Free The Pregnancy Test by Erin McCarthy

been playing. He came back over to Mandy, retrieved the rest of the winnings, and finished doling them out, until everyone had received something.
    The ladies laughed, beamed, gave him cheek kisses, and called him “blue eyes.”
    He kept a bottle of rum and the shell necklace, which he undid the clasp on as he stood in front of her. “Lift your hair, Mandy.”
    She did, and he put the necklace around her neck, hooked the clasp, and stood back, inspecting the way it lay on her chest. “Thank you, Damien,” she said, a little stunned, a little touched, and a little worried.
    The way he looked right now, serious yet happy, good-looking and generous, she had a feeling her dreams about him might not revolve around just sex anymore.
    “Perfect,” he said. His eyes locked with hers. “Beautiful.”
    She had wrapped a sarong around her waist, but hadn’t pulled on a shirt, and the necklace hovered above her cleavage, cool on her warm skin. Without meaning to, her fingers trailed across the shells as she stared deep into his ocean blue eyes, and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
    The bingo women didn’t suffer from the same problem. “Hold on to this one, honey. He’s a keeper.”
    “That is one hot look he’s sending her.”
    “If I were thirty years younger…”
    “You’d still be old enough to be his mother.”
    The speaker was eighty if she was a day, wearing a straw hat that probably weighed more than its owner, and Mandy and Damien both laughed, the moment broken. But Mandy still knew that something was happening, something that shouldn’t. Something that had no place in her life now that she was going to be a mother, with huge responsibilities.
    She was falling for Damien.
    Which meant she should beat a hasty retreat, eat dinner alone in her room, and pray for a dreamless night of sleep.
    Then he smiled and held out his hand. “Ready for dinner?”
    “Absolutely. Let’s do it.”
    Now there was the way to hang tough.
     
    Damien wished he could blame it on the rum, but the truth was he hadn’t swallowed a drop. He’d had ice water with his dinner and enough food for three people.
    Which didn’t explain why he was feeling so incredibly relaxed, mellow, why he had kicked off his shoes, rolled his pants up, and was letting the sand fall over his feet.
    “It’s such a gorgeous evening,” Mandy said, staring out at the waves hitting the beach.
    She was gorgeous. After bingo, they’d separated to change for dinner, and Mandy had put her hair up into a little twist on top of her head, soft, wispy tendrils falling around her face. She wore a coral-colored sundress, and the silly little necklace he’d won was resting between the two straps.
    New York seemed a million miles and a lifetime away. There was nothing but soft island music, the crash of the waves, a balmy breeze, and Mandy.
    “I still can’t believe they brought the whole buffet down to the beach. It’s amazing.”
    She was amazing. She had chatted with him throughout a long and leisurely dinner. They had talked about her childhood, her distant father, and her overbearing mother, and he had realized from her stories that Mandy had been given lots of material things growing up, but she had craved her parents’ attention more than anything. It made him want to put a call through to England and inform them they were idiots for neglecting their intelligent and compassionate daughter.
    “My mother would be horrified at eating on the beach. ‘Think of the bugs!’ she’d say,” Mandy said with a laugh. “‘The germs! The sand. That soup probably has a tablespoon of sand instead of salt in it.’” She shook her head. “It’s not civilized enough for her.”
    “She doesn’t like nature?”
    “She likes nature when it’s been controlled. In a proper English garden.”
    Damien sipped his water. “My mom would love it here. She hates Chicago winters. They’re hoping to move to Florida when my dad retires next year.”
    He