is lovely, thanks so much.”
“What? The setting? Me? The champers?”
“All of the above, but your choice of refreshment in particular, silly.” She sent a smile in his direction and brought the glass to her lips.
“I remembered that you liked bubbly.” He looked pleased with himself. “But this is a bit better than that cheap seven‐dollars‐a‐bottle stuff we used to drink, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yeah.” She nodded enthusiastically, secretly thrilled that he’d remembered that little detail about her. She drank from her glass, and then almost choked as an awful realisation struck her.
She was familiar with this brand of French champagne because the partners in her law firm had bought it for the staff Christmas party. Even on special it cost close to a hundred dollars a bottle. Quickly she swallowed the mouthful of liquid before the urge to spit it out onto the sand overwhelmed her.
“It’s not stolen is it? Please tell me it’s not.”
He stared at her, open‐mouthed, seemingly lost for words.
“Ben?”
He was silent for a moment longer, but his face spoke volumes. His warm smile was gone and his brows were drawn together in a heavy, black frown. “For God’s sake, Kelly.
What do you take me for? A common thief?”
He was glaring at her, his glass clenched tight in one hand, the other held out towards her, palm up, inviting an answer.
She shook her head and wished she’d kept her thoughts to herself. “No, I don’t think you’re a thief. But you can’t blame me for putting two and two together.”
“And making five,” he muttered.
She thought about emptying her glass on the sand and walking away. But deep down, she wanted to believe better of him and if she walked away now, she’d have to live the rest of her life remembering this, her last encounter with Ben Carter, father of her son, and the only love she’d ever had, as bitter and angry.
“Please, let’s forget I said that—any of it,” she said, reaching out her hand to his.
But he pulled his hand away, and dug into his jeans pocket.
“Here—” He produced a slip of white paper and held it out to her. “Receipt from the wine shop up the road. One bottle of champagne—fully paid for.”
“I believe you, Ben, there’s no need for this. Really.”
“Really. There is.” He was still frowning thunderously, his eyes holding hers in aggrieved challenge.
A Father at Last
When she made no move to take the receipt, he thrust it towards her.
“Read it!”
She let her eyes slide to the little slip of paper from the liquor shop’s till—that was way more comfortable than having to look him in the eye.
The wine had cost even more than she’d anticipated: one hundred and fifteen dollars, and the receipt also listed a pair of expensive champagne flutes.
“I’m really sorry.” She lifted her eyes to his. His frown had gone, but he wasn’t smiling.
“Apology accepted. I’m sorry if I sounded...” He closed his eyes, sucked in a deep breath, opened his eyes again and looked away from her, out to sea.
“Angry? Is that the word you wanted? You sounded angry and you had every right to be. I was…wrong.”
He was still looking out to sea so she stepped closer and reached out to touch his arm. She heard him exhale a long breath as he crumpled the receipt and shoved it in his pocket. Then he looked down at her, his eyes much calmer now, but his expression unreadable.
“I’ve ruined the evening, haven’t I?” She dropped her hand and moved as if to turn away. “Maybe it’s best if I go now.”
“No,” he said simply and quietly, stepping closer and reaching out with his free hand to cup her chin. He dipped his head to hers and kissed her full on the lips, hard and fast.
Her eyes were open, but she could see his were shut. So she closed hers, giving herself up to his kiss. She heard his breathing quicken, then, too soon, he drew back, the start of a knowing smile on his
“What? The setting? Me? The champers?”
“All of the above, but your choice of refreshment in particular, silly.” She sent a smile in his direction and brought the glass to her lips.
“I remembered that you liked bubbly.” He looked pleased with himself. “But this is a bit better than that cheap seven‐dollars‐a‐bottle stuff we used to drink, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yeah.” She nodded enthusiastically, secretly thrilled that he’d remembered that little detail about her. She drank from her glass, and then almost choked as an awful realisation struck her.
She was familiar with this brand of French champagne because the partners in her law firm had bought it for the staff Christmas party. Even on special it cost close to a hundred dollars a bottle. Quickly she swallowed the mouthful of liquid before the urge to spit it out onto the sand overwhelmed her.
“It’s not stolen is it? Please tell me it’s not.”
He stared at her, open‐mouthed, seemingly lost for words.
“Ben?”
He was silent for a moment longer, but his face spoke volumes. His warm smile was gone and his brows were drawn together in a heavy, black frown. “For God’s sake, Kelly.
What do you take me for? A common thief?”
He was glaring at her, his glass clenched tight in one hand, the other held out towards her, palm up, inviting an answer.
She shook her head and wished she’d kept her thoughts to herself. “No, I don’t think you’re a thief. But you can’t blame me for putting two and two together.”
“And making five,” he muttered.
She thought about emptying her glass on the sand and walking away. But deep down, she wanted to believe better of him and if she walked away now, she’d have to live the rest of her life remembering this, her last encounter with Ben Carter, father of her son, and the only love she’d ever had, as bitter and angry.
“Please, let’s forget I said that—any of it,” she said, reaching out her hand to his.
But he pulled his hand away, and dug into his jeans pocket.
“Here—” He produced a slip of white paper and held it out to her. “Receipt from the wine shop up the road. One bottle of champagne—fully paid for.”
“I believe you, Ben, there’s no need for this. Really.”
“Really. There is.” He was still frowning thunderously, his eyes holding hers in aggrieved challenge.
A Father at Last
When she made no move to take the receipt, he thrust it towards her.
“Read it!”
She let her eyes slide to the little slip of paper from the liquor shop’s till—that was way more comfortable than having to look him in the eye.
The wine had cost even more than she’d anticipated: one hundred and fifteen dollars, and the receipt also listed a pair of expensive champagne flutes.
“I’m really sorry.” She lifted her eyes to his. His frown had gone, but he wasn’t smiling.
“Apology accepted. I’m sorry if I sounded...” He closed his eyes, sucked in a deep breath, opened his eyes again and looked away from her, out to sea.
“Angry? Is that the word you wanted? You sounded angry and you had every right to be. I was…wrong.”
He was still looking out to sea so she stepped closer and reached out to touch his arm. She heard him exhale a long breath as he crumpled the receipt and shoved it in his pocket. Then he looked down at her, his eyes much calmer now, but his expression unreadable.
“I’ve ruined the evening, haven’t I?” She dropped her hand and moved as if to turn away. “Maybe it’s best if I go now.”
“No,” he said simply and quietly, stepping closer and reaching out with his free hand to cup her chin. He dipped his head to hers and kissed her full on the lips, hard and fast.
Her eyes were open, but she could see his were shut. So she closed hers, giving herself up to his kiss. She heard his breathing quicken, then, too soon, he drew back, the start of a knowing smile on his
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