Page 24 of Scarlet Secrets

How the hell have I forgotten how gorgeous this man is? Or is it that he’s better-looking than before? A sprinkle of gray peppers his hair, and he’s leaner in the cheeks, but oh Lord, he’s sexier than ever.

Him. Sasha’s father. The man who gave me the best damn night of my life.

I struggle to breathe.

His eyes lock on mine as I tell my feet to move.

And recognition passes darkly through them.

Without a word, he slides his hand around my arm and leads me to a quiet corner where artfully displayed tall, manicured rosebushes sit in tubs.

My pulse is haywire as his touch burns. It isn’t tight. I could pull away, so why the hell am I going with him?

Shock.

Bemusement.

Some kind of latent lust?

Fuck.

He gently pushes me against the wall and lets me go. Then his gaze moves over me, taking his time.

We’re not alone, but he makes me feel that way, and I’m pinned to the wall, a butterfly on display, unable to escape, there for his eyes, his enjoyment.

I swallow, hard.

“What a coincidence,” he says, that low, deep voice, one I’ve dreamed of, sliding through me. “You here at this wedding. And knowing nobody.”

I’m about to correct him, but suddenly I narrow my eyes. “By coincidence, do you mean anything but?”

“You know what they say, if the shoe fits…”

Anger bubbles hot and wild inside. How long has he been watching me here?

“Are you honestly trying to suggest I came looking for you?” I shove at him with my free hand, but he doesn’t move. “You think after three years I hunted you down here? We had a one-night stand three years ago. Sure, the sex was good, but not:I’m still trying to hunt you down three years latergood.”

I’m lying to him. It was that good. But in all honesty, he could be the king of orgasms, and I wouldn’t want to tangle with him. I don’t want to tangle with anyone. I’ve been actively trying to avoid tangles. Hair, clothes, men, relationships. All of them.

“Says the woman, going on about how long it’s been. Why are you here?”

I open my mouth and close it again.

This is not a good man. I know that. When I found out I was pregnant, I tried to find him, not to do anything other than let him know, and do the right thing. If he wanted to see his kid, he could, but I wasn’t asking for anything from him.

But he registered under a fake name. So Tom, my half brother, tracked him down and he told me this man is not someone I want to mess with.

The takeaway is I don’t think he knows he’s father to a two-year-old. And while Tom wouldn’t tell me details, he felt the need to repeat I was to stay away from him.Stay the fuck awaywere his exact words.

“It’s not your business,” I say as politely as I can manage. “So if you don’t mind…”

But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t budge when I push him again and I drop my hand to my side rather than continue to touch him.

“I mind.”

“Please,” I say, vowing to protect my child from this man. The layer of charm’s gone and I can see the hardness in him, one that could easily turn to brutishness. “We don’t know each other. One night was a long time ago. I barely remember.”

His smile is swift, devastating. “Really? Why are you here? Hmm? What is it you want? Who sent you? You don’t just turn up at a wedding not knowing anyone without an agenda.”

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