BANGED: Rock Stars, Bad Boys & Dirty Deeds Page 14

  He nodded and picked up James-David. The little boy squealed with delight and tugged on Damian’s beard. Father and son looked so alike it was like a dagger to the stomach.

  “Let’s give it a couple of weeks,” he said. “If it works out, you can keep James-David with you. Both my office and studio are soundproofed. He won’t bother me while I’m working, but we’ll need to order baby gates for the staircases and other security stuff.”

  Muireann’s stomach lurched. “Are you serious?”

  He shrugged. “Why not? My mother was a single parent. She’d have hated to be parted from me and vice versa. Besides, getting on and off the island in winter is by no means guaranteed. You might end up not seeing him for a couple of weeks. This is all assuming you decide to stay, of course.”

  “Oh, I’ll stay. Why wouldn’t I? I couldn’t have asked for a better solution.” Especially given the offhand way he’d dismissed her from his memory. Trying to reconcile the kind part of him with the ambitious, image-conscious rock star was a challenge.

  “Yeah…about the staying part.” Damian’s lips formed a hard line. “We had a bit of drama on the island yesterday.”

  “Alan mentioned that but didn’t fill me in on the specifics.”

  “Mary—” he began but she cut him off.

  “My name isn’t Mary.”

  He stared at her intently, a frown line appearing between his brows. “We’ve met before, haven’t we? I thought you were familiar the moment we met, but it was hard to see much of you underneath the raincoat yesterday.”

  Her heart skipped a beat and her grip tightened around James-David’s hand. She could lie, but what was the point? They had to have the conversation sooner or later. “Yes, we’ve met before.”

  His gaze moved over her face and down her body. The floor seemed to shift underneath her feet. Finally, his eyes rose to meet hers. “Not Mary,” he said in a voice thick with emotion. “Muireann from Australia.”

  She inclined her head. “You misheard my name yesterday. You were gone before I could correct you.”

  His gaze was riveted by James-David. Her stomach lurched harder than it had aboard the yacht. When his eyes rose to meet hers, she tasted bile.

  “How old did you say your son was?” he asked in a tone hardened by steel.

  “Old enough to be your son.”

  SEVEN

  Darko’s world clashed with the force of colliding tectonic plates. “I have a son.” It was a statement, not a question. The instant he’d recognized her as the gorgeous woman he’d had a fling with in Australia, he’d known.

  “Yes,” she said in a small voice. “James-David is your son.”

  He looked at the little boy standing beside her, sucking his thumb and staring at Darko with large blue eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked hoarsely. “I know we opted not to exchange phone numbers, but you could have contacted my manager.”

  “You assume I knew you were in a rock band.”

  He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Didn’t you?”

  “Shocking though this might sound to you, no. Hard rock isn’t my thing, and in publicity shots you wear crazy stage makeup. You introduced yourself to me as Damian. I had no reason to connect you with the lead-whatever in Confetti Underground.”

  He winced. “Lead guitarist.”

  “Well, then. We didn’t exactly spend our time together chatting.”

  No, they sure as hell hadn’t. Visions of her tight, tanned body danced before his eyes like an X-rated movie. She’d been fucking gorgeous. Still was. The extra pounds she’d put on since he’d last seen her only enhanced her curves.

  Then his gaze dropped to the kid. The little guy was adorable. Darko swallowed past the lump in his throat. In an effort to avoid a situation such as this, he’d been careful about contraception. But not, it seemed, careful enough.

  “Let me get this straight. You say you didn’t tell me about James-David because you didn’t know how to contact me.”

  “Correct.”

  “So at what point did you decide to inveigle your way into my household in the guise of my new housekeeper?”

  An angry flush stained her cheeks, and her eyes emitted sparks. “I didn’t inveigle my way anywhere. I applied for a six-month position working for Mr. Saunders. I had no idea Alan was your personal assistant or that you’d be my new boss.”

  “Showing up with James-David in tow wasn’t an attempt to emotionally ambush me?”

  “That assumes you have emotions to ambush,” she said icily. “Get over yourself, you arrogant twat. I brought James-David with me because the so-called friend who was supposed to babysit left me in the lurch.”

  He threw his arms up in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions. You have no idea how many women have pulled crazy stunts to get back stage at concerts or find out which hotel room was mine. It’s made me paranoid.”

  She was seriously angry now, practically quivering with rage. “Cut to the chase: you want a DNA test. Fine. Let’s do one. That’ll prove I’m not a conniving wannabe groupie.”

  Darko exhaled a sigh. “Calm down, Muireann. Yeah, we can do a DNA test eventually, but I know James-David is my son. I only have to look at him to know that.” He moved toward the bookshelf where he kept the old photo albums he’d inherited when his mother died. Extracting a large green album, he flicked to a page containing photos of him aged around eighteen months. He jabbed a photo with his index finger. “Check this out.”

  Muireann moved closer and peered over his shoulder. This close, her perfume teased his senses—something freshly sweet and floral. She sucked in a breath. “That could be a photo of James-David.”

  “Exactly. Which is why I have no reason to doubt paternity.”

  She stood back and blinked, the action drawing his attention to her large baby-blue eyes and impossibly long lashes. “What are we going to do?”

  He replaced the album on the shelf and took a deep breath. “We’ll do what we’d planned to do. You’ve applied to be my housekeeper, and I’ve already said James-David can stay with you. Let’s use this as an opportunity to get to know one another better.”

  Her smooth brow furrowed. “I’m confused. I thought you’d deny paternity and throw me out on my arse.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  “Why do you want us to stay?”

  “Because if James-David is my son, I intend to be part of his life. My father walked out when I was a baby. No way will I abandon my child.”

  Her jaw jutted in a combative fashion. “I’m his mother. It’s up to me to decide if you play a role in his life. For all I know, you’re a drug-addled rock star. Didn’t one your bandmates die of an overdose?”

  Whoa…that was below the belt. “Col, the lead singer of my band and my friend, died of a heroin overdose late last year. His addiction wasn’t contagious. I’ve never done more than dabble with drugs, and I haven’t touched them in years.”

  Her eyes clouded and her fingers flew to the necklace around her throat. For a petite woman, she had long, slim fingers. The memory of what those fingers had done to him sent a jolt of electricity through his veins. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “That was unfair. I just don’t know anything about you.”

  “You know what I like in bed.”

  She gave a low laugh. “Touché. Apart from sex, we’re perfect strangers. You’re James-David’s biological father, but I don’t know you well enough to be sure I want you involved in his life. I need to know you’d be a good influence and a steady presence. I’m not prepared to put up with someone who shows up whenever he feels like playing daddy and is gone when the whim passes.”

  “I’m not like that, Muireann. Give me a chance to prove that to you. Let’s use the opportunity of you and James-David living here to get to know one another properly.”

  She bit her lip, emotions flickering across her face as vivid as a film reel.

  He took a
deep breath. “There is something you should know, though. Yesterday we found what we thought was a dead body in one of the guesthouses.”

  Her lips parted in an O of horror.

  “Before you start screaming and running back to the boat, the body had disappeared by the time we got back with the police.”

  “Disappeared?” Her hand fluttered to her throat. “Is that supposed to reassure me?”

  “Sergeant Glenn and his colleague could find no trace that anyone had been in the bathroom. At the moment, we’re working on the assumption that it was a cruel prank by someone who objected to the sale of the island.”

  Her brow furrowed. “You think the corpse was a dummy? Why would anyone go to the trouble of putting together such an elaborate hoax?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve received a few nastygrams since I moved out here. At any rate, a new security team will be starting in a couple of days. In the meantime, we’re taking turns keeping an eye on the surveillance cameras.”

  “Do you think we’re in danger?”

  He exhaled a sigh. “I doubt it. As unlikely as the ruse with a fake corpse sounds, it’s still more plausible than someone coming all the way out to Inish Glas to murder a man, dress him in my sunglasses, and then remove the body after we’d discovered it.”

  “True. That does sound farfetched.”

  “So you’ll stay?” he asked, hearing the hopeful note in his voice. “At least for a little while?”

  She bit her lip. “Can I sleep on it?”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  His gaze dropped to James-David, who was examining Bran with interest. Bran opened one lazy eye and continued his snooze. Darko cleared his throat. “After you’ve unpacked, the butler wants to give you a tour of the house. Do you want to leave James-David with me while you’re busy with Peters?”

  Uncertainty clouded her eyes for a moment. “Won’t he bother you?”

  “Nah. I’m just strumming my guitar and hanging with Bran. The baby can play while I work.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “All right,” she said finally. “I’ll drop him down to you when we’re ready.”

  When the door closed behind Muireann and James-David, Darko loosened the collar of his shirt. His heart was racing. Despite his brave words, he was feeling anything but calm. As the son of a deadbeat dad, he knew all too well what it was like to be abandoned by a parent. No fucking way would he do it to his kid.

  And James-David was his son. A DNA test would only confirm what he already knew. But was he capable of being a good father? He had no clue. One thing was for damn sure: he was going to give it his best shot.

  EIGHT

  Muireann awoke the next morning to find James-David prizing open her eyelids.

  “Mama. Mama. Akey, akey.”

  “Ouch.” She caught his chubby hand and pretended to eat it.

  The baby squealed with laughter.

  “You make an interesting bed companion,” Muireann said, attacking him with tickles. “You’re a bonafide cover stealer.”

  James-David’s only response was a loud fart, followed by more hysterical giggles.

  Reacting to the unfamiliar surroundings, James-David had slept badly—until Muireann caved and allowed him into her bed for snuggles. While this solution resulted in a good night’s sleep for the baby, his mother was less fortunate. She lay awake for hours, trying to decide if she’d made a mistake coming to the island. Damian hadn’t reacted the way she’d expected. No disbelief. No anger. No screaming for his lawyer. Just calm acceptance…until he’d thrown a grenade into the conversation by mentioning the disappearing body.

  Muireann shuddered. She had no idea what to make of that tale. Part of her wanted to run the instant he’d told her. On the other hand, a dead body appearing and then disappearing seemed so far-fetched that she was inclined to agree with Damian’s assessment: a nasty practical joke.

  When James-David farted a second time, Muireann laughed and gathered him into her arms. “I’ll take that as my cue to get you up and changed.”

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded across to the wardrobe. The room the butler had assigned them was spacious. It boasted a walk-in wardrobe, a huge en suite bathroom, and a sitting room area. A large oil painting of Uluru—or Ayer’s Rock—adorned one wall. She recognized the scene from one of the sketches Damian had shown her in Australia. He was talented.

  She opened the wardrobe and selected their outfits for the day. Once she and James-David were washed and dressed, they headed down for breakfast. They met Alan at the foot of the stairs, looking dapper in a canary colored suit.

  “Am I late?” Muireann asked, glancing around.

  “You’re right on time. With the exception of Darko, no one starts work before nine.”

  She regarded the empty dining table in the far left section of the open plan ground floor. “Do you eat breakfast in the kitchen?”

  “Yes. Peters is out and about but Darko and Jean-Baptiste are still eating.”

  “I thought you said he was an early riser.”

  Alan broke into a grin. “He is. Looks like he waited to have breakfast with you two.”

  Muireann brushed a stray lock of still damp hair from her face with an unsteady hand. “In that case, we’d better go down right away.”

  As she took the stairs to the kitchen, her heart beat a wild rhythm. For better or worse, Damian’s effect on her was as strong today as it had been two years ago. Why did he have to be the man to reawaken her dormant libido? Being sexually attracted to him was a complication she didn’t need.

  In the kitchen, Damian and Jean-Baptiste were devouring full Irish breakfasts. Their plates overflowed with sausages, bacon, black and white pudding, baked beans, fried eggs, and fried tomatoes and mushrooms.

  When Damian’s gaze rose to meet hers, the butterflies in her stomach took flight.

  “Morning,” he said with a tentative smile. “Help yourselves to food. Jean-Baptiste made his cardiac arrest special.”

  Muireann took a seat and positioned James-David on her lap. “I didn’t know the French were keen on such heavy breakfasts.”

  Jean-Baptiste blinked and his eyes darted to the side. “When in Ireland, I must do as the Irish, non?”

  Muireann’s stomach was tied up in knots. She washed down a slice of toast with black coffee and fed James-David a generous helping of chopped up sausage and baked beans.

  After they finished eating, Jean-Baptiste cleared their plates and Muireann followed Damian upstairs. Her heart constricted at the sight of Damian carrying her—their—son on his broad shoulders. Having been a single parent for eighteen months, it was going to take a while to get used to the idea.

  In the open plan, Damian turned to her, a frown line marring his forehead. “Have you decided what you’ll do?”

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “As long as you’re sure the business with the body was a hoax, we’ll stay until the weekend.”

  His relief was palpable. “That’s great news.”

  “When is the security team due to arrive?”

  “On Wednesday—weather permitting. In the meantime, I’m happy to accompany you and James-David if you’d like to explore the island.”

  Muireann glanced out the window. Rain fell in heavy sheets and the force of the wind bent the trees like bowing dancers. “I think we’ll give it a rain check—literally.”

  “I meant once the bad weather passes,” Damian said, laughing. “I have no desire to venture out in a deluge.”

  “Yes. I’d like that.”

  His expression turned serious. “I want you to feel safe here. No harm will come to you and the baby on my watch.”

  Muireann shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling gauche and tongue-tied. This man had the power to turn her into a blushing teenager. “I guess I’d better find Peters. I’m helping him organize the linen closet this morning. Are you sure you’ll be okay with James-David?”

  “We’ll be fine. I
even have protective earphones for him to wear while I’m strumming my guitar.”

  “That was quick. Where did you find kid-sized earphones?”

  “Alan unearthed them from an unpacked moving box. We bought them when my manager’s kid came to visit.” Damian swung James-David down to the floor, making the little boy squeal.

  She bit her lip, feeling hope bubble up inside her. “What about a babysitter? Should I keep looking?”

  “If James-David is my son, I want to get to know him properly. Having him live here is ideal.”

  Relief flowed through her. The closer the time drew, the more she dreaded leaving her son behind on the mainland. “You might feel less enthusiastic when he pesters you while you’re working.”

  Damian’s face broke into a grin that made her ache in all the right places. “I’ll cope.”

  “Okay. I’d better get to work. Bye, James-David.” She dropped a kiss onto her son’s chubby cheek.

  He patted her cheek with a sticky hand. “Mama.”

  With that single word, all Muireann’s fears and worries melted away. Whatever happened, they were together. She’d do anything for her child, even risk her heart.

  NINE

  Darko scanned the letter in his hand and glowered at his personal assistant. His soon-to-be former personal assistant, apparently. “What the fuck is this?”

  “Such language in front of an infant.” Alan feigned a shocked expression.

  James-David perched on Darko’s lap, playing with a guitar tuner. It was the baby’s fifth day on the island. He and Darko had settled into a pleasant morning routine of music and play while Muireann worked.

  Except for the looming DNA test results, life on Inish Glas was peaceful. No corpses had appeared or disappeared. No baby mamas had showed up unexpectedly. No disasters had occurred to upset his temperamental French chef. Darko had allowed himself to believe that the upheaval of the last week was at an end. Apparently, his hopes had been premature.

  “Are you serious about quitting?”

  Alan dropped his gaze to his handmade Italian loafers. “I did warn you.”