Nathan's Child Read Online Free Page A

stepped up his commentary about Dominic, telling her how his brother had defended his desire to take photos.
    But then she’d asked to see them. And when he’d shown them to her, she’d been enchanted, eager to see more, eager to learn about what he looked for in shooting photographs.
    And that was when he’d discovered she was an artist.
    She’d been shy about admitting it. But when he’d shown her plenty of bad photos he’d taken, she’d relented and allowed him to see her paintings and sketches. They were lively, cheerful, bright, almost primitive paintings and detailed, very realistic sketches. He’d expected something amateurish. Instead she was enormously talented, and he’d told her so.
    â€œWhat does Dominic think about your work?” he’d asked.
    â€œHe wouldn’t be interested,” she’d said with a shrug. “He only thinks about business.”
    If he only thought about business when his eager, beautiful, talented fiancée was around, Dominic had rocks in his head.
    Nathan hadn’t been able to think about anything else.
    In fact, whenever he’d thought about the perfect woman for him, Carin was it.
    Not that he had said so. He hadn’t wanted to make her uncomfortable. Besides, there was no point. Nothing would happen, Nathan had assured himself, because he wouldn’t let it.
    And possibly nothing would have—if it hadn’t been for that storm.
    The day before Dominic and his father were to arrive,Nathan and Carin had gone for a walk after dinner along the pink sand beach. When they’d reached the rocks that jutted out into the sea, he’d held out a hand to help her up, and somehow he’d never let go.
    He’d liked holding it, enjoyed running his thumb along the soft smooth flesh, relished the gentle grip she held on his fingers, as if she didn’t want to let go, either. It felt right holding her hand. And when they climbed down the other side, their fingers stayed laced together as if by mutual consent. Their hands had known what they were still unable to admit.
    When they got back, Nathan remembered telling himself, he would let her go.
    The storm had come up quickly, and they were soaked by the time they got back to the house. The wind was chilly, and Nathan had built a fire while Carin changed clothes. Then he’d gone to change his own clothes, expecting to meet her back in the living room and spend the last evening they had together before everyone else arrived lounging in front of the fire.
    That’s what he’d thought until he’d gone to his room to change. He had stripped down to his shorts when he heard a tap on his bedroom door. “Yeah?”
    The door had opened.
    Carin had stood before him wearing a towel and a tentative smile. Nothing else. “All my stuff is in the wash and I forgot to put it in the dryer,” she confessed. “Do you have some jeans and a sweatshirt I could borrow.”
    Nathan remembered dumbly nodding his head. He didn’t remember saying anything. He didn’t think he could have. He’d seen Carin in a bathing suit, of course. He knew—had memorized—those slender enticing curves.
    But it was different seeing her wrapped in a towel. It was different knowing that she had nothing on underneath. He remembered the feel of her soft fingers. He wanted to touchthe rest of her. His body responded even as his mind tried to resist.
    Embarrassed at his sudden fierce arousal, he had turned away toward the dresser. “I’ll get ’em,” he’d said hoarsely.
    But instead of waiting outside his room, she came in. She came to stand beside him—so close that he could see goose bumps on her arms. “You’re cold,” he’d said. “We’ve got to warm you up.”
    He hadn’t meant to reach for her. He hadn’t meant to make love with her. But the next thing he knew she’d been in his arms.
    If he