Rebecca had just watched T.J. drift off to sleep when a knock sounded on her bedroom door. She hurried across before the sound could rouse T.J. and yanked the door open.

      Damon stood there, his knuckles poised to rap again, his eyes guarded. “I came to say goodbye.”

      For an instant her heart stopped and she felt winded.

      He must have seen the shock in her eyes, because he pushed his hands into his hair. “I’m leaving to go to L.A. tomorrow, remember? For two weeks?”

      The business trip. Of course. Why had she been so shaken? Perhaps because “goodbye” was her worse nightmare? Because he’d said he needed time, and deep down she feared that meant it was over? “Come in.” Rebecca stood aside.

      Something—desire?—flashed in Damon’s eyes. But he didn’t move. “No, I’m not coming in. I wanted to give you a cheque.”

      Rebecca frowned. “A cheque? For what?”

      “For the time and work you’ve spent on the wedding so far—to tide you over until I get back.”

      “I can’t take it.” She backed away from the cheque he was thrusting at her.

      “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve earned it. That’s why you came back to Auckland originally. Take it.”

      “That’s not why I came back to Auckland.” Her heart tore and her temper snapped. “You are so blind!”

      His head snapped back. “Okay, so why did you agree to do the wedding then?”

      She looked away. “Because your mother was sick and you were worried about her.” Her voice was low, even to her own ears.

      “Spare me! I can’t talk now.” He thrust it at her and started to walk away.

      Without looking at the face of the cheque, she tore it across. “I can’t accept it. It’s in breach of my contract.”

      That stopped him in his tracks. He swung around, his eyes narrow slits in that barbarian face. “What contract?”

      “The contract selling Dream Occasions. I have a restraining clause.”

      “But you sold the business nearly four years ago. It would be unreasonable that you couldn’t work as a wedding planner in the city after two years.”

      “I had a clause restraining me from contacting old clients for five years. That’s not up yet.”

      “My mother was never your client.”

      “But you were.”

      And she saw the memory hit him. When he’d thrown the cheque at her the night before his wedding to Fliss, told her to take it as payment for the work she’d done for him and Fliss. Defiantly she’d taken it, holding the gaze that was full of contempt. At first she’d kept it as a reminder of her stupidity for falling for a man who hated her.

      And later, when he’d served the separation agreement on Fliss, she’d endorsed the cheque and given it to Fliss. When Fliss died, the proceeds of Fliss’s estate together with the payout from Fliss’s life insurance policy had all been invested.T.J. would inherit a tidy sum when he was twenty-five.

      “So, I’m sorry, I can’t accept that payment.” She held Damon’s narrowed gaze, refusing to drop her own.

      “Why?”

      She pretended to misunderstand him. “I told you—the contract.”

      “No.” He made an impatient gesture. “Why did you agree to help with the wedding?”

      She gave a little huff of impatience. “Don’t you listen to anything I say? I told you that, too. Because your mother was ill. And you were worried about her. How could I turn my back on you both then? When you were suffering? How could I walk away when your mother might be dying?”

      He flinched. “It was the one thing guaranteed to change your mind, wasn’t it? After all the losses you have suffered, you couldn’t leave me to face the chance that my mother might die alone. And I never even realised. Stupid!” He banged his palm against his forehead. “But you should still have told me you couldn’t accept payment.”

      “I did. I kept repeating it. But you wouldn’t listen!”

      “I thought that you agreed to do the wedding because I doubled my offer. I thought it was the money. And when you told me your mother had deserted you and James, that you didn’t know who your father was, I started to understand why you were driven to be so self-sufficient. I realised why money is so important to you and for the first time it stopped maddening me that I’d had to pay you a damned fortune to get you back to Auckland. But, as usual, I screwed up.” His eyes were a dark, pained blue. “I don’t know anything about what goes on in that beautiful head, do I? God, what a mess.” He sank his hands into his face. When he finally raised his head, Damon looked haggard. “It never changes, does it?”

      “It really doesn’t matter,” she said.

      Damon watched her with an expression she could not read. The silence was unnerving. At last he exhaled and said flatly,

      “It matters.” Then he turned on his heel and walked away.