A Father At Last Read Free Page B

stood motionless, but she could hear the steady in, out, of his breathing, feel his body close to hers, but a million miles away. Still, he said nothing.

    Then, after they’d passed the fourth floor, he pushed the button for the fifth, and surprised her, leaning in, brushing his lips against her cheek, murmuring, “I hope your little boy brings you truckloads of happiness, Kelly.”

    For a long moment, the only sounds were their breathing and the mechanical clunkings of the lift.

    Then he added, unexpectedly, “You smell good. I remember you wearing that perfume—back then.”

    She turned to face him, and saw the heat in his eyes, those amazing liquid gold eyes, halfway between green and brown.

    “Here, I bought something for you.” He reached down to pick up the department store bag from the floor beside him and put the gold rope handle in her hands. Then he fished in his pants pocket, pulled out a wad of notes and dropped them in the bag. “Buy your little fellow a treat for his birthday. Go to the fun park or something. Tell him it’s from an old friend of yours.”

    “He doesn’t need a fancy treat.” Kelly grabbed at the money in the bag. “Dylan’s not a spoilt kid. We’re having a picnic tea at the beach with some of his friends.” She held the money out to him. “Here. Take this back.”

    But he made no move to take it. Fleetingly, she thought of stuffing it back in his jeans pocket, but dismissed the idea instantly.

    Her eyes had obviously betrayed her intentions, because he gave a knowing and infuriating smile. But the smile failed to reach his eyes, which right now looked incredibly sad. And when she saw the sadness, she was almost undone.

    And then she was—completely undone, because he leaned in and kissed her, full on A Father at Last
    the mouth, not with a tentative, questioning, first time kiss, but with a ‘been there before’
    kiss, strong, hard, skipping the preliminaries. And Kelly couldn’t help herself.

    She responded to his heat instinctively and without rational thought. Her tongue met his, and she heard his quickened breathing and heard—no, felt—the vibration in his chest as he groaned and deepened the kiss. He’d pulled her close, so her body touched his, like a homecoming—but an impossible, sad homecoming. Her hands went to his hips, as his tangled in her hair, and she knew she’d lied to herself for all those years.

    Then the lift stopped, and he pulled back from her.

    “Trust me, Kelly,” was all he said. When the doors opened, he turned, stepped out and walked away without looking back.

    “This store will shut in ten minutes. Please complete your purchases and make your way to the exits.”

    The loud message on the store speakers snapped her out of her daze. She was standing in the middle of the children’s wear department, her mind filled with Ben, all her senses running a wide‐screen replay of those five minutes in the lift—five minutes with Ben Carter that threatened to knock down all the defences she’d built up over the last few years.

    And then there was the bottle of perfume. She’d looked in the bag after he’d left the lift, and saw he’d bought the perfume she couldn’t afford. Which meant he did remember her favourite scent. Or more likely, she thought now, he knew she’d wanted it because he’d followed her.

    She’d dropped the wad of cash, still in her hand, into the bag. What normal citizen walked round with a bunch of notes loose in a pocket instead of in a wallet? The whole lot, cash and perfume, could go to the women’s refuge she supported. Now, impossible as it seemed, she needed to concentrate on Dylan’s present.

    Quickly, she located the tables holding the mini rugby jerseys and matching shorts—
    easy to find since the focal point of the display was a life‐size male mannequin wearing All Blacks gear and bearing a remarkable resemblance to the New Zealand rugby team’s present captain.

    Finding her son’s