It’s a small house, with brick cladding, and although the lawn looks freshly mown, the garden’s a little overgrown. Delaney’s blue Suzuki Swift sits in the driveway.

That’s the place.

I pull up outside and just look at the house. What if Amelia is my daughter? What happens to us then? Is there a chance we could be a family, or am I reading way too much into the easy interactions I’ve had with Delaney? And how do I protect them both from the media attention they’d get just by being associated with me?

I’ve got to try.

Jumping out of the car, I head to the front door and before I can second-guess myself, I knock.

“Just a minute.” Her voice comes from inside.

The door opens.

I catch my breath.

She’s dressed in a pair of figure-hugging jeans, and a tight white shirt. Holy shit. It’s like she’s been poured into her clothing, and she looks incredible.

“Josh?”

I do jazz hands. “That’s me.”

“How did you get my address?” She leans against the door, the side of her face pressed against the edge like it’s giving her comfort.

“Well, I went to the diner, but no one would tell me.”

She nods. “I’d expect that.”

“Your friend Damon was there. Oh, he doesn’t like me. Pania threw us both out.”

At that, she straightens up and draws a deep breath. “Ignore him. I already told him to leave you alone.”

“You did?”

“He seems to think if he acts like some kind of white knight that I’ll fall into his arms. But real life doesn’t work that way.”

I can’t help my smile. “It did once.”

“You were different.” She sucks in a big breath. “Anyway. How did you find my place?”

“Out in the street, I ran into a friend of yours. Mrs Randell.”

She smiles and nods. “She’s a regular coffee customer.”

“Yes, and she’s got a daughter who’s apparently a huge fan of Reece Evans. Remember Reece, the friend you never met?”

“Oh, I know all about Reece.” She grins, and I’m almost hurt by her reaction. Reece has that effect on women.

“Anyway, he’s going to call her, and in return—”

“She told you where to find me.”

I shrug. “I’d have done almost anything to get your address. If it wasn’t her, I’d have sweet-talked someone else.”

“Could have looked in the white pages. My name’s on the website you ordered your burger through.”

I hesitate. Not once did that even cross my mind. “I’m a dumbass.”

“Well, yeah, but you did find me. So maybe not so much of a dumbass after all.” She says dumbass with an exaggerated American accent.

“Gonna let me in?”

“Depends on what you want.”

“I think you know.”