“I was right here, Doogan. I was always here, waiting for you,” she whispered, finally able to lift her head to stare down at him.
And in his eyes she saw the pain, the rage, the man who had to face the fact that he could only run for so long, and that the time for it was over.
“Yeah, you are,” he whispered, reaching up to cup her face. “Graham came to see me a few weeks ago,” he said then.
She nearly stopped breathing. God, he’d promised . . .
“He told me if I waited too long to come for you, then he’d make sure when I got over my dumb and came back later, he’d make sure I left just as fast.” His lips quirked. “He’d do it too. I figured I better get my ass back here and claim you while your family was willing to let me.”
Her brow arched. “You need their permission?”
“Not anymore.” He tugged at her hair, pulling her to his kiss, whispering the words over her lips. “I belong to you, witch. Heart and soul. There’s no way in hell I can live without you.”
Her smile lit up his heart. Filled with love, with a promise that met the one in his heart.
“Welcome home, Doogan.” And her lips lowered to his, their kiss one of shared promise, of shared love.
When it was over, he tucked her against his side again. “Damn, I’m tired, honey. You wear a man out.”
“Better get your rest,” she murmured as he let his eyes drift closed. “I figure you have about seven months to recuperate.”
His eyes jerked open, panic flashing through him for about two seconds.
No, he told himself desperately, she didn’t mean . . .
“Zoey . . .”
“Did Graham tell you I was pregnant, Doogan?” she asked, her tone perfectly reasonable. “Because if he did, you walk your ass right back out of here. At least until it snows.”
He blinked up at the ceiling. He tried like hell to swallow.
Slowly, he sat up, telling himself his hands really weren’t shaking. He wasn’t ready to pass out because he couldn’t breathe past the tightness in his chest.
“What did you say?” he wheezed.
That siren’s smile, those witchy eyes. Emerald circling celadon. So damned beautiful she could steal his breath even when he wasn’t in shock.
She caught his hand and dragged it to her still-flat stomach. “I warned you,” she reminded him. “I just didn’t realize the pill I was on was low dose. My doctor figures I’m about six weeks pregnant.”
He stared at his hand where it covered her stomach, realizing what she hadn’t told him.
“You weren’t going to tell me.” He turned his gaze to her, glaring back at her. “Were you?”
“No, I wasn’t,” she admitted, stubbornness flashing in her eyes. “If you didn’t want me without a baby, then you could do without me. I wouldn’t have kept our baby from you, though.” Regret filled her expression. “I would never punish our baby, Doogan. I would only love it, and you, and always regret what hadn’t been.”
His Zoey. His witch.
“I love you, but I’m spanking your butt for that one,” he promised her.
A little roll of her eyes was followed by a smothered yawn. “Later, I might let you.”
Later.
But he could kiss her. He could let his lips whisper over hers and he could thank God he got over his dumb in time to claim her. And their child.
Their child.
Damn. When he’d felt as though he’d come home the night he’d danced with her, he’d been right.
Zoey was home.
His heart.
His soul.
The mother of his child.
His sweet seductress and his life.
And for the first time in his life, he was complete.
EPILOGUE
Two Weeks Later
“That is so not fair, Dad.” The teenager’s voice could be clearly heard outside the office door as Zoey Mackay pushed into the Mackay Marine Convenience store from the rental and fuel office attached to it.
Whatever her father said was muffled, but there was no mistaking the edge of frustration in the quieter response.
“I’m fifteen, not a baby,” Annette Mackay cried out. “And you don’t let me do anything.”
Zoey winced as she turned to Annette’s mother, Kelly Mackay, to see her propped back on a stool behind the sales counter, sneaker-clad feet resting on the counter, arms folded beneath her breasts, a look of long-suffering patience on her face.
Whatever Annette’s father, Rowdy, said in reply to the accusation had his daughter jerking the door open moments later and stomping into the store, tears turning her summer-green eyes the color of brilliant jewels, though not the first drop fell to her suntanned cheeks.
Shoulder-length, ribbon-straight black hair was pulled into a ponytail, her pretty features set into an expression of stubborn teenage fury, her fists clenched at the sides of the white sundress she wore over her bathing suit.
“Momma, you have to do something with him,” Annette cried out, her heart shattered into a million pieces if her voice was anything to go by. “He’s being completely unreasonable.”
Kelly dropped her feet from the counter, slid from her barstool, and glanced at the open doorway where her husband stood, amusement gleaming in his eyes, before her gaze moved to her daughter.
“Unreasonable? Again? Not your father, Annie. Such an idea shocks me.” And she sounded shocked too, Zoey thought as she ducked her head and moved behind the counter to join Kelly.
“It isn’t funny, Momma.” Annette was obviously within seconds of stomping her delicate little foot if her expression was anything to go by.
“Of course it’s funny.” Her father stepped out of the office, his expression mocking as his daughter turned to him with a look of such teenage disgust he stopped and narrowed his eyes on her. “The very fact that you actually believed I’d give you permission to go is the funniest part. I’m still laughing.”
Zoey smothered a smile as Kelly gave a little sign while throwing her husband a chiding look.
“You are just like Uncle Natches,” Annette cried out furiously, her face flushing in anger. “You would just lock me up until I’m fifty if you could.”
Rowdy seemed to consider the accusation. Bracing his hands on his hips he stared down at his delicate teenage daughter, the look on his face thoughtful.
“Fifty’s going a little far,” he finally retorted. “I’d settle for thirty. Maybe by then I’ll be so senile that the shenanigans you and your cousins get into won’t bother me near so . . .”
He stopped.
Zoey watched curiously as his head jerked up, his eyes meeting his wife’s as she seemed to choke before turning her back on him.
In Kelly’s eyes was such a wealth of laughter that Zoey was suddenly dying to know the private thought they’d obviously shared.
“Aren’t you supposed to be helping your cousins outside?” Rowdy gave his daughter a “daddy” glare, arms going across his chest in a display of pure male command. “Get to it now, before I start checking out those convents your uncle Natches keeps finding.”
“You are ruining my life,” Annette cried, the tone of pure teenage drama causing her mother to choke on her laughter again.
Tossing her thick black hair Miss Annette Theadora Mackay lifted her determined little chin and stalked out the door, pausing outside only long enough to slip her feet into colorful sandals before stalking along the side of the building.
“God.” Rowdy plowed his fingers through his hair in disgust. “I’m starting to repeat the same crap Dad used to yell when he was arguing with me, Dawg, and Natches.”
Kelly turned to him with a laugh. “Better lock the windows tonight. She was more determined to attend this party than the last few she’s demanded to go to.”
Rowdy’s look was filled with disgust. “She thinks she wants to go dance with that little brat that’s been hanging around the marina the last few weeks.” He turned his head to glare at the door before stepping closer and peeking out to check to be sure the brat in question wasn’t there. “He’s going to keep it up I’m going to call Natches.”