard it was to see through the tears in my eyes, and immediately started stripping out of my bikini.

  Furious. I was freaking furious.

  I’d been swimming since before I could walk. I was more at home in the water than I was on solid ground, most of the time, and definitely more at home with fish than I was with people. I mean, not that I didn’t like people, but fish were a whole lot less complicated, if you know what I mean? They generally didn’t expect conversation. And they almost never put you into sticky situations that required thinking on your feet or getting out of twisty emotional problems.

  Which was exactly what Damon was doing to me. Which was exactly why I was so furious. I was a champion when it came to the water, and yet there I’d been, so stuck and exhausted that I hadn’t thought I was going to make it—and so relieved to see him that I would probably have started crying if I’d been capable of it at the time.

  So relieved to see Damon freaking Parker swimming out to save me.

  And then so, so angry that it had been necessary at all—and that he was the one doing it.

  But that wasn’t even the main thing here, I told myself, taking a deep breath and putting a hand up to wipe at the angry tears streaming down my face. I had to remember that there was no shame in the situation. Not really.

  I’d been in the water too much, and for too long, to take a little thing like drowning all that seriously. It had happened before, just like it had happened before for anyone who spent as much time in the water as I did. And the thing I’d learned a long time ago was… well, first off, there was no crying in surfing, and secondly, if you got hurt or almost drowned, you had to get to the shore, shake it off, and get right back into the water. Fail to do that and you would get too freaked out about it. Talk yourself out of ever getting out there on the water again. You’d get into your head too much and get weird about the whole thing.

  But Damon. Oh yes, Damon, and his insane need to not only play hero but then suddenly decide to come clean about what he’d done that morning in his kitchen, after one of the most amazing—and also, stupid and badly advised—nights of my life.

  I narrowed my eyes as I remembered him saying that it had been a mistake and that we should really just forget about it. Then I turned and hurled my bikini—wet, and therefore heavier than usual—against the wall.

  It hit the wall with a wet splat and then fell to the tiled fl
oor. And I left it where it had fallen, stalking toward the bathroom that was attached to my room and trying to sort through my feelings.

  Because the moment the bikini hit the floor, I had sagged as well, realizing that it wasn’t fury that was driving my actions.

  It was hurt.

  I was still hurt that Damon had been so freaking callous. At how much he just acted like it didn’t matter. Like that sort of thing happened all the time.

  Because it had mattered to me. And that sort of thing didn’t happen all the time in my life. I almost never slept with the guy that I’d secretly been in love with for five years.

  I mean… well, if you wanted to be completely honest about it, I had never slept with a guy I’d secretly been in love with for years. Damon had been my first.

  And then he’d acted like it didn’t matter. And it had shattered my heart. Honestly, it had been a big part of the reason for accepting Josh’s job offer. But what had happened out there on the beach…

  For a moment, I’d looked up into Damon’s eyes, my lungs still burning with saltwater, and seen something there that I’d never seen before. I’d seen right into him, like he’d finally taken back the curtain that he always kept between himself and the rest of the world. And I’d thought that he actually cared about me.

  I’d expected some sort of real apology, where he told me why he’d done what he’d done, and maybe even said how he hadn’t meant it. How finally being with me had been a dream come true and something he’d never realized he always wanted, and how he wanted to be a couple and try this whole thing on.

  Or something slightly less corny, because I couldn’t actually imagine him saying any of that.

  But still. I’d thought that he was going to say something that made it all okay.

  And he almost had. He’d been so close. I could feel it.

  Then he’d started rambling, and it had become just another excuse. Just another exercise in charm as he tried to make up for something he’d done in the past. Just another blow-off.

  I was tired of them. And I was finished with putting up with them.

  And now I knew that I absolutely, positively couldn’t put myself in any more positions where he had a chance to get my hopes up like he had on the beach. This whole thing was already hard enough without going through that additional heartbreak.

  I hadn’t wanted to move to Australia. But I was right to do it, because it was the only way I was going to get away from Damon for good. It was the right decision.

  I just had to make it through this trip to Saipan first. Then get home, pack, and get on that plane to Sydney as quickly as possible.

  * * *

  When I got out of the shower and opened the door to my bedroom, famished and in dire need of calories, I was smacked right in the face with the most delicious smell I’d ever experienced.

  And I mean smacked. Not just gently caressed or enticed. Smacked. Like, I actually took three steps backward, the smell was so intense.

  By the time I got through the door and into the living room, I was drooling, and my stomach was growling.

  What was going on in here? Had we somehow managed to get an in-house chef despite the drama of the volcano? Had someone randomly shown up to sell us—from what I could tell—something that contained not only garlic and onions, but also tomatoes and basil?

  When I got around the bend and saw Damon in the kitchen, I got knocked back a couple steps again. He was bending over to reach into the oven, his incredible behind on full display, and beyond that, I could see well-muscled arms, and those strong hands… enveloped in oven mitts.

  Wait.

  Damon Parker was… cooking?

  I tipped my head, confused. I didn’t even think he could boil water on his own—why would he, when he could pay someone else to do it for him? And yet here he was… actually well-versed enough in the kitchen to be able to make something that required the oven? And make something that smelled like Heaven itself had descended on us and was currently serving up dinner?

  On top of all that, if I wasn’t mistaken, he was… humming.

  He was humming a song I knew, because everyone knew it. At one point, it had seemed like the only thing they played on the radio. And every so often—presumably when he got to a series of words he knew—he sang a line or two. Then he went back to humming.

  And God, was the whole picture sexy. What is it about a man in the kitchen that seems so forbidden and unexpected that it’s immediately the biggest turn-on in the world? Something about a guy who can take care of himself, and maybe even take care of you, a little bit. My mind immediately went to getting into the kitchen, being pushed up against the—

  No! Get a hold of yourself, woman!

  This man had broken my heart. Maybe not on purpose, but he’d done it all the same, and I wasn’t in the market for another heartbreak, thank you very much.

  Even if it came with the thought of being pushed against the wall and kissed like I’d never been kissed before.

  No, I had to keep those emotions stuffed into the locked drawer I’d stuffed them in before. It was the only way to keep myself safe.

  All the same, I walked forward and leaned on the counter, making sure my steps were quiet. I kept my breaths shallow, hoping he didn’t hear me. Because I wasn’t finished watching him. Or enjoying the fact that he could, evidently, cook.

  He moved from the oven, having just been checking whatever was in there, and pulled something out of the fridge. Broccoli, I saw—which was a surprise. Sure, I’d assumed that the villa had been fully stocked when we’d arrived, but I hadn’t thought we’d have anything as relatively outside-of-the-basics as broccoli.

  Actually… I inhaled deeply, wondering what exactly he was cooking. Now that I was paying more attention, I realized it went beyond just onions and tomatoes. It smelled like garlic and olive oil. Lemons. Chicken.

  Why did we have any of those things? Why hadn’t this bungalow just been stocked with simple things that we could make in a hurry? Canned soup and the like?

  I paused and frowned to myself. I wasn’t the one who had made these particular reservations, so I wasn’t the one who had asked for specialty food.

  Had it been Damon?

  And if so, why had he done it?

  He went to chop the broccoli—and actually started dancing to his hummed tune. And by dancing, I mean shimmying his hips in the most un-Damon-like move I thought I’d ever seen.

  I didn’t even think men were supposed to be able to do that. It was like he was trying to hula hoop without the hoop, his hips gyrating to what I assumed he was hearing in his head—and certainly wasn’t singing—and before long, his feet got involved as well.

  I couldn’t help it. I started laughing.

  “Is that supposed to be dancing?” I asked breathlessly.

  He whirled around, his mouth open in surprise at having been caught, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed. Then, in a completely Damon move, he gave me a crooked half-smile and shrugged. “I mean, I can probably do better. But I didn’t realize I had an audience. If I’d known you were watching and you wanted a show…”

  He twitched his hips again and walked toward me like he was some sort of stripper or something, and I shook my head and put both hands up—though I was laughing at his antics, too intoxicated by the scent of dinner and promise of food to remember how angry I’d been moments ago.

  “Don’t you dare come any closer with that pelvis. I don’t want to have to report you for sexual harassment. Besides, I left all my dollar bills at home.”

  That got a laugh from him, and I grinned and felt my shoulders relax a bit for the first time since I’d run off the beach.

  I didn’t know how he’d done it. I didn’t even know if he’d done it, or if it was me. But between coming out of the room and seeing him cooking for me, and then catching him dancing to the song he was singing to himself, the awkwardness I’d been feeling around him for the last several days… disappeared.

  And I s
tarted to feel like he was just Damon again. And I was just Aubrey.

  And for the moment, at least, we were just… us.

  Chapter 16

  Aubrey

  “So what exactly is going on in this joint, anyhow?” I asked, turning my eyes from Damon and his swaying hips to the kitchen behind him—which was full of steaming pots, bubbling pans, and a loaf of bread that looked like it was right out of the oven.

  “What’s going on in this joint,” he said smoothly, “is that I’m cooking you dinner. Obviously.”

  “Obviously,” I replied. “So I guess the question is why you’re cooking me dinner.”

  “Well, I figured we probably had to eat,” he responded. “You know, that whole taking-in-calories-so-our-bodies-keep-ticking thing. I don’t know about you, but I’m not keen on the idea of starving to death in some hut on an island far from home. We may have just experienced a volcano erupting, but that doesn’t mean we have to die.”

  “But it does sound like the start of a really suspenseful movie,” I said, my lips turning up in a grin that I only sort of worked to fight. “Isn’t that how that movie with Tom Hanks starts? Stranded on an island, starving to death?”

  “Except that he crashed on a plane. He’s on that island by accident—and after nearly drowning. We got here on purpose. On a plane that landed successfully.”

  “Right. So, what are we having?”

  I looked from Damon and his smolder-machine good looks back to the kitchen, and the promise of food, because talking about it had made me remember that I was ravenous. And no, it didn’t have anything to do with Damon having cooked. I’d left my room because I was hungry, remember? I hadn’t even known he was in here.

  And I was hungry because I hadn’t really eaten anything since breakfast, and since then I’d not only gone for a swim but also fought for my life against a riptide. Almost dying really takes it out of you, you know.