the message she wanted to convey. Now she was going to see him, face-to-face, and she was nervous.
The nerves disappeared when Haben came into view. Someone had decorated the front porch with pumpkins and Indian corn, and a cutout of a ghost had been taped to the front door for Halloween. This is the real Haben, she thought. It wasn’t staid and stuffy, and she’d be foolish to try to force her preconceived ideas of stately elegance on the big old house. It was daily disasters and fun on holidays, and it probably really did have a ghost who broke toilets. Ivan was right when he said it was a house that needed children and dogs and an orange cat. She glanced down at the small ball of orange fluff sleeping on the seat next to her. It was a step in the right direction. Maybe next month she’d get a dog. The kids might be harder to come by.
She pulled into the driveway, slung her purse over her shoulder, and cuddled the kitten in the crook of her arm. She wasn’t surprised to find the front door unlocked.
It all felt very right. As if the house were waiting for her. And she knew Ivan would be waiting for her, too, because Ivan loved her. It was a love she would be able to count on for the rest of her life. A love she would return.
The foyer floor had been freshly polished, pots of mums decorated tables and cozied up corners. The clocks ticked in cadence as if they were the heartbeat of the house. A sliver of golden light shone under the closed kitchen door. Stephanie pushed the door open and found Ivan standing at the counter, chopping vegetables. He wore khakis, a bulky sweater, and loafers. His hair had been cut and his beard shaved off, but he was still heart- stoppingly handsome and frighteningly virile. He seemed as at home in the kitchen as he’d been at the helm of the Savage.
“Making supper?” Stephanie asked.
He turned at the sound of her voice, the surprise apparent on his face. He recovered quickly and smiled at her, and the smile said it all. Welcome home, I missed you, I love you. It took her breath away, and she wondered how anyone could say so much with a simple smile.
“I’m making an omelet. Are you hungry?”
“Yeah.” She smiled back at him. “I’m starved.”
He took the kitten from her and held it up for inspection. “Is this a new boarder?”
Stephanie nodded. “It’s a wing chair cat.”
“What’s its name?”
“Whiskers.”
“Are you hungry, Whiskers?” he asked the cat, taking a bowl from the cupboard. He filled the bowl with milk and set the bowl and the cat on the floor. Then he gathered Stephanie into his arms and kissed her. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
“Yeah?”
She laughed softly because he was so obviously pleased. “Why isn’t Lucy making supper?”
“Lucy and Melody haven’t moved back. They weren’t sure they were welcome.”
“Hmmm. I see that didn’t stop you.”
“My rent is paid through May.”
Stephanie wrinkled her nose. “Sorry I left in such a huff, but it was a little embarrassing to discover a whole town had conspired to get me married. I can hardly wait to get my hands on Lucy, Melody, and Ace.”
“You’re not mad at them?”
She twisted her mouth into a fiendish smile. “I don’t get mad-I get even. Their days are numbered. At this very moment there are two handsome bachelors packing their bags in New Jersey.”
“What about Ace? Isn’t there a bachelorette en route to Maine for Ace?”
Stephanie shook her head. “Ace isn’t ready for marriage. But when he is, I’m going to cut him down at the knees!” She raised her eyebrows at Ivan. “And I suppose you’ve moved into the master bedroom?”
He kissed her again. Long and sweet. “Mmmm. Aunt Tess insisted on it.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she said, teasing.
His hand tightened at her waist. He hadn’t been sure of anything except his love. She’d been gone for almost two weeks, and he’d awakened every morning dry-mouthed with fear that she wouldn’t return. Not a phone call or a postcard, and now here she was, looking at him as if she had the world by the tail. He had a strong inclination to shake her until her teeth rattled. Instead, he kissed her hard, crushing her against him.
She slid down from the kiss and rocked back on her heels, licking tingling lips. “Maybe I’m not as hungry as I thought,” she said. “Not for supper anyway.”
Ivan held her at arm’s length and looked at her. “Are you sure?”
He didn’t have to say more. They both knew what he was really asking. Are you sure you love me? Are you sure you’re ready to make a binding commitment to that love? Are you sure you don’t need more time?
Stephanie gave him a big smackeroo-type kiss. “Yes!”
Ivan pressed his face into her silky hair and swallowed, allowing relief and joy to wash away two weeks’ worth of loneliness and doubt.
Mine, he thought happily, hugging her, swinging her off her feet with a loud war whoop. He scooped her into his arms and carried her up the stairs to the master bedroom. He struck a match to the kindling that had been stacked in the black marble-and-mahogany fireplace and waited while the larger logs caught. He lit the candles in the wall sconces and turned down the thick down comforter. Then he undressed her very slowly, covering her with kisses where her clothing had been removed.
When she was entirely naked and shivering with expectation, he reached into the night- stand drawer and took out a small box. “I bought this the day you left. Sort of a token of faith, I guess.”
He opened the box and removed a perfect diamond in a simple gold setting. He held the ring between his fingers and solemnly offered it to Stephanie. “Once this ring goes on, it never comes off, Steph. Will you marry me?”
She’d always expected falling in love would be a gradual, logical process, but a pushy ghost had tumbled her down a hill-right into the arms of a pirate. And then she’d been maneuvered into bed by an entire town of backwoods matchmakers. Not your average romance, but it didn’t matter. She loved Ivan Rasmussen and his haunted house and his beautiful ship and his silly shoe factory. She slid the ring onto her finger and looked into his smoky gray eyes.
“Yes, I’ll marry you. But I’m not sure about sleeping in the master bedroom.” She gave an involuntary shiver and drew the quilt over herself. “I have this creepy feeling we’re being watched.”
A gust of wind whipped through the room, the bedroom door slammed shut, and there was the soft tread of feet on the stairs to the cupola.
“Must be the cat,” Ivan said.
“Maybe,” Stephanie said slyly. “Maybe not.”
About the Author
JANET EVANOVICH is the recipient of the Silver Dagger, Last Laugh, Lefty, and John Creasey Memorial awards and the two-time recipient of the Independent Mystery Booksellers Association’s Dilys Award. She lives in Florida.
