He smirks at me. «This is why.» From the inside breast pocket he pulls out the small box I gave him, containing my present. He slings the jacket over the back of the couch and places the box on top.
Seize the day, Ana, my subconscious prods me. Well, it’s after midnight, so technically it’s his birthday.
«Open it,” I whisper, and my heart starts pounding.
«I was hoping you’d say that,” he murmurs. «This has been driving me crazy.»
I grin impishly at him. Jeez, I feel giddy. He gives me his shy smile, and I melt despite my thumping heart, delighting in his amused yet intrigued expression. With deft long fingers, he unwraps and opens the box. His brow creases as he fishes out a small, rectangular, plastic keychain bearing a picture made up of tiny pixels that flash on and off like an LED screen. It depicts the Seattle skyline, focusing on the Space Needle, with the word SEATTLE written boldly across the landscape, flashing on and off.
He stares at it for a moment and then gazes at me bemused, a frown marring his lovely brow.
«Turn it over,” I whisper, holding my breath.
He does, and his eyes shoot to mine, wide and gray, alive with wonder and joy. His lips part in disbelief.
The word yes flashes on and off on the key ring.
«Happy birthday,” I whisper.
«You’ll marry me?» he whispers, incredulous.
I nod nervously, flushing and anxious and not quite believing his reaction—this man whom I thought I’d lost. How could he not understand how much I love him?
«Say it,” he orders softly, his gaze intense and hot.
«Yes, I’ll marry you.»
He inhales sharply and moves suddenly, grabbing me and swinging me round in a most un–Fiftylike manner. He’s laughing, young and carefree, radiating joyful elation. I grab his arms to hold on, feeling his muscles ripple beneath my fingers, and his infectious laughter sweeps me up—dizzy, addled, a girl totally and utterly smitten with her beautiful man. He puts me down and kisses me. Hard. His hands are on either side of my face, his tongue insistent, persuasive… arousing.
«Oh, Ana,” he breathes against my lips, and it’s an exultation that leaves me reeling. He loves me, of that I have no doubt, and I savor the taste of this delicious man, this man I thought I might never see again. His joy is evident—his eyes shining, his youthful smile—and his relief is almost palpable.
«I thought I’d lost you,” I murmur, still dazzled and breathless from his kiss.
«Baby, it will take more than a malfunctioning 135 to keep me away from you.»
«135?»
«Charlie Tango. She’s a Eurocopter 135, the safest in its class.» Some unnamed but dark emotion crosses his face briefly, distracting me. What isn’t he saying? Before I can ask him, he stills and looks down at me, frowning, and for a moment I think he’s going to tell me. I blink up into his speculative gray eyes.
«Wait a minute. You gave this to me before we saw Flynn,” he says, holding up the keychain. He looks almost horrified.
Oh dear, where’s he going with this? I nod, keeping a straight face.
His mouth drops open.
I shrug apologetically. «I wanted you to know that whatever Flynn said, it wouldn’t make a difference to me.»
Christian blinks at me in disbelief. «So all yesterday evening, when I was begging you for an answer, I had it already?» He’s dismayed. I nod again, trying desperately to gauge his reaction. He gazes at me in stupefied wonder, but then narrows his eyes and his mouth twists with amused irony.
«All that worry,” he whispers ominously. I grin at him and shrug once more. «Oh, don’t try and get cute with me, Miss Steele. Right now, I want …» He runs his hand through his hair, then shakes his head and changes tack.
«I can’t believe you left me hanging.» His whisper is laced with disbelief. His expression alters subtly, his eyes gleaming wickedly, his mouth twitching into a carnal smile.
Holy hell. A thrill runs through me. What’s he thinking?
«I believe some retribution is in order, Miss Steele,” he says softly.
Retribution? Oh shit! I know he’s playing—but I take a cautious step back from him anyway.
He grins. «Is that the game?» he whispers. «Because I will catch you.» And his eyes
burn with a bright playful intensity. «And you’re biting your lip,” he says threateningly.
All of my insides tighten at once. Oh my. My future husband wants to play. I take another step back, then turn to run—but in vain. Christian grabs me, and in one easy swoop while I squeal with delight, surprise, and shock. He hoists me over his shoulder and heads down the hall.
«Christian!» I hiss, mindful that José is upstairs, though whether he could hear us is doubtful. I steady myself by clasping his lower back, then on a brave impulse, I swat his behind. He swats me right back.
«Ow!» I yelp.
«Shower time,” he declares triumphantly.
«Put me down!» I try and fail to sound disapproving. My struggle is futile—his arm is firmly clamped over my thighs—and for some reason I cannot stop giggling.
«Fond of these shoes?» he asks amused as he opens the door to his bathroom.
