“You really outdid yourself, Hart,” she said, trying not to show how touched she was that he’d gone to all this trouble.
“And you look like a princess,” he said, handing her a white rose she hadn’t even noticed he was carrying.
She looked down at it to hide her sudden blush. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”
She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Andreas had gone back inside the lobby. Then she turned back to Ian, who was smiling at her.
“So . . . what’s the deal with all this?” she asked cautiously. “It’s wonderful, but a little over the top, don’t you think?”
“I needed the right setting,” he told her, leaning back against the gleaming white car and sliding his hands into the pockets of his dark gray suit.
“The right setting for what?”
“For a story I’d like to tell you.”
A story?
“Well . . .” She hesitated. “I guess we have some time before we have to be at the restaurant. Is it a long story?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Okay, then.”
He took a deep breath, and then he began.
“Once upon a time, a lonely man fell in love with a beautiful woman. But he was proud and blind and afraid, and he didn’t realize his true feelings.”
Her heart knocked against her rib cage. She squeezed the rose stem in her hand, belatedly grateful that its thorns had been removed.
“But one day the man was faced with the loss of something precious. And he knew in that moment that what really mattered to him were the people he loved: his nephew, and his friends, and the woman who’d taught him that magic is real—and that love is real, too.” He paused. “And that cats purr between twenty and a hundred and forty hertz.”
She was caught between tears and laughter.
“Damn you, Ian Hart,” she muttered, grabbing a tissue from her purse and swiping at her eyes.
“What is it?”
“I never wear makeup. I put some on tonight, and now you’ve made me cry.”
She stuffed the tissue back in her purse. Ian took it from her, along with the rose, and set them on the hood of the car.
Then he reached for her hands. “Kate Meredith, I love you. I have some long-term plans I don’t think you’re ready to hear yet, so for now, I’ll just ask you this: Will you be my girlfriend?”
She wanted to say yes.
“I . . .” Her mouth was dry. She tried again. “I . . .”
She shook her head. “Oh, Ian. I know I called you a coward, but . . . maybe I’m the real coward. My heroines are brave, but I’m not. I was with Chris because it was easy. And even though it didn’t work out with him, I don’t know if I can handle . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“Me?”
“Well, yes.”
He squeezed her hands. “The thing about being a writer is that you get to be in control. The characters you create have to act exactly the way you want them to. Being with me won’t be like that . . . and it won’t be easy. I won’t always do the things you want me to, or the things you wish I would. But I promise to love you with everything I’ve got.” He looked into her eyes. “And you’re not a coward. You feel scared right now, but that doesn’t make you a coward. You’re every bit as brave as any of your heroines. You just need to let your own life be your greatest story.”
Let your own life be your greatest story.
Her skin prickled. All her life, Kate had poured every color of the rainbow into her writing—but she’d been content for her own life to be in black and white. Now, for the first time, a new possibility opened in front of her.
Being with Ian would challenge her on every level. It would take courage, love, and imagination.
Everything she valued most.
“For a guy who claims he’s not creative, you sure have a way with words sometimes.”
He lifted her hand and kissed it. “So what do you say, Kate? Will you come with me on this adventure?”
And then, all at once, her excitement was bigger than her fear.
“Yes,” she said, and he pulled her into his arms.
His mouth slanted over hers, and she felt his kiss in her bones. When they finally came up for air, she told him, “Now you’ve messed up my lipstick, too.”
He grinned at her and opened the passenger door of the Rolls. “I make no apologies for that. My lady, your carriage awaits.”
She got into the car, and Ian handed her the rose and her purse with a courtly bow before coming around to the driver’s side.
“You know, this is harder for me than it is for you,” he said as he settled in next to her. “I’ve had to adjust all my ideas about the world.”
“What do you mean?”
“I never knew life could be like a fairy tale.”
Her heart threatened to overflow. “I have to adjust my ideas, too,” she said.
“How?”
“I never knew life could be better than a fairy tale.”
She could have sworn his eyes were brighter than usual.
“Are you crying, Hart? That’s so sentimental.”
“I’m not crying,” he said. “The sun’s in my eyes.”
She kissed him on the cheek. “Hey, Ian?”
“Yes?”
“I love you, too.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A huge thank-you to the entire team at Montlake, especially the wonderful Maria Gomez. I’m also indebted to Charlotte Herscher, editor extraordinaire, who helped make this book better.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2014 Target Portrait Studio
Abigail Strom started writing stories at the age of seven and has never been able to stop. On her way to becoming a full-time writer, she earned a BA in English from Cornell University, as well as an MFA in dance from the University of Hawaii, and held a wide variety of jobs from dance teacher and choreographer to human resource manager. Now she works in her pajamas and lives in New England with her family, who are incredibly supportive of the hours she spends hunched over her computer.
You can visit her website at www.abigailstrom.com or e-mail her at [email protected]. She would love to hear from you!
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