by Andrea Blake
She blinked at him, tongue-tied, hardly daring to believe he had really said it. And then, before she could recover herself, she was in his arms, and he was kissing her in a way that dissolved all her doubts much more surely than words.
“Oh, Neal ...” she murmured shakily when, several minutes later, he relaxed his hold and looked down at her, smiling a little.
“Can I take it my offer is accepted?” His tone was teasing, but there was a light in his eyes which she had never seen before.
For answer, she slid her arms round his neck. “You know it is. But I still don’t understand. Last night you—”
His lips against her temple, he said huskily, “Last night I was a little off my head. I’m sorry if I hurt you, my darling.”
“I hurt you too,” she whispered contritely. “But I’ve been so afraid of making a fool of myself. It seemed impossible that you could ever be serious about me.”
“Serious ... oh, God!” He gave a stifled laugh, and pressed her against him. “Do you remember the night you came to my room and promised to help me get this place on its feet? I’ve been serious about you since then. The devil of it was that I knew I ought to keep it under control. Lord knows what your mother is going to say.”
Jennifer looked up at him in surprise. “What do you mean? She’s very fond of you.”
“That isn’t to say she’ll approve of me as a son-in-law, my love,” he said wryly. “Ten years is a big gap, Jenny. Do you really want to tie yourself down so soon, when you’ve had so little freedom?”
“I don’t want to be free. I love you,” she told him simply.
He kissed her again, and she clung to him, delighting in the feel of his crisp dark hair against her fingertips, the strength of his arms enclosing her.
Now and always, all she would ever want was to belong to Neal.