His gaze was teasing. “As normal as they are between you and me.” He smiled. “You’re a real handful, baby, and I mean it in the nicest way.”
“Then maybe you should think twice. Maybe you should find someone more amenable. I’m sure the line of willing candidates is long. You don’t have to marry me just because I’m having your baby.”
As if, he thought. “That sounds like I’d better get down on my knees.”
It was her turn to smile. “Tempting.”
“Hey. I’m not talking about sex, Katherine. I’m serious about this marriage.” And coming out of his chair, he picked up the small shopping bag and package, closed the distance between them, sank slowly to one knee, and put the bag in her lap. “Open it,” he said. “Please?” he quickly added, because he’s spoken a shade too bluntly and her mouth had started to purse. “Sorry. Really. Give me a break. I’ve never done this before.”
She blew out a breath. “Me either.”
For a few moments only the sound of ribbons sliding and paper crinkling broke the silence.
Kate looked inside the bag and went motionless.
Why did he suddenly feel as though he were standing in front of a firing squad? “Take your pick, baby,” he said, velvet soft, as if too loud a sound would startle her from her trance. “Or take them all. I didn’t know what you’d like.”
She still didn’t move.
Christ, he could hear the bolts sliding back on the rifles. “Don’t break my heart, baby,” he whispered.
The look in his eyes almost made her cry. This was a man who never asked anyone for anything, who had faced every adversity alone.
She put her hand in the bag, saw his shoulders relax, saw him slowly smile, and knew what loving someone meant. It meant taking away a young boy’s hurt, laughing at a strong man’s smile, closing your eyes when he touched you because you were melting inside. She smiled faintly. Or having him line up little boxes on your pajama-clad legs as you take them out and hand them to him. But even loving him with all her heart, she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “So much, Dominic.”
“Not really,” he replied casually. “I left most of them at home.”
“Oh God, Dominic.”
“Come on, baby. If I have to learn to be more open with you, you have to learn to deal with my money. It’s yours too. Okay?” He stared at her, gave her a small smile. “Okay?”
She took a breath, swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“See, it’s not so easy to change is it?” he murmured, beginning to open the ring boxes. “But we’re going to do it. Come on, baby”—he touched her bottom lip gently—“we can do anything, you and I.”
She nodded, slid her fingers over his hand. “It must be the baby,” she whispered. “I feel like crying every second.”
“Cry all you want. I’ll buy a tissue company. You’ll never run out.”
She laughed.
“Hey, I mean it. Melanie cried all through her pregnancies. But pick out a ring first, then I’ll show you my love letter, then you can cry.”
She looked at him in surprise. “You wrote a love letter?”
“Yup.” Then he opened each box, slid the rings on her fingers—one through ten, all enormous diamonds.
She looked at the glistening display, bit back her comment about the outrageous expense, and pointed. “This one.”
His eyes glinted with pleasure. “I was hoping you’d say that. It’s my favorite too.”
The diamond solitaire was a forty-carat, D-flawless, emerald-cut stone that had just come on the market. A rare jewel the likes of which appear in the cutting rooms perhaps once every ten years.
Sliding off the other rings, Dominic casually dropped them on a nearby table, then turned back. Taking her hand in his, he said with ceremonial formality and a more typical breathtaking smile, “Would you do me the honor of marrying me, Miss Hart?”
For a second Kate was overcome by the immensity of the question and the smaller fear that she loved him too much. That he was too easy to love not just by her, but by every woman.
Months past questioning his feelings, Dominic put his hand to his ear and grinned.
A big breath, an answering smile. “Yes,” Kate said.
Leaning forward, Dominic touched his forehead to hers and whispered, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” she said as softly.
“The pleasure is all mine, baby.” He cupped her face lightly, then sat back on his heels, picked up the small package, and put it on her lap. “Just look. See what you think.”
He watched her unwrapping the package with an uncharacteristic restlessness. “You can tear the paper,” he said and proceeded to do just that. Tossing the wrapping aside, he nodded at the small box.
“This?” she said teasingly.
He lifted his brows ever so faintly. “Are you looking for a spanking?”
“Maybe.”
“And maybe I’ll give you one if you open that.”
“How can a girl refuse?”
“No shit.”
She punched him.
“I was referring only to you, of course.”
“Damn right you’d better be.” But she was smiling too, until a second later, when she lifted the lid on the box and her eyes filled with tears. The tiniest little onesie lay inside, white and precious and achingly beautiful. She lifted it up and sniffled, “How did you think of this?”
“Then maybe you should think twice. Maybe you should find someone more amenable. I’m sure the line of willing candidates is long. You don’t have to marry me just because I’m having your baby.”
As if, he thought. “That sounds like I’d better get down on my knees.”
It was her turn to smile. “Tempting.”
“Hey. I’m not talking about sex, Katherine. I’m serious about this marriage.” And coming out of his chair, he picked up the small shopping bag and package, closed the distance between them, sank slowly to one knee, and put the bag in her lap. “Open it,” he said. “Please?” he quickly added, because he’s spoken a shade too bluntly and her mouth had started to purse. “Sorry. Really. Give me a break. I’ve never done this before.”
She blew out a breath. “Me either.”
For a few moments only the sound of ribbons sliding and paper crinkling broke the silence.
Kate looked inside the bag and went motionless.
Why did he suddenly feel as though he were standing in front of a firing squad? “Take your pick, baby,” he said, velvet soft, as if too loud a sound would startle her from her trance. “Or take them all. I didn’t know what you’d like.”
She still didn’t move.
Christ, he could hear the bolts sliding back on the rifles. “Don’t break my heart, baby,” he whispered.
The look in his eyes almost made her cry. This was a man who never asked anyone for anything, who had faced every adversity alone.
She put her hand in the bag, saw his shoulders relax, saw him slowly smile, and knew what loving someone meant. It meant taking away a young boy’s hurt, laughing at a strong man’s smile, closing your eyes when he touched you because you were melting inside. She smiled faintly. Or having him line up little boxes on your pajama-clad legs as you take them out and hand them to him. But even loving him with all her heart, she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “So much, Dominic.”
“Not really,” he replied casually. “I left most of them at home.”
“Oh God, Dominic.”
“Come on, baby. If I have to learn to be more open with you, you have to learn to deal with my money. It’s yours too. Okay?” He stared at her, gave her a small smile. “Okay?”
She took a breath, swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“See, it’s not so easy to change is it?” he murmured, beginning to open the ring boxes. “But we’re going to do it. Come on, baby”—he touched her bottom lip gently—“we can do anything, you and I.”
She nodded, slid her fingers over his hand. “It must be the baby,” she whispered. “I feel like crying every second.”
“Cry all you want. I’ll buy a tissue company. You’ll never run out.”
She laughed.
“Hey, I mean it. Melanie cried all through her pregnancies. But pick out a ring first, then I’ll show you my love letter, then you can cry.”
She looked at him in surprise. “You wrote a love letter?”
“Yup.” Then he opened each box, slid the rings on her fingers—one through ten, all enormous diamonds.
She looked at the glistening display, bit back her comment about the outrageous expense, and pointed. “This one.”
His eyes glinted with pleasure. “I was hoping you’d say that. It’s my favorite too.”
The diamond solitaire was a forty-carat, D-flawless, emerald-cut stone that had just come on the market. A rare jewel the likes of which appear in the cutting rooms perhaps once every ten years.
Sliding off the other rings, Dominic casually dropped them on a nearby table, then turned back. Taking her hand in his, he said with ceremonial formality and a more typical breathtaking smile, “Would you do me the honor of marrying me, Miss Hart?”
For a second Kate was overcome by the immensity of the question and the smaller fear that she loved him too much. That he was too easy to love not just by her, but by every woman.
Months past questioning his feelings, Dominic put his hand to his ear and grinned.
A big breath, an answering smile. “Yes,” Kate said.
Leaning forward, Dominic touched his forehead to hers and whispered, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” she said as softly.
“The pleasure is all mine, baby.” He cupped her face lightly, then sat back on his heels, picked up the small package, and put it on her lap. “Just look. See what you think.”
He watched her unwrapping the package with an uncharacteristic restlessness. “You can tear the paper,” he said and proceeded to do just that. Tossing the wrapping aside, he nodded at the small box.
“This?” she said teasingly.
He lifted his brows ever so faintly. “Are you looking for a spanking?”
“Maybe.”
“And maybe I’ll give you one if you open that.”
“How can a girl refuse?”
“No shit.”
She punched him.
“I was referring only to you, of course.”
“Damn right you’d better be.” But she was smiling too, until a second later, when she lifted the lid on the box and her eyes filled with tears. The tiniest little onesie lay inside, white and precious and achingly beautiful. She lifted it up and sniffled, “How did you think of this?”
