from: [email protected]
date: June 8, 2:16 PM
subject: Yes to both
I’m not teasing.
from: [email protected]
date: June 8, 11:28 AM
subject: Yes you are
You’ve never been a tease. Except when you tease.
from: [email protected]
date: June 8, 2:44 PM
subject: This is not teasing.
I miss you like crazy.
from: [email protected]
date: June 8, 3:07 PM
subject: Fix for that
I have a pill you can take that cures that. It’s called come live with me.
from: [email protected]
date: June 8, 3:49 PM
subject: Question
How much do you adore me?
from: [email protected]
date: June 8, 4:02 PM
subject: Answer
So much I can’t measure it.
from: [email protected]
date: June 8, 4:11 PM
subject: And another
How much do you love me?
from: [email protected]
date: June 8, 4:18 PM
subject: Hit me with another
More than I know what to do with.
from: [email protected]
date: June 8, 4:20 PM
subject: One more
How happy would you be if I said yes to your offer?
from: [email protected]
date: June 8, 4:25 PM
subject: One word
Immeasurably.
Iron. He’d cloaked himself in iron. He’d resisted. He hadn’t asked for an answer. He hadn’t pressured her. He’d simply kept up the volley, letting her lead as she seemed to need at the moment. He held tight to his phone, keeping it on his lap as he worked through the latest set of papers for the Pinkertons from home.
He’d hoped to catch a movie with Davis, since his friend was back in town after working in London for the last few months. But Chris had called him that morning, telling him he was sending a bottle of vintage scotch over as a thank you for his new contract.
“The delivery guys said they’ll be there between four and five, so I guess you can just have the doorman sign for it if you’re out?’’
“I don’t have a doorman, but it’s not a problem. I’ve got things I can take care of at the house, so I’ll sign for it myself.”
“Thanks, man,” Chris had said. “It’s the least I can do. You rocked the hell out of my new deal.”
“If you’re pleased, I’m pleased.”
But it was four-thirty and the scotch hadn’t arrived yet. He was looking forward to it, but not as much as he was looking forward to another note from Julia. The clock was ticking, lurching towards midnight. If he were a betting man, he’d put money on Julia using up every second of her week of thinking, and giving him the verdict when the clock struck twelve. That would be fine by him. She was worth waiting for.
He scanned the page in front of him when the message light dinged on his phone.
from: [email protected]
date: June 8, 4:32 PM
subject: One question
Do you still love surprises?
Before he could reply, his phone buzzed with a text message.
Balcony.
He closed his eyes briefly, a spark racing through him with the possibility. Was she reminiscing about the things they’d done on the balcony or was there more to it? He stood up, walked to the door and slid it open. With his heart in his throat and hope winding its way through his bones, he crossed the distance to the railing, and looked down.
His heart stopped, and then started again, thumping hard against his chest with desire, happiness, and mad love.
She was the most beautiful sight in the world. But it wasn’t the stockings and the heels, the skirt or the little tank top. It wasn’t even her hair falling in waves along her shoulders. It was the two humongous suitcases, one on each side of her. She waved at him as his phone rang.
“My driver left me here on the sidewalk with all my things. Don’t suppose you know a big strong man who could help me carry them upstairs to my new home?”
He grinned like a crazy man. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Within seconds—okay, maybe a minute—he was downstairs, looking both ways, and sprinting across the street to her. He gathered her in his arms, and it was like coming home. Her body melted into his as she roped her arms around his neck, and they kissed, and they kissed, and they kissed.
Finally, they pulled apart, but neither one let go. He needed to hold her. To feel her. To know she was real. He ran his hands along her bare arms. The feel of her skin was some kind of magic. He bent his head to her neck, inhaling her scent, the delicious, intoxicating smell of the woman he craved in every way. He lifted a hand to her hair, threading his fingers around her gorgeous flames. The sound of her sweet happy sigh was a shot of pure joy to his heart. She was here. She’d said yes.
“I made sure my flight had Wi-Fi so I could surprise you. Did you think I was in San Francisco the whole day? The time on my laptop was set to Pacific until I landed.”
He nodded. “I did, and I take it there’s no vintage scotch arriving between four and five?”
“I’m the vintage scotch. I hope you like your surprise.”
“You taste better than any scotch, than anything I’ve ever had to eat or drink. So you’re here to stay?” he asked, needing to hear it from her.
She nodded. “I’m here to stay.”
“No more running.”