“I think you have some pretty solid views on relationships,” she complimented.
He winced. “If that was so, I’d have a committed relationship of my own with maybe one or two rug rats underfoot. Although, I’m not in a hurry for children. I want time with my wife. I want her to myself, as selfish as that may sound.”
“If you’re selfish, then so am I. I’ll make a confession, one I’ve never given anyone else.”
“Oh, now I’m intrigued.”
She laughed softly. “A bit ago, when I said that part about maybe now I’d have a husband and children. Well, the truth is, I’ve never been in a hurry for kids either. It’s easy to say what I might have when there’s no possibility of it, you know?”
“Yeah, I do know. So you’re saying you don’t want children?”
“Maybe? I don’t really know. I guess I haven’t met a man who made me think seriously about settling down and bearing offspring. I’m not convinced I’ll be terribly good at it. And like you, I’d like some time with my lover. Just the two of us. I have such dreams about going places together. Seeing new and exciting things . . .”
She trailed off and looked self-consciously over at Damon. He smiled warmly at her.
“I think we have a lot in common, Serena mine.”
Her body hummed with pleasure, and she squeezed his fingers. They did have a lot in common except the one looming obstacle. And it was a biggie.
She wanted a fantasy. He wanted the real thing.
With a resigned sigh, she turned to look out her window at the passing cypress swamp. It wouldn’t do any good to allow herself to become too emotionally invested in Damon. They wanted different things. And she could never give herself so unreservedly to a man on a permanent basis.
CHAPTER 25
Damon’s mother was sitting in a porch swing waiting for them when they drove up in the late afternoon. Serena wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, maybe a sweet, silver-haired lady with an apron. Now she felt pretty silly when confronted with the gorgeous, young-looking woman who stood and beamed as Damon got out of the car.
She was wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt, and her hair hung to her shoulders. Not a single silver hair marred the deep chestnut color, so close to Damon’s own. Where his eyes were a chocolate brown, his mother’s were a sparkling green.
Damon walked around and helped Serena from the car then slipped his hand in hers as they walked toward his mother. She greeted them at the steps, opening her arms to Damon.
Her eyes glittered with tears as she hugged her son, and Serena felt her own throat tighten at the emotional reunion.
“It’s so good to have you home, son,” she said as she pulled away. Then she turned her gaze to Serena and smiled warmly. “I’m Josephine Roche, Damon’s mother.”
Serena smiled in return but before she could open her mouth, Damon put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close.
“Mom, this is Serena James.”
“I’m so glad to meet you, Serena.”
“I’m very glad to meet you as well, Mrs. Roche.”
“Please call me Jo. It’s what I’m used to.”
“Mom, if you’ll take Serena inside, I’ll get our bags.”
“I’d be glad to. Serena? If you’ll come with me. I have tea made, and supper will be ready in half an hour. I made Damon’s favorite. Sausage gumbo.”
“So what will you and Serena eat?” Damon asked innocently.
Jo laughed then planted both her hands on Damon’s cheeks and kissed him soundly. “I’m so glad you’re here. You’ve been away too long.”
“I know, Mom. I’m sorry,” he said softly.
She smiled a little sadly and patted him on the cheek. “I know how hard it is for you.”
He kissed her palm then pulled her hand away and squeezed before letting it go. “You two go on in. I’ll be right behind you.”
Serena followed Jo inside the sprawling southern home. The porch completely wrapped around and butted into a wooden deck in the back of the house. Serena stood at the window looking out over the bayou that snaked its way through the Roches’ property.
“Great view, isn’t it?” Jo asked beside her.
Serena turned to take the glass of tea that Jo offered and nodded. “Do you have alligators?”
Jo grinned. “A few. Damon used to go hunting them when he was a teenager. Always swore he’d get one. He and his father spent many hours up and down these swamps. They caught plenty of catfish, but never any gators.”
“You’re not telling all my secrets are you, Mom?” Damon asked as he came to stand behind Serena.
He put his arm around her waist and dropped a kiss on top of her head. Serena tensed, not entirely comfortable with the display of affection in front of a woman she’d just met, but Jo smiled openly in delight.
“I thought we could eat out on the deck this evening. We can watch the sun go down and look for fireflies over the bayou,” Jo said.
Damon stilled against her and she turned around to see a sad smile crossing his face. “Just like old times.”
Serena glanced back at Jo, whose face reflected a sad poignancy even though she too smiled. She reached out and squeezed Damon’s hand. “Yes, just like old times.”
Then she turned and reached to squeeze Serena’s hand. “Why don’t you let Damon show you around while I set the gumbo back on to warm. I’ll call you two when it’s time to set the table.”
“Still a slave driver, I see,” Damon said.
“Damn right. I cook it. You can at least set the table and clear up afterward.”
He leaned over and brushed a kiss across his mother’s forehead. “With the way you cook, I’m getting the best end of the bargain.”
“You always were a charmer. Just like your father.”
The two exchanged sorrowful glances before Damon took Serena’s elbow and urged her toward the triple-glass French doors that overlooked the deck.
“I’ll take you to see my favorite fishing holes,” he said as he opened the door.
Warm, muggy air stifled Serena’s breathing as she followed Damon outside. It was a good hour before sunset, and the temperature was near its highest point of the day.
“My father built this,” Damon said as he ran his hand along the cedar railing of the porch.
“It’s beautiful.” She observed him for a long moment before biting the bullet and taking the plunge. “I take it your father passed away?”
Damon slowly nodded. “Two years ago. He was fishing.” He turned and pointed to a bend in the bayou. “Right over there. My mother found him slumped over. He had a massive heart attack and died on the spot. He never had a chance.”
She touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“He was the best,” Damon said quietly. Though he didn’t overtly acknowledge her gesture, he put his hand over hers and left it there.
“You haven’t been home since?” she asked. He appeared to be so close to his mother. It seemed odd that he’d stay away so long.
A sad, weary look entered his eyes, dulling them to a drab brown. “No. I tried. But it was too painful. I got all the way to the driveway, and I turned around and drove back to Houston. Pretty cowardly.”
He moved to the railing and rested both hands on the wood, leaning out over it as he stared over the cypress clogged bayou. “It hurt my mom. I knew it, but still, I couldn’t make myself come back. I couldn’t face being here without him.”
“Why now?” she asked softly. Why with her?
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve missed my mom. I’ve needed to face her, this house. Needed to realize that my staying away doesn’t alter the fact that he’s gone. And maybe it seemed easier with you.”