Page 33 of All I Know

"What if you meet someone?" He leans back and scowls.

"I'm not looking for anyone. I wasn't looking for anyone when you walked into my bar. Contrary to what you might think, I don't normally go home with random men." Old hurt and anger wells in my chest.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. It was a rhetorical question because you asked me the same thing."

Damn him and his logic. "I haven't been with anyone since?—"

"I don't need to know. Don't want to. Kate, I'm going to Syria. Even if I were single, I'd bet my life savings I wouldn't meet anyone I wanted to marry. I'm not going there to improve my social life. I'm a military contractor who makes a shit load of money in exchange for doing undercover work indangerous countries. And that's the other reason I thought we should get married."

I frown. "Why? Hunh?"

"Syria's dangerous." He takes a deep breath. "At least I'll know you'll be taken care of for life. If I don't come back."

His words are like a spike to my heart. During our discussion I never considered this angle or how it might be a reason for him to ask me this insane question

He's headed into a war zone and might not return. My earlier thoughts that he was doing this out of pity are dissolving by the second.

"Damien," I whisper. "Dammit, don't talk like that. And wouldn't you want everything, whatever you have or whatever you'd receive, to go to your family?"

"My family's set for life. We're rich. I'd rather you get the benefits. Which are substantial, for the spouse of a dead?—"

"Stop," I say harshly, pressing my fingers firmly onto his lips. "I don't want you to say those words aloud. Hush."

He grabs my wrist and pries my fingers from his face. "Let me take care of you, Kate. Please?"

I don't know what to say because I'm fighting a flood of tears. Unsuccessfully. No man has ever said that. Never lifted a finger to care for me.

"So..." I croak. "I guess..."

I snuggle into his chest, pressing my wet eyes into his T-shirt. Christ, this just got even more complicated.

"Is that a yes?"

I raise my head and look into his eyes. He wipes the tears off my cheeks with his thumb. He must be nervous, because he captures his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Yes, Damien. I'll marry you."

kate

. . .

Maybe gettingmarried is the worst idea. Maybe I'm making a mistake by saying yes. Maybe I'm under Damien's spell.

Right now, I don't care.

Extracting myself from his arms and climbing to my feet, I hold out my hand. He gives me a quizzical glance, and I press my finger to my lips.

He takes my hand, and I lead him into my bedroom.

Thank God Mom's not one of those parents who kept her daughter's room a shrine to childhood. Since I left, she's redecorated it tastefully, in shades of gold and white. Mom even replaced my hideous black floor lamp with sophisticated track lighting over the bed, which I flick on and adjust to a sensual glow.

The room is nothing like what I'd had when I was last here. I send Mom a silent thanks for having decorating forethought. Maybe she knew her daughter would come home someday and want to bring a man into to a bedroom with tasteful beach art and not NKOTB posters.

She also deserves the credit for replacing my twin with a firm queen mattress.

I steer Damien over to the bed, and he sits on the edge. A smile immediately comes to my face when I see his large frame on the place I sleep.

I straddle him, and all the tension in my stomach I've carried over the past few days loosens. My hands cradle his face, and his hands slide around to my butt and give a squeeze. Because I'm wearing a cotton skirt, he doesn't stop there—his hands slide under the fabric and beneath my silky panties.

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