Nathan's Child - By Anne McAllister Page 0,1

until last September she’d lived in hope of never seeing him again.

But then his brother Dominic had come to Pelican Cay—and Carin had known it was just a matter of time.

But months had passed, and when Nathan didn’t come, she began to hope. And now, in the space of a single moment, her hopes had been dashed.

He set the paperweight down and lifted his gaze to study the paintings on the walls—her paintings—and with every slow step, Nathan came closer.

Ignoring him as best she could, Carin finished wrapping the last piece of sculpture and put it in the bag. “There you go. I do hope you’ll enjoy them—and think of us often. And I hope you’ll come back again.”

“Oh, we’d love to,” one said.

“Especially if you start stocking merchandise like that.” The shorter one nodded in Nathan’s direction and started for the door.

“He’d be some souvenir,” the other agreed with a laugh. Then, eyeing Nathan up and down as she passed, she hurried after her friend. The door opened and banged shut behind them.

In the rattle and hum of the air conditioner, Carin thought she could hear a bomb ticking. She laced her fingers together and took deep, steadying breaths and tried to gather her thoughts—and her defenses.

Thirteen years ago she had been in love with this man. Thirteen years ago he had been gentle, kind, boyish, loving—everything that his hard-edged brother, Dominic, the man she had been engaged to marry, had not.

She’d liked but she hadn’t loved Dominic Wolfe. He had been her father’s idea of her perfect husband, not hers. But naive girl that she’d been, she’d thought their marriage would work—until she met Nathan.

Knowing Nathan—loving Nathan—Carin had realized that she couldn’t marry his brother.

She’d tried to tell Dominic. But he’d told her it was nerves and brushed her aside. She couldn’t tell her father—he wanted her marriage to Dominic to cement his business relationship with Dominic’s father. Once that had sounded sensible. After she’d met Nathan, she knew it wouldn’t be.

So in the end she’d done the only thing she could do—she’d run.

She’d jilted Dominic, had left him at the altar and gone into hiding. She’d been no match for him. He had been too sophisticated, too strong, too handsome, too hard, too powerful for a girl like her.

Ten months ago he’d looked the same. But Carin had grown up a lot in thirteen years. Even so she’d had to muster all her courage to deal with him, to apologize to him—to explain.

And miracle of miracles, he’d changed, too. He’d been kinder, more patient, gentler—a word she’d never imagined using with Dominic Wolfe.

He was married, she’d learned, to the funky, funny purple-haired Sierra, whom she’d met earlier that day. Sierra was the last woman on earth Carin would have imagined with Dominic. But she had obviously been good for Dominic. She’d changed him.

Falling in love had changed him.

Clearly nothing similar had happened to his brother. Nathan looked every bit as fierce and hard and powerful now as Dominic once had. But if she had handled Dominic, she was determined to handle him.

Behind the counter where he couldn’t see, Carin smoothed damp palms down the sides of her white slacks. Then she took one last deep breath. “Good afternoon,” she said politely in her best shopkeeper’s voice. “What can I do for you?”

Nathan set down the sailboat and slowly turned to face her. The years might have been hard, but they had given him character and even, she noted, a few gray hairs. His formerly straight nose looked as if it had been broken at least once. His tan was still deep and, as she could see when he removed his sunglasses, there were lines at the corners of his eyes.

It was his eyes that caught and held her. Blue eyes that had once been soft and loving now glinted like steel as he met her gaze and answered her question.

“Marry me.”

Thirteen years ago she would have jumped at the chance. Now Carin forced herself to straighten her fingers, to remain calm, steady, centered.

“No.”

It clearly wasn’t the answer Nathan had been expecting. His jaw dropped. Then he clamped his mouth shut. A muscle ticked in his temple. He looked equal parts annoyance, consternation and fury.

Well, too bad. Thirteen years ago if he’d said those words to her, Carin would have flung herself on him and wept for joy.

But he hadn’t.

He’d shared one night with her, then, consumed by guilt at betraying his brother, he’d told her it was

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