Page 72 of 2 Books in One Bundle

“Tracy Montebach and a friend whose name escapes me. Probably latched on to her newest prey.”

The knot in her chest loosened at his casual dismissal. “So it’s not true love?”

His deep laugh rippled over her skin once more and slid into her senses. The rich sound transformed his expression of cool elegance to devastatingly handsome as his teeth flashed white in the darkness and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“I don’t think Tracy would know love if it bit her. And,” he added, “love isn’t a part of my future.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

The finality in his voice made her look up. His face had smoothed into a blank mask, his eyes cold once more.

“There’s a story there,” she observed.

“Yes.”

She wanted to push, to ask who or what had turned him away from love. But she had no desire to relive the rejection she’d experienced in the ballroom. She let his final word hang in the air between them as they continued on through the park.

As they crossed a bridge above one of the numerous paths that crisscrossed through the park, Evolet’s feet slowed. She stopped and leaned over the railing, looking down at the carousel below. Golden lights glowed within the redbrick structure that housed the ride. Calliope music sang through the trees as horses soared up and down. At this hour there were only a handful of people on the carousel: two men with a little girl and a couple who seemed more interested in each other than the horses.

Damon joined her at the railing, silent and contemplative. His presence unsettled her, as did the comfort she found in standing beside him. So often she was alone. Over time, she had come to prefer it.

But right now, gazing down at one of her favorite places in the city with a complete stranger who had slid past her usual defenses, she understood at least some of the allure of sharing one’s secrets with another.

“I haven’t been here in years.”

“Did you ever ride it?” she asked.

“Yes. Once, when I was little. For my fifth birthday, I think.”

“No big party?”

“No.” He paused. “My parents were down-to-earth despite their wealth. They never forgot where they came from.”

She sensed that the words cost him somehow, as if he never spoke of his parents. She also heard the unspoken apology for his earlier dismissal in the ballroom and accepted it. How could she judge him for wanting to keep what was obviously a great source of pain close when she did the same every day?

He nodded toward the carousel as it slowed. “Did your parents ever bring you here?”

“No,” she managed to whisper past the thickness in her throat. She watched as the fathers helped their daughter dismount from a chestnut horse with a violet saddle, her gleeful laughter rising up as the music wound down. The man with his girlfriend placed his hands on her waist and helped her down, then kissed her forehead as her feet hit the floor.

Oddly, the day she’d first laid eyes on the carousel had been the day the social worker had bought her ice cream on their way to her first foster home. A consolation prize to help her deal with her mother’s abandonment. The ice cream cart had been parked just off the drive that meandered through the southern end of the park. She’d wandered over to the railing on the bridge, almost to this very spot, and looked down to see kids giggling as the carousel had spun round and round. Parents had laughed, snapped photos and hugged their children.

Love. Security. Family. Things she had craved for years.

She turned away and continued down the sidewalk, suddenly feeling foolish and shy that she’d almost shared her story with him. Damon caught up to her, his inquisitive gaze hot on her face. He knew there was more lurking beneath the surface, something deeper than just pausing to watch a carousel spin around.

“Thanks for indulging me,” she said lightly.

He nodded, and she released a relieved breath that he didn’t press.

They walked along in silence for a moment, crossing the road and continuing on another path that wound through trees full of unfurling green leaves and down steps framed by tall grasses.

“There’s a story there.”

She nearly stumbled on the last step as he repeated her words. He caught her with one hand, his fingers strong and firm on her elbow.

“What?” she whispered.

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