by Katee Robert
“You’re here to hit on the doctors,” she shot back, but couldn’t keep the grin off her face.
“The upside of you being here is that we can do both,” Ginger said.
Just then a humongous arrangement of white flowers waddled into the room.
“Holy shit, Vern. What did you do, mug a flower cart on your way here?”
Vern lumbered over to the flower-laden cabinet by the window and dumped his load. “Least we could do, kid. Thanks to you, we’ve had calls for reservations tonight. Reservations! We’re a strip club, people. We don’t take no stinking reservations.”
“What makes you think that’s because of me?”
“Last night’s escapade has been all over the news. Now every agent in Hollywood wants to come down to Deuces and discover the next Stacy Roberts.”
Stacy laughed. “That’s…great, I guess.” Her voice trailed off because a lump suddenly wanted to form in her throat. She took a deep breath, looked at her friends, and said quietly, “You guys are a sight for sore eyes.”
“Uh-oh. She’s delirious,” Ginger quipped, and elbowed Ari. “We better find that cute doctor we met on the way in and get his sexy ass down here right away.”
The brunette’s lips stretched into a slow, wicked smile. “If I find him, I don’t bring him here for a while.”
“Yeah, yeah, I see what kind of priority I am for you girls.” She planted her hands on the mattress and tried to push herself into a sitting position. It turned out to be a lot harder than she expected. “Before you go seduce Dr. Feelgood, can one of you help me sit up?”
“That sounds like a job for me,” a deep voice replied. Stacy looked up to find Trevor coming through the door, carrying an enormous bouquet of cheerful yellow sunflowers. Kylie followed, holding three huge, happy-face Mylar balloons that read “Get,” “Well,” and “Soon.”
Stacy watched as everyone exchanged greetings and hugs. Then Kylie took the bouquet from Trevor and walked to the window to add their arrangement to the bounty already taking up most of the surface of the cabinet. Ginger, Ari, and Lee Ann followed to help rearrange all the flowers.
“You’re looking a little better than last time I saw you.” Trevor leaned down to kiss her cheek. Then he slid one arm around her back, hooked the other under her knees, and lifted her higher in the bed.
“Thanks.” She hit the button to raise the bed. “Of course, last time you saw me I probably looked like I was about to fall off a light rig and crack my skull like an egg.”
“Yeah.” He smiled and pinched her chin. “I could go awhile without seeing that again, so in addition to putting your Worst Nightmare in custody where she belongs, I’m putting a five-foot vertical limit on you.”
She settled back and grinned at Kylie. “Man, he’s a tough one. Bossy.”
Kylie snuggled against his side and smiled up at him. “He has his softer side too.”
“You’re not supposed to tell anybody about that,” Trevor complained, and then tipped his bride-to-be’s chin up and kissed her with a thoroughness that had every woman in the room sighing.
“All right, break it up, you two,” Ginger joked, and tossed a handful of rose petals up in the air so they rained down on the lovebirds. “Save something for the wedding.”
“Can I join the party?”
Stacy’s heart stuttered at the question. She swung her eyes toward the door. There stood Ian, leaning against the doorframe, holding a dozen red roses and looking unfairly gorgeous in wash-faded jeans and the emerald-green cashmere crewneck she’d gotten him for Christmas last year because it was the exact same shade as his eyes.
“Whoops, would you look at the time!” Ginger pointed to her nonexistent wristwatch. “We gotta go. See you tomorrow, Snowflake. C’mon, Vern.”
“What? I just got here!”
Ginger elbowed him, hard, and glanced pointedly at the door.
“All right. All right. I’m going.”
The girls headed out in a flurry of hugs, good-byes, and waves.
“We better go, too,” Kylie said. “We’ve got that thing.” She tugged Trevor’s arm.
“Right. The thing. Bye, Stace. Remember, five-foot vertical limit.” He clapped a hand on Ian’s shoulder as they passed.
Ian straightened and sent Stacy a crooked grin. “Do I know how to clear a room or what?”
She laughed, and then, to her utter horror, burst into tears.
He dropped the roses and had her carefully gathered in his arms before they hit the floor.
“It’s okay. Shh. C’mon, Stacy, don’t cry.” The low words vibrated from his chest to her cheek. His hand rubbed slow, comforting circles over her back. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m ruining your s-s-sweater, t-that’s what. And I…I l-love you, goddammit.” Well, shit. That hadn’t come out right.
The hand on her back stilled for a moment. His heartbeat sped up a couple notches, but all he said was, “I know.” The response was so typically Ian—calm, cocky, completely in control—she almost laughed. But then he followed it with, “Glad you finally worked up the courage to say the words,” and she wanted to cry all over again, this time out of shame for how she’d handled things.
Instead she lifted her head, wiped her face, and looked at him, drinking in those patient, observant eyes, the thick fringe of eyelashes God sometimes wasted on a man, and the firm, expressive lips. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and she realized he wasn’t as calm and cool as he let on. She owed him an explanation and an apology, and hoped that for once in her life she could find the right words, because even if he’d figured out for himself a long time ago that she loved him, she’d let him think she did so against her will, or at least her better judgment. And, honestly, that’s exactly how she’d felt. He needed to know how much she regretted her lack of faith in them.
“I’m sorry, Ian. I should have told you a long time ago. I didn’t because I thought—I don’t know—I was scared.”
“I know. I get that. I always knew you were holding back—”
She snorted. “You’ve had my number, right from the start.”
“I understand you, Stace, that’s all. And because I do, I knew certain things would be bigger issues than others, like the whole ‘I love you’ thing. I thought I could afford to be patient. What I don’t understand…what I didn’t see coming…was you walking away.” His fingers tightened the tiniest degree on her shoulders, and the small gesture gave her a world of insight into the depth of his frustration.
“I was afraid you’d change your mind,” she confessed. “When you asked me to move in, I thought you were keeping your options open. I mean, marriage is a big step…a big public commitment. A divorce takes time. But living together?” She shrugged. “It’s not so hard to just pack your stuff and leave if things don’t work out. Not that I blame you,” she quickly added when he would have interrupted. “The show took off practically overnight, and suddenly, I realized it was only a matter of time before bits and pieces about my past came to light. Little details like me working at Deuces. These were my choices, and I always considered them part of what made me…well…me—uninhibited, a little bit wild, and shocking. But I saw how my past had the potential to embarrass or alienate people I cared about, like you, and your family.”
“I love you, Stacy. I love that you’re uninhibited, and, yeah, a little bit wild. As for shocking, well,” he shrugged, “I think you know by now I’m kind of hard to shock. Same goes for my family.”
Her heart soared at his words, but she shook her head. Get all the fear out. Drain it like venom. “Your parents didn’t sign up for notoriety. How are they going to feel when someone posts a video of me stripping on YouTube, and some tabloid reporter shoves a recorder in their faces and asks them if I pole dance at the family barbecues?”
“Honey, if you want to pole dance at the next barbecue, my parents will install a pole. And, as much as I hate to say it”—he grimaced—“my mom would probably be the first in line for a les
son. She keeps talking about what a great workout it’s supposed to be. Obviously, I can’t be there for that, or I’ll have to tear my eyes out, but—”
She thwacked the solid wall of muscle he called a chest. “Ian, I’m not joking.”
“Neither am I. Look, they know. They know how we met, where you’re from, how you got your start. Everything. They also know I love you, and you love me. That’s really all they care about.”
“I hope you’re right because they’re probably stuck with me.”
The hand at her back stilled again. “You figure?”
Now her heartbeat kicked up a notch. “If you still want to try…if you’ll still have me…I’d love to move in with you.”
He frowned and shook his head. Her heart did a belly flop straight into her stomach. “I’m sorry, but after everything we’ve been through, the move-in offer is no longer on the table.”
Tears threatened again, but she blinked them back. Okay, understandable. You’ll just have to change his mind. She firmed her chin. “I’m ready for the next step. How can I prove it to you?”
He gave her a funny look and then cocked an eyebrow. “You really think you’re ready for the next step?”
“Yes. Absolutely,” she replied without hesitation. “Bring it on.”
“Okay, then.” He drew away from her and eased off the bed until he knelt beside it, facing her. “Remember, you asked for this.”
“Ian, what are you…” Her words died away when he pulled a small square box out of his pocket and held it out to her.
“Stacy Roberts, former Two Trout troublemaker, ex-stripper, and the woman I love, will you marry me?” He opened the box to reveal a gorgeous, radiant blue sapphire surrounded by diamonds.
The gasp escaped before she could help herself.
He shrugged, but the quirk of his lips told her he appreciated rendering her speechless. “I wanted something as unique as the woman who’ll wear it. The color reminded me of your eyes.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful. And I’m waiting for an answer,” he prompted.
She shifted her attention to him and watched the slow, sexy grin she’d been dreaming of for six lonely weeks spread over his face. “This is the next step?”
“Yep.”
“You’re sure?”
His unwavering gaze locked on hers, making her head spin a little. “I am dead positive.”
“Then, my answer is yes.”
He slipped the ring on her finger, climbed onto the bed, and swept her into a kiss. By the time he was done, her head spun more than a little, and there was a strange clapping sound assaulting her ears. “Ignore them,” he whispered, cupped her jaw, and lowered his head for another kiss.
Confused, she looked beyond him, toward the door. Vern, Ginger, Ari, Lee Ann, Kylie, and Trevor gathered just beyond the threshold, clapping.
“About time, Snowflake,” Ginger called.
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” Ian called, never taking his eyes off her. His smile held wicked intent.
The door whooshed closed.
“I’m injured,” she warned as he moved in.
“I’m careful.” He traced the front opening of her hospital gown, barely grazing her flesh.
“I guess you are,” she managed, as his fingers parted the gown.
“And creative.” As proof he tapped the bed-adjust button and eased her into a more reclined position.
She raised a brow at him. “A nurse could walk in here at any moment to check on me.”
He leaned in and brushed his mouth over hers. “Then she’ll get an eyeful of you being kissed by the man who loves you.”
The enormity of everything she’d almost lost dropped on her like a falling sky. She wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him closer. He let her, but lingered on her lips, kissing her tenderly when she would have gone for the heat and the rush. He tipped her head back and kissed her again. And again, with a gentleness that brought tears to her eyes even as her body trembled. If she didn’t watch it, she’d start to feel…cherished.
“Missed you, Stace,” he murmured when they broke for air. “So damn much. Promise me—” She moaned and tried to draw him in. He evaded. “Promise you’ll never walk away from us again.”
“I promise—” Two words were all she managed, because he sent his lips trailing down her throat, her chest, stopping to bestow one slow, deliberate kiss directly over her heart. The sweetness of the gesture had her blinking back tears. Then his mouth was on the move again, placing soft kisses along the edge of the shockingly white bandage affixed to her side. When he finished, he looked up at her, and she saw all the raw fear and pain of the last twenty-four hours reflected in his unguarded expression.
“Ian—”
He shook his head and straightened her gown. “I could have lost you last night. When I saw you dangling from the light rig, I was so fucking scared. You can’t possibly imagine.”
Judging by the look on his face, she couldn’t. “I’m fine,” she whispered, and sank her fingers into his hair, “thanks to you.” To lighten the mood, she fluttered her lashes and sighed. “You’re my Halloween hero.”
His eyes didn’t quite lose their haunted look, but he flashed the cocky smile that had hooked her right from the start.
She gave his hair a quick tug. “Come here. I have to kiss that grin off your face.”
He hit the remote control for the bed and raised her up until their lips were tantalizingly close. “Only if you say the magic words.”
“Magic words?” She tried to lean in and close the distance, but he tapped the bed control and sent her sinking backward.
“Ian!”
“Magic words,” he prompted, and stopped the bed.
She made a grab for the remote, but he pulled it out of her reach.
“You can do it. Just repeat after me. I.”
“You really like that remote control, don’t you?”
“It’s a guy thing. I,” he said again, his clear green eyes blazing with triumph.
She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, “I.”
He hit the button and raised her a third of the way. “Love.”
“Love.”
The bed whirred again and she sat straighter.
“You,” he said quietly.
“I love you. Ian, I love you.” A dam broke inside her and she reached for him as the words poured out. He wrapped his arm around her and brought her the rest of the way home. And then she was there, snug against him, kissing his mouth, his chin, his jaw, anywhere she could reach while saying “I love you” over and over again.
“Every day,” he said between kisses. “I need to hear you say it every damn day for the rest of our lives. Think you can handle me?”
She eased back, put her hands on his cheeks, and stared into his eyes. “I can handle you, Ian. It’s being without you that I can’t handle.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “Good, because you’re never going to get rid of me again.”
Epilogue
“You sure you’re ready to do this?”
Stacy met Kylie’s eyes in the mirror. “Hell yes. We’ve rehearsed and everything. Aren’t you?”
“Me? Yes. I can’t wait. But I know this whole thing was kind of my idea.” She bit her lip and gave Stacy the big, blue-eyed Bambi stare. “Now I’m worried I’ve rushed you. Maybe you need more time.”
“Nope.” For emphasis, she shook her head. “I’m good. Completely healed.”
“Physically, yes,” Kylie quickly agreed. “And you’ve never looked more beautiful.” Stacy watched in the mirror as Kylie smoothed nervous fingers along the short, silky skirt of Stacy’s dress. “But are you mentally prepared?”
Was she? She frowned. “I think I am. I mean, how hard can it be? One little strut down the line. All eyes on us. Give ’em a show when we get to the end, then we’re outta here. Easy.”
“Okaaaay. Just so you know, I think t
he plans leaked to the press. Doing this outdoors was probably a mistake. I can’t promise some paparazzi won’t get a shot. This could be splattered all over the tabloids come tomorrow.”
Now she did feel some hesitation, only because that kind of publicity might not be what Kylie wanted. “I’m sorry. If you want to pull out, I completely understand.”
“No, no. I want to go for it. I don’t care who sees.”
What a sister. “If you’re good to go, I’m good to go.”
Kylie smiled, and happiness radiated off her in waves. “All right. I’ll stop stressing.”
“About time. You also look amazing, by the way. Sweet, classy, and hot as hell, all at the same time.” It was true.
Kylie blushed. “Thanks.”
A rap sounded on the opposite side of the door, and then Vern came into the small room. “You”—he pointed at Kylie—“and you.” He swung the finger toward Stacy. “Let’s go. The other girls got the crowd warmed up. It’s showtime.”
Stacy glanced at Kylie and lifted a brow. “Ready?”
Kylie nodded.
Vern offered them each an arm. They linked up and walked through the door, down a short, marble-floored hall and along a vine-covered pergola. She heard the music now and tried to pace herself accordingly. They reached the lawn. Sunlight streamed over a runner of white carpet. The pristine path bisected the assembly of guests standing in front of their white-slipcovered folding chairs, and ended at a rose-covered lattice arbor where several people waited. Beyond the arbor stretched a breathtaking view of the gleaming Pacific, but gorgeous as the ocean view was from the bluff-top perch of the Malibu estate they’d rented for this particular event, Stacy found her attention drawn to the people gathered in front of the arbor.
Ginger, Ari, and Lee Ann stood on the left, uncharacteristically elegant in shimmering silver sheaths. Opposite them stood the younger McCade brothers, two dark-haired, dangerously hot specimens molded from the same formidable clay as Trevor—Michael, the rough, tough, US Marine, and Logan, the MBA, which Stacy thought in his case ought to stand for Major Bad-Ass.