Nice. She clearly couldn’t get engaged spontaneously without her parents assuming she was knocked up. She thrust the phone at Ty as he approached her. “Look at this. It’s my mother’s reaction to our news, which they saw on TV.”
He barely glanced at it. “I can’t see it, there’s a sun glare. What’s it say?”
“My dad wants to know if I’m pregnant.”
Ty laughed. “Tell them not yet, anyway.”
“Do you want children?” she asked him anxiously.
The smile fell off his face. “Yes. Do you?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Whew.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “You scared me there for a minute.”
She was suddenly scaring herself. There were a lot of things she and Ty hadn’t discussed. Important things. Deal-breaker things.
“We have time to grab a quick bite to eat before the flight home. Damn, I wish we weren’t leaving tonight. Stuffed into a commercial flight with you is not my idea of how we should be celebrating.”
“Me either.” Imogen really wanted to cozy up in bed with him and talk, make love, talk, make love. That would assuage the niggling little fears that were cropping up. “I do have to be back, though. Maybe we can go out to dinner tomorrow night?”
“A fancy dinner,” he promised. “And I’ve got some ring shopping to do.”
The idea of Ty picking out an engagement ring blindly brought another wave of panic. “Maybe we should do that together.”
He kissed her softly. “Sure. Damn, my phone is ringing.” Retrieving it from his pocket, he answered it without even looking at the screen.
After a minute Imogen surmised it was Elec. She took advantage of his conversation to answer the text to her mother.
No, I am not pregnant.
Then some little devil prompted her to add Ty’s suggestion.
Yet.
She wasn’t usually one to tease like that, but for some reason it felt satisfying, maybe because the inquiry as to a pregnancy had smacked to Imogen of her parents’ true opinion—she had to get married. Otherwise it didn’t make sense.
Ty hung up the phone and gave her a look of apology. “You don’t mind if we take the kids back to Charlotte, do you? Elec says Tammy has food poisoning and is throwing up nonstop. She’s miserable and can’t fly home tonight. He wants to stay with her, obviously, but the kids need to get back and go to school tomorrow. So I said they could keep their seats on the flight back tonight, that we would take them with us and drop them off at their grandparents’ for the night.”
“Sure, of course. Geez, poor Tamara. Food poisoning is awful. I’m sure it will be easier for her when the kids aren’t running around the coach either. Maybe she’ll get some sleep.”
“This is probably good,” Ty said. “It will prevent me from trying to molest you on the plane.”
Imogen laughed. “You were going to molest me in public?”
“Probably.” Ty slipped his hand into hers. “And this will stop me from doing something totally inappropriate. Though if you use an airplane blanket, I can’t be responsible for what my hand might do underneath it.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IT turned out there was no ability to do anything inappropriate on the plane. Hunter insisted on sitting next to Imogen, which left Ty and Pete across the aisle. The flight had been delayed, and they missed their connection in Atlanta. By the time they got back to Charlotte, deposited the kids at their grandparents’ house, and were on their way to Imogen’s apartment, it was one in the morning and Ty was exhausted. It had been an amazing day, but a long one nonetheless.
Imogen looked a little droopy herself, but as Ty walked her to the door, her suitcase in his hand, he couldn’t help asking, “Can I spend the night?”
When he saw her hesitate, desire warring with fatigue in her eyes, he added, “No sex, I think we’re both too dead for that. But I just want to sleep beside you tonight. I want to hold you.”
It wasn’t exactly tough guy, but it was the damn honest truth, and it seemed to work for her because her expression softened. “I’d love that.”
God, he was gone. He was begging to cuddle. “Let me grab my overnight bag.” With a burst of energy he didn’t know he had left, he got his bag from the trunk and was back beside her.
Imogen let them into her apartment and flipped on a lamp in her living room. “Do you mind if we go straight to bed?”
“No, that’s exactly what I had in mind. You go ahead and use the bathroom first.”
“We can be in there together,” she said. “I just need to brush my teeth and wash my face.”
Now that held appeal. If they were going to be getting married, they should figure out how to share a bathroom. “Okay. I just want to do the same thing. I’ll shower in the morning.”
When they got to her bedroom, Ty kicked off his shoes and lined them up next to her dresser. He stripped down to his boxers and T-shirt, folded his clothes, and pulled out his shaving kit. As he headed to her bathroom, he saw Imogen in her bra and panties. Tempting, very tempting, but he restrained himself.
The sight of her bathroom drew him up short. He had never been in there, and while he had known Imogen was kind of a clutter bug, he had never imagined one woman could have that much shit in one tiny bathroom. There were lotions and electronics with cords and makeup scattered all over. The floor was covered in towels, panties, bras, tissues, and a couple of disposable razors that looked like they’d taken a dive off the side of the tub and been forgotten. Unable to find a surface to rest his bag, he fished out his toothbrush, then tucked it between his legs.
“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess in here,” she said as she bustled in behind him wearing a tight T-shirt that showed off her ni**les and a giant pair of flannel pajama pants.
That was an understatement, but he just shrugged and spoke around a mouthful of toothpaste. “No big deal.”
He spit, then left the bathroom to her. Bed was very appealing, even if Imogen’s was a bit heavy on lace and pink. Peeling off his shirt and pulling the covers back, he sank down into bed and sighed. He was officially tired. Her face shiny from whatever girl concoction she had used on it, she slid into bed next to him. Ty reached for her, and she moved in alongside him, resting her head on his chest.
Exhausted, and not really sure what he was supposed to say to the woman he had asked to marry him, Ty was content to just lie there. Imogen wasn’t.