She couldn’t believe her luck, couldn’t fathom how her dreams had come true. But, at this moment, she was content to revel in the fantasy turned reality.
Between kisses, she asked, “You planned this?”
“Mmm,” he muttered before diving for her mouth again.
A moment later, she tried again, “I can’t believe you planned this!”
He raised his head and smiled. A slow, intimate, caressing smile. “You know what they say, desperate times call for desperate measures. Sybil was only too happy to help.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean you went to Sybil for help—”
He nodded, his smile widening. “She was quick to point out that I’d be eating crow.” He added, his voice tinged with sheepishness, “You’ll recall that I once said something to the effect that the day I got serious about you would be the day I’d call her myself with details about my personal life. Well, I can’t imagine getting more serious about you than I am now.”
“That’s—” she began, then stopped as a thought intruded. “Your flight!” She looked around. “What time is it? You’re going to miss it!”
He threw back his head and laughed.
Puzzled, she asked, “What’s so funny?”
He managed to look sheepish and pleased with himself at the same time. “Er…”
Her eyes widened. “There is no flight, is there?”
She tried to slug him playfully but he caught her up in a bear hug. He kept laughing while she squirmed.
“All right,” he admitted finally, “I convinced my secretary to say that I had a flight to catch. I was betting—no, hoping—you’d see the headline in Sybil’s column and want to get to the bottom of the gossip right away. Just in case, though—” his guilty look deepened “—I decided to give you an extra reason to think you needed to come racing over here.”
She looked at him. He’d gone to a fair amount of trouble. For her. She melted. “I suppose that explains why you were carrying an engagement ring in your pocket?”
“Yup.”
“You move fast,” she said laughingly. “Not that I’m complaining.”
His mouth quirked up on one side. “I like speed, remember?”
She just gazed at him, this wonderful, funny, sweet guy who’d taught her about trust, laughter and love. “I owe you an apology.”
He loosened his hold and cocked his head. “For what?”
“For not trusting you more.” She paused. “I thought you were just like Bentley Mathison because you have money and social status. I singled you out to be a favorite target of my column.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “If it weren’t for that column of yours, we would never have met.” He gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll always be grateful to Ms. Rumor-Has-It.”
“You’ve done a major about-face,” she teased.
“Well, I’ve learned a few lessons, too.”
Now it was her turn to look interested and surprised.
He cleared his throat. “You were right that I’ve been a little rudderless since the accident.” He shrugged. “I was torn up over Jack’s death. The way I chose to cope was by turning to models and actresses and partying.”
“And now you’ve turned to gossip columnists,” she said impishly.
He cupped the side of her face, running his thumb over her lips. “I’ve discovered that gossip columnists have their charm, and that they have a difficult job, just like most other people.”
“They’re charming even when they dredge up the past?” she asked, unable to resist.
“Yeah,” he said, holding her gaze. “Even then. Especially then.”
Her heart lifted.
“I was wearing Jack’s death like an old and familiar shirt. I thought I had come to terms with it to some extent because I’d been rendered blameless by the official investigation and I was doing what I could to help his family.” He paused for a few seconds. “I didn’t realize how much I was still waiting for an absolution—until your article.”
She nodded. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be angry.”
“I was when I first saw it, but then I actually took a look at what you’d written. Reading the article, I think I finally gave myself permission to forgive myself.”
“I wanted to make amends,” she said, “even though I thought I’d destroyed any chance of a relationship between us. And by the way, thanks to my story about Whittaker Enterprises, you’re now looking at the newest business reporter at the Sentinel.”
Noah laughed, then lifted her up and hugged her before setting her down again. “Fantastic!”
She knew she had a ridiculous grin on her face.
“So, who’s taking over as Ms. Rumor-Has-It?”
“With any luck, Jody Donaldson and not my sister. Samantha has this ridiculous idea that the column is the way to meet guys.”
“I like your sister. She’s spunky.”
“Well, don’t worry, she’s ready to welcome you into the family with open arms.”
“Mine already thinks you’re great for taking me down a peg or two,” he teased, then got serious. “Speaking of family, what do you intend to do about Bentley Mathison?”
“Nothing.” She thought a minute to figure out how to express how she felt. “He obviously decided long ago not to have anything to do with my life, and, now that I’ve met him, I don’t think I want to have anything to do with him either. And I’ve decided to stop beating up on myself for being genetically related to him. Genes are not destiny.”
“Good,” he said, appearing satisfied. “There’s no use getting upset about things that you can’t change, but realize there’s a lot that you can.”
“I love you,” she said. He knew her so well. This was what she’d yearned for…dreamed of. Noah understood her, so well, in fact, that she saw herself better.
A glint entered his eyes. “Want to demonstrate?”
Her eyes widened. “Here?”
He looked around the room. “Hmm,” he said, “maybe you’re right. We’ve only got the couch and the desk. It’d be better if we go to the firm’s bedroom.”
“The firm’s bedroom?” she echoed, sure that whatever he was suggesting was scandalous.
His eyes crinkled. “Unofficially and euphemistically known around here as the private conference room.” He winked. “It’s a room for use by employees who are pulling a late night and don’t have time to go home and catch some shuteye. But—” he leaned forward confidingly “—and I guess it’s all right to share this with you since you’re no longer Ms. Rumor-Has-It—it’s been rumored to have been used for clandestine rendezvous.”