talked.'
He let out a jerky sigh, and rubbed his face. 'What did you say?'
Tears were running down her face. She dug a Kleenex out of her pocket and mopped them up. 'I told you how I felt about you. How much I wanted you to wake up. How badly I hoped that someday we could be together. That was the last time I came.'
His head jerked around. 'Why?' he demanded.
'Because that night, you woke up,' she said.
He looked baffled. 'Why? Why stop, after all that? Why didn't you come to see me anymore?'
She blew her nose. 'Oh, please. There you were, barely conscious, in terrible pain, just finding out that your partner had been murdered. I thought some silly, crushed-out girl demanding your attention was the last thing you needed. I was embarrassed. I didn't want to bother you.'
He stood up, so suddenly his chair shot back and crashed against the wall behind him. 'Bother me? Jesus, Erin. Is that why you didn't call this week? You were embarrassed? You didn't want to
'Connor, I—'.
'Why the hell do you think I woke up?' he asked furiously. 'Did it ever occur to you to ask yourself that question?'
She pressed her hands over her mouth and shook her head.
He threw his hands up. His face was tight with pain. 'I would've come back from the dead if I heard you say you wanted me.'
He stalked out of the kitchen.
She lunged for him and grabbed his arm. 'Connor?'
He spun around. It was impossible to tell who grabbed who. They fell toward each other, giving in to the immense, inevitable force of gravity. They came together in a wild, desperate, clinging kiss.
Somehow they ended up in a trembling knot on his living room carpet. She scrambled on top of him and twined herself around his body, shoving his T-shirt up. She was starving for the sumptuous details of his beautiful body, every dip and curve, every bulge of hard muscle, every sensitive hollow, every silky tuft of hair. He was real, he wanted her, and she craved every salty, earthy, delicious inch of him.
He grabbed her wrist. 'Wait. Slow down.'
'No?' She rubbed the glow of heat between her thighs against him. 'No?'
'No more playing around,' he said flatly. 'I want it all. I'm not putting out again until my ring is on your finger. So don't even start with that sex goddess stuff.' His bright eyes challenged her to object.
A smile started, deep inside her, in the secret place where blushes and tears were born. A joy so deep and explosive, her body shone with it, expanding into infinite space. 'You're serious?'
'No ring, no sex,' he said sternly.
'You are kidding, right? You couldn't deny me. I won't allow it. I'll use all my powers to seduce you. It's a matter of pride.'
He propped himself up onto his elbows. 'Forget it. I'm no fool. I know how this works. Why buy the cow if you get the milk for free?'
She laughed, but her eyes were overflowing. 'That's so crass.'
Connor pushed himself up, dug into a tattered pocket on his cargo pants. He handed her a small black velvet box, and looked away quickly. 'I've been carrying this around with me for more than a week,' he said. 'If you don't like it, we can look for something else.'
She jammed her soggy tissue against her nose and flipped it open.
It was an antique ring. A faceted oval aquamarine, rich with shifting shades of pale, milky blue and green, was suspended within a filigreed circle of platinum. It was ethereal, unique. Exquisite.
The colors in the stone swam and blended in her eyes, into a swirl of green, blue and white light. Her throat was too tight to speak.
'I didn't figure you for the traditional diamond type,' he said warily. 'This, well… it fit my fantasy of something you might like.'
'Your fantasy fits me fine,' she whispered. 'It's so beautiful.'
He took the box from her and pulled the ring out. He looked into her eyes. 'Will you wear it?'
She held out her left hand without hesitation. 'Yes.'
He slipped it onto her finger. He pressed her hand against his mouth, and held it against his cheek. 'Oh, God,' he said shakily. 'That was really scary. And I got through it. Look at me. I'm still alive.'
The ring glowed on her hand, as if light were shining behind it. 'It fits perfectly,' she said softly. 'We don't even have to size it.'
'I already sized it. I tried on one of your rings. It came to right here, on my smallest finger. I just told that to the jeweler.'
She was staggered. 'You were already convinced? Back then?'
'Hell, yes. God favors those who are prepared. That's what my crazy daddy used to say, as he taught us how to build a bomb or perform an emergency tracheotomy.'
She laughed, and wrapped her arms around his neck. 'I love you, Connor. I'm sorry for every time I wasn't brave enough to tell you so.'
He kissed her tears away. 'Do you trust me, Erin?'
The longing in his voice made her heart ache. She pressed her forehead to his. 'With my life, with my heart. With everything. Forever.'
A shudder went through his body, as if he were shaking off the shadow of some old lingering fear. 'Will you come upstairs with me?'
'I would go anywhere with you,' she said.
They scrambled to their feet, and he took her hand. She followed him up the stairs and into a big, sparsely furnished bedroom. Golden afternoon sun slanted through bamboo shades. Simple white walls, an antique dresser, a king-sized bed with a rough, textured coverlet of silvery charcoal fabric. There was a long handmade chest beneath the window. It was plain, almost medieval in its simplicity.
He watched her look around his room. Each step they went through felt like a holy ceremony. A series of doorways that led them ever deeper into the most secret and tender parts of each other.
'I love your room,' she said gently. 'It suits you.'
'I've dreamed of luring you in here for so long,' he said. 'I even changed the sheets this morning. For luck.'
Erin tugged her T-shirt over her head, unhooked her bra, kicked off her sneakers. 'God favors those who are prepared?'
'Yeah.' His cheeks flushed as he stared at her. He laughed at himself and rubbed his hand over his face. 'Jesus. How do you do this to me?' he said, in a wondering voice. 'I feel like I'm thirteen, again.'
She shimmied out of her jeans and panties, and shoved his chest. He sat down on the bed as if his knees were too weak to hold him.
'So?' she teased. 'I'm wearing your ring, Connor. Nothing else. I held up my side of the deal. What are you going to do with me now?'
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his hot face against her belly. 'Everything,' he said. 'Everything you want. Anything you can dream of. For the rest of our lives.'
She buried her nose in his fragrant hair. His lips moved against her skin, his hands moved over her body. He knew her so well, all the ways to make her quiver and go soft and wet and desperate for him. He slid his clever fingers between her legs, stroking her with loving skill.
She swayed, her knees buckling, and grabbed his shirt.
'Enough teasing.' She yanked it up over his head. 'It's been ten days, and I want you. So get ready to put out, Connor McCloud.'
She shoved him down onto the bed and attacked his belt. He laughed up at her in pure delight. 'But we just got engaged,' he protested. 'I thought that a tender, romantic vibe would be more—'
'Think again.' She yanked the cargo pants off and stared down at his sleek, powerful body with hungry eyes. 'You can be tender and romantic afterwards. When I'm tired.'
