by Susan Wiggs
“Do we really care?” he asked.
“The grown-up answer would be to say yes. We should give this some time, see if it could really work,” she said.
“Fine, then you say yes.”
“Yes.” She frowned, feeling light-headed with wonder and awakening joy. Her fingers shook a little as she refastened the buttons of her uniform. Somehow, the situation seemed to demand a little dignity. “But I, um, forgot the question.”
“The question was ‘Will you marry me?”’
“And I just said yes?”
He nodded. “You’re totally committed.”
Something didn’t add up, but as she stared into his eyes, she felt herself teetering, wavering on the edge. Then she let herself plunge into something that felt so right. “I am,” she said.
He shut his eyes, and for a moment he looked totally vulnerable. Then he faced her and said, “Do you know, I never wanted anything as much as I wanted you? To be with you, live with you, to be Brian’s dad? I had no idea what it was like to want someone until I met you.”
Her heart full, she lifted her head to kiss him, and they were lost again, lost in each other and in the wonder of the step they were about to take.
A while—quite a long while—later, he propped himself up on one elbow and said, “You know we can’t begin our life together with a lie.”
Oh, God, she thought. Here it comes. Something about the girlfriend—
He laughed at her expression and dug in his jeans pocket. “I didn’t really trade in the necklace for the ring.” He held the necklace aloft, diamond and ruby facets catching the sunlight. He sat her up and clasped it around her neck, pausing now and then to kiss and nip the back of her neck.
“I couldn’t stand the idea of taking it back.” His lips traced the pulse at the side of her throat. “Because I kept remembering—this necklace was the only thing you had on the first time I made love to you.”
She shut her eyes. “I remember that, too.”
“Then I hope like hell you remember how sexy it was.”
She was so replete with happiness that she felt compelled to say, “I have a confession of my own to make. About that offer to take me to Paris?”
“Ah. The place you said you don’t need to see because you’re already fulfilled.”
“Maybe I was a bit hasty there. Saying I didn’t need to go. That was just a manner of speaking—to prove my point that I can be happy with my life even though I’ll never have Paris.”
“So what are you saying?”
“Just that…if you really insist on it, I’d be glad to visit Paris with you.”
“I hear it’s a great place for a honeymoon. But I don’t know…”
“What?”
“You might become too sophisticated for me, and there’d be no living with you.”
She turned, unbuttoning the front of her uniform and parting it to display the glittering necklace. “That’s a risk you’ll have to take, Dr. Carter.”
His eyelids closed halfway. “Okay, Paris it is. But promise me something.”
“Anything,” she said.
“Wear those red shoes for the wedding. And never, ever cut your hair.”
“I’ll do the red shoes thing, even though people will talk. The hair…we’ll see.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-4190-3
HUSBAND FOR HIRE
Copyright © 1999 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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