The Last Girl (Sand & Fog #7)

by Susan Ward

  As yet, I hadn’t looked at the prince. I’d sat with my father for exactly that purpose; it kept my mother between us and my gaze from seeing too much of Damon when it strayed there. It was a smart move because it strayed there far more often than I wanted it to.

  “I’d prefer to hear Khloe’s stories about her recent travels,” Damon injected smoothly. “It’s always interesting to hear an American’s perspective on the current state of Europe. That’s something I would find fascinating.”

  He leaned forward, glancing at me as his lips curved into a gracious smile. Connecting with his gaze, it happened again: I lost my breath, which revived my irritation. What was it about him I wasn’t immune to?

  “I do ordinary, boring things I’m sure no one wants to hear. Not even my parents, Damon.”

  His smile melted into a frown. “Those are exactly the type of things that are fascinating. And I doubt that there’s anything you do that one would characterize as boring or ordinary.”

  I blinked in surprise as my face heated. Oh shit. There was enough innuendo in that to crush a house. I’d have to be dense to miss from those words what Damon was thinking about.

  “Is there any martini left in the pitcher?” I asked abruptly.

  “Khloe,” my mom chided, instantly in helicopter mode over my diet.

  “I know, Mom. But, see, there are four glasses and one won’t hurt.”

  My mom turned in my direction and her facial features grew taut. We’re not discussing this, Khloe. I melted back into my cushions, mission accomplished. I could no longer see Damon with my mother sitting as she did.

  “It’s her first night home, Chrissie,” my dad reminded gently. “That calls for bending the rules a bit. Even the doctor said she could have a glass of wine now and then. That it wouldn’t harm her. Half a martini, no difference.”

  My mom’s expression contorted into something that made me regret having gone down the alcohol route as a means to change the subject. One word was all it took to catapult my mother out of happy-delusion land and make reality too harsh for her.

  Doctor—every muscle in my body turned to stone.

  Alan said the word my family never spoke and had done so in front of Damon. It’d be too much to assume he’d missed it or my mom’s reaction and wouldn’t worm out of my parents some sort of follow-up. It’d unleashed too tense a moment.

  Heavy silence fell over us as I waited, my dad and mom staring at each other in that heavy wordless-arguing way they had when it came to me and weren’t agreeing.

  My mom’s mouth tightened, and she looked away first. My dad leaned forward and filled a glass halfway, then handed it to me. They’d fight later in the privacy of the bedroom over the martini, and I kicked myself for that. And it didn’t help to know it was their issue, not mine, and that nothing I did would stop it.

  Still, it was frustrating. As much as I loved them, it seemed to do nothing to make this not happen. And, Christ, I was twenty-two. I could make my own decisions on everything if I wanted to, and that alone should have moved my family past harmless missteps igniting flash arguments between my parents over how to deal with Khloe.

  “Look,” Damon announced on a hushed voice that sounded very loud in the stilted quiet. “The sun’s almost gone. Sunset is truly magnificent here. You weren’t wrong, Chrissie. I’m glad I stayed and didn’t miss this.”

  My mom unbent enough to smile. “You should see it in the morning. Dawn on the cliffs is my favorite. The mark of a new day and new endless possibilities.”

  “What a charming way to put it.” Damon’s chin lifted as he stared upward at the mosaic of colors above us. “I’m envious of the life you share here.” He leaned around my mother to look straight at me. “You’re a very lucky girl, Khloe. All children should get to be raised in such a peaceful and hopeful place.”

  I smiled at Damon for that. His words softened my unease and reminded me why I always came back here, when sometimes it felt it would be easier for all if I didn’t.

  “It’s not been that way for too long at home,” Alan stated glumly, his expression enigmatic and intense. “I hardly recognize London when I’m there.”

  “This present turmoil won’t last,” Damon replied firmly. “All things pass in time, Alan. Our troubles will be behind us soon.”

  My mother’s glass dropped from her hand, crashing loudly against the wood frame of her chair before landing in pieces on the ground, and she sprang to her feet. “You’ll have to excuse me.”

  At a fast run she headed to the house, and I could tell by how her head was down that she was crying.

  Damon stood, alarmed and frowning. “I’m sorry, Alan. What did I say?”

  My dad calmly set down his glass, gave me a tight squeeze on my arm, and rose. “Finish your drinks and sunset, you two. There’s something I must take care of.”

  Something—my mother—damn it. The emotion in my throat was air-bag inflated. I almost couldn’t breathe, and I was about to be left on the cliffs alone with Damon, when that was the last thing I wanted.

  Dad patted Damon’s shoulder. “My apologies. We’ll talk later, Damon.”

  Several minutes passed with Damon doing nothing but staring at the house my parents had disappeared into. Then, without a word, he crouched down and picked up my mother’s broken glass himself.

  “What just happened here?” he muttered, his head shaking as he searched for more pieces. “I said something to upset your mother, but I don’t know what. Please believe me, it was unintended.”

  It was all things pass in time, but I wasn’t about to explain that to Damon. Worse, I felt bad for him, stepping on a landmine in our complicated family dynamic. I was sure he was feeling blown up and not knowing why. It was how these out-of-nowhere flashes of uncapped emotion from my mother always hit me. Whenever she was upset she radiated so strongly that it hit like a lead fist coldcocking you.

  I held him in a gaze I hoped conveyed no big deal. “It’s nothing, Damon. Don’t worry about it. Do you have a cigarette? After that, I could use one.”

  He swung toward me and I wasn’t sure if he was appalled or shocked by my cavalier perspective over my mother’s frantic exodus from the cliffs. He stared as if he didn’t know how to respond.

  I arched a brow. “A smoke? You got any?”

  He set down the shards of glass and fumbled through his pockets until he found a pack. After opening it, he pulled one out and offered it to me.

  I popped it in my mouth. “You got a light?”

  “Yes. Sorry.” He shook his head, flustered, and retrieved his lighter.

  I inhaled deeply then slowly let the smoke curl from my mouth. “Thank you. I don’t smoke much. One in the morning with coffee. One at night. But I do miss it when I don’t have one.”

  He settled in my mom’s vacant lounger beside me. He still seemed preoccupied by my mother. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never smoked.”

  “Then why do you have the pack?” I laughed as I tapped my ash onto the grass.

  His eyes widened, and a ghost of a smile softened the stiff line of his mouth. “To have them should a beautiful girl ask for one. You had cigarettes in your suite in Paris. I remembered.”

  My pulse jumped from how he looked at me. He’d made a fast recovery out of the emotional morass left by Chrissie, and I was now on the defensive, put there by a man who could pitch with the waves. But if Damon thought...

  “Why did you follow me to California?” I snapped, coldcocking him like my mother because I’d decided it was time to cut through the shit. “Why are you here?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  DAMON SHOT TO HIS FEET, whirled toward me, and the smile on his face was replaced by a frown. “It should be obvious, Khloe. I’m here because of you. If I’d known who you were I’d have never gone to Paris. After learning from Zane who you are I had no choice but to come here. My conscience would not permit me to do otherwise.”

  It was the last answer I expected. It reminded me of Zane’s sav
ior complex remark about his cousin, and confirmed I was right that something was going on between them. I was shocked by the fury of his response, though he was remarkably contained, wonderfully alluring, and very impressive when angry. The emotion made him appear less regal and more human.

  Debating whether I wanted to know more because instinct warned that I didn’t, I swirled the ice in my glass calmly, watching it twirl because I could no longer meet his gaze. “Your conscience made you follow me, huh? That’s a first for me, Damon. Now why don’t you sit down—I don’t enjoy you hovering over me—and tell me why you’re here?”

  He inhaled deeply, his balled fingers at his side relaxing, and settled on the foot of my chaise, shifting so that he faced me directly. “How long have you been ill? Is it serious?”

  His voice was ragged and intense, as if the status of me was more important than every other aspect of what was unresolved between us. And crap, talk about your tangents from hell. It was the last thing I wanted to discuss with anyone, even if I could have figured out how it fit into him being here.

  I glared at him, though it was my fault he knew I had a health issue. “What does it matter?”

  Damon’s mouth curved into a grim line. “It matters a great deal to how badly I’ll feel over my deplorable part in Paris and in my decision of how much I’ll share with you.”

  My gaze fell from his. “There’s no need to worry about me, Damon. I can take whatever you have to say to me. My problems are no big deal, and it certainly isn’t worth not knowing why you were in Paris or why you think it was deplorable to be there.”

  My gaze shot back to his, demanding and impatient.

  “I doubt you’ll think that once you hear everything.” He had the grace to flush. “It started harmless enough. Zane raving about you. Cade trying to one-up him. The two of them talking incessantly about their KK. How remarkable you were. How beautiful. Flashing your picture about. It went on and on to the point it was excruciating to listen to how they talked about you.”

  He broke off, looking disgruntled.

  I frowned. To that point it hadn’t been so bad. Most men talked about women when they were alone; no news flash there. Only, for some reason, whatever my guys had said had bothered Damon.

  “It sounds like normal guy talk to me. You said it was excruciating. Why?”

  Damon’s face smoothed into unreadable impassivity. “I’d prefer not to answer that, Khloe. The details aren’t relevant. It’s more significant where the talk brought us.”

  “Okay. You want to skip over that part. We can if it gets me to the part that sent you to Paris to see me.”

  His gaze grew steady and apologetic. “I taunted Zane to get him to shut up about you. Told him he was full of rubbish. That, whatever they thought, it sounded to me more likely that it was you playing them as fools. I apologize for the remark. It was uncalled for, but all I could think of. Then Zane taunted me back with a bet.”

  My stomach churned.

  Oh God, not this.

  “What kind of bet?” I asked calmly.

  With a reluctance I could nearly taste, he murmured, “It was over you.”

  “I already realized that on my own.” I set down my glass on the table beside me. Damon’s confession wasn’t shocking to me. I knew all about Zane’s ridiculous bets. For my wandering circus it was like a party game. The bets were endless between the guys. It was just something to amuse ourselves with while we traveled. Though it was a surprise Zane had brought his cousin into it. “Let me make this easier for you, Damon. Was the bet you could hit on me in Paris?”

  He flushed again.

  Score one for Khloe. But then I had the advantage; I knew all the participants.

  “In my own defense, my part is not as bad as it appears,” he countered desperately.

  How earnest he was killed any thought of getting upset with him and fed my unexpected amusement over this. “Thank God. It sounds rather deplorable to me. Beneath a man like you. How much was the wager and how far did it go?”

  Damon shoved his fingers into his hair as if he needed to brace himself to confess this part. “A million dollars. Zane doesn’t have a million dollars, which made me suspicious—it had to be a setup he wouldn’t lose to risk that much money—but I was equally appalled by his suggestion. It alarmed me as to how often he did this to you. Understand, my part was only to teach him a lesson. I insisted on my own terms. If Zane had not agreed, I’d have walked away without accepting the bet. I was only willing to go so far in this.”

  “Ah, a gentleman even while behaving badly,” I mocked, rolling my eyes. “Losing a million dollars to Zane over me is going pretty far, Damon. That explains Paris, but not why you’re in California.”

  “Losing?” He looked befuddled and offended, then anxiously moved in closer to me. “No. I won a million dollars. My terms of the bet were that you’d brush me off. He left it my choice the side I put my money on. I bet on you.”

  My lids flared wide. “On me?”

  “Yes. Because I had no intention of trying to hit on you,” he admitted somewhat arrogantly. “I wanted to meet you. Make sure you knew about Zane and his bets. Nothing more.”

  “You bet a million dollars against Zane just for the chance to meet me and tell me what he’s been doing?”

  “Yes. Zane didn’t expect that.” A hint of a gleam filled his amber eyes. “It’s a good thing I did turn the tables. Two minutes with you told me I’d have lost if I hadn’t. And that was even before I knew who you were.”

  That shouldn’t have made me laugh, but his self-deprecating opinion of himself combined with his disgruntled expression sprinkled with stuffy conceit caused my humor to erupt. “You can stop thinking badly of yourself, Damon. I don’t think I can take more of you being...contrite. It’s sort of weirdly chivalrous.”

  Damon frowned. “It’s nothing of the kind.”

  “Oh, but it is,” I sputtered between gales. I had to hold my stomach after that.

  “Please, don’t laugh,” he commanded. “It isn’t funny. And there’s more I need to say to you.”

  I tried to stop, I really did, but how he stared at me made it impossible. It felt like every cell in my body was letting loose the tension he’d put there by being here. My humor took an enormous amount of energy, draining me. I couldn’t contain it and didn’t really want to. It felt good; the first thing to feel good since I’d stepped into the studio to find Damon with my dad.

  Cody was going to love this story. He already thought my wandering circus had too much drama. Telling him about this probably wouldn’t be wise, but it was too rich not to share with someone and he was the only one I could trust telling Damon’s confession to. I doubted I’d be able to keep my mouth shut until morning.

  When I finally quieted, I pushed the curls from my face and stared up at Damon. “Thank you for filling me in, but I don’t see a point in this discussion going further. I already know what I need to know. We’re good.”

  “Good?” Damon said it like he didn’t know the definition of the word.

  I smirked. “Yep. Now I’m tired and I’m going to bed.”

  I scrambled off the chaise.

  “Wait. You can’t leave yet,” Damon announced.

  “Oh, but I can.” Which I was quickly proven wrong in the most unanticipated way. Damon jumped to his feet and grabbed my forearm. My nerves where he touched tingled and it was light-years from the vibrant wakefulness I felt when he looked at me. How Damon’s breathing suddenly changed told me he felt it, too.

  “There’s more I have to say to you,” he whispered roughly. “I might not get another chance alone with you during my fortnight here.”

  Fortnight?

  Oh no. No way. No.

  It wasn’t possible that Damon was staying two weeks with my family. That couldn’t happen. I couldn’t survive two weeks of him always near me.

  The world around me spun and before I knew it he was kissing me.

  Chapter Eighteen


  IF DAMON HAD SLAPPED me, he couldn’t have stunned me more. The contact was paralyzing—my body felt perfectly right against his, even if my mind raced with outrage and wanted to stop this.

  With a groan, he hauled me tighter against him and deepened the kiss. He smelled so good, nothing but his own scent from his flesh flooded my senses. It brought to my mind a sweet and clean spring breeze off the ocean, how good it felt when it entered your lungs after breathing nothing but smoggy air. His mouth moved against mine as though he’d been starved for this. His lips held the hint of a taste of watermelon—my mother had flavored the martinis tonight—but it was the taste of him I drank.

  His body controlled mine in a twisted band of gentleness and strength, molding me to him in a passionate way that wasn’t overwhelming. My nipples hardened, though I begged them not to, and white-hot arousal licked at my core.

  My heart thundered in my chest as I felt myself ignoring my own demand to resist and melted into him. His kiss wasn’t invasive or rough. It was as a first kiss should be, but that was my undoing because it tore through my body roughly like an invader. It was heavy with tender emotion, devoid of the carnal; the worst thing I could experience with a man.

  God, with a single kiss he demolished my inner firewall that protected me from men like him. The attraction for him I’d denied thus far was very real. Very real, very dangerous, and very wrong to pursue.

  I yanked myself free of him and sprang back with my head high, praying he wouldn’t take back the space I’d put between us.

  “What the heck is the matter with you, Damon? You don’t just grab a girl and kiss her. Especially a girl you hardly know.”

  “It seemed the fastest way to get you to listen. I’m not done—”

  “Well, I am.” I lifted my chin and ran straight into his gaze. Those amber tiger eyes sat richly amused in his handsome, slightly flushed face. “Christ!”

  Several moments passed with me breathing heavily and him standing patiently waiting for me to do something. I wasn’t sure what he thought my next move would be. Slap him? Run to the house? Run back into his arms? They were all options that circled my thoughts and wouldn’t have been outlandish after what had just transpired between us.