Page 112 of 2 Books in One Bundle

“Good evening.”

He stepped forward, took her hand and escorted her to her seat. Everything he did—filling her bowl with clams and placing a thick slice of crispy baguette on her plate, pouring a glass of sparkling white wine—brought a charmed smile or a soft flare of excitement to her eyes.

It was, he realized as the sun continued its descent and set her golden hair aglow with rays of red and orange, one of the things he enjoyed most about her. How much she delighted in the little things, from the spinning of the carousel in Central Park to him cooking her breakfast. As much as he had tried to stay grounded as Bradford Global had grown by leaps and bounds, he had grown used to the luxury, the opulence afforded one with millions of dollars at his fingertips.

Dessert was a decadent chocolate mousse topped with fresh whipped cream. Afterward, they reclined in their chairs and watched the stars appear in the velvet darkness.

“The perfect weekend,” Evolet said on a soft sigh.

“It is.” Damon leaned forward and clinked his glass to hers. If he could just focus on what they had enjoyed, on the time they’d spent together and not the inevitable end, he would get through this evening without making a fool of himself.

“Damon...”

The hint of melancholy in her voice pulled at him. She stared out over the river, her profile lit with the silver wash of moonlight. Slowly, she turned to look at him.

“Make love to me.”

Did he imagine the slight catch in her voice? The emotion in her eyes? It called to him, seduced him.

Then he pushed it away.

Of course she feels something, he told himself as he rose.

He was her first lover. She confided in him, yes, pushed him to share more of himself with her. But she hadn’t said a word about how she felt about him, about continuing their affair beyond her contract time at Bradford Global. Perhaps he was more conflicted than she.

The thought should have brought him comfort. Instead, it just left him empty.

He moved to her and swept her into his arms, cradling her body close. He carried her inside. They undressed each other with gentle, languorous movements, savoring each other’s bodies until they lay naked on the bed. When he pressed his body into hers, felt the arch of her hips against his as he claimed her with slow strokes, he almost asked her to stay. When her nails dug into his back and she cried out his name as she came apart in his arms, he almost told her he felt something, more than anything he’d ever felt for a woman.

And as she lay in his embrace, her breathing deep and even, he kissed her brow and acknowledged that Evolet Grey had, for better or worse, changed his life.

Evolet had always pictured hell as being a place of fire and brimstone, wails of grief and gnashing of demon teeth.

She’d never pictured it as the black concrete of a helipad rushing up to meet the landing skids of a helicopter. But as Damon expertly maneuvered the helicopter down, as she felt the slight bump signaling that they had landed, her heart shuddered.

When she’d woken this morning, it had been to an empty bed. And when she’d walked down the stairs, Damon had been wearing a crisp white dress shirt and navy pants, a black belt notched at his lean waist and an expensive watch glinting in the light as he’d sipped a cup of coffee and scrolled through emails on his tablet.

He’d looked up at her, smiled. But it had been a dull smile, one she imagined he reserved for placating annoying business partners or one-night stands who overstayed their welcome.

And then, as she’d poured herself a cup, he’d said it.

I’ve enjoyed our time together, Evolet. But it’s time for us to go our separate ways.

The roaring in her ears had drowned out most of what he’d said, although she’d caught something about how he’d wanted to tell her here, in private, in case there was anything they needed to discuss.

She’d said no, plastered a smile on her face and excused herself to go pack. She’d discovered that crying her heart out in the shower had its benefits, like the stream of the water covering up her sobs. She had suspected this might be coming sooner rather than later. All through the weekend there had been a distance to him, as if he’d been trying to make the time into what she had originally proposed: a quick fling.

She just hadn’t expected him to end it like this, before they’d even headed back to the city.

The quick bout of tears helped her steady herself before she’d gone back down. He’d looked at her then, his eyes running over her as if searching for signs that she was about to break. She’d merely lifted her chin up and asked if he was ready.

Falling in love with him had been her own choice. One day, hopefully sometime soon, she would be grateful for all he’d shown her, for helping her realize she could still love even if she knew pain would follow.

But not today. Today was for mourning.

The flight back to New York had been stilted. The camaraderie and fun conversation that had filled their journey to the river valley was nonexistent on the ride back. She’d kept herself distracted with a book, her eyes only occasionally flickering to his hands as he’d maneuvered the controls or to his handsome profile while he’d gazed out over the scenery below them.

And now, she thought as the helicopter blades slowed above them and several helipad employees rushed forward, it was over. Three days gone in the blink of an eye.

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