She drew in a breath, wondered if there was another woman in the world who had ever had Shelley quoted to her with eyes that threatened murder. 'Sorry. You were saying?'
He shifted his weight. 'Okay. 'When I arose and saw the dawn, I sighed for thee; When the light rode high, and the dew was gone, and...' Oh, hell.' He raked his fingers through his hair and tried to concentrate. 'I got it. 'And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turned to her rest, lingering like an unloved guest, I sighed for thee.''
His breath came out on a huff of tremendous relief. 'That's all I've got. It took me more than a week to memorize it. If you mention this to anyone—'
'I wouldn't dream of it.' Incredibly moved, she laid a hand on his cheek. 'That was very sweet of you.'
'It kind of fits the way I feel about you.' And now that it was over—thank God—it hadn't been as bad as he'd feared. 'I think about you, Regan, all day. Every day. So if you want poetry—'
'No.' With a quick shake of her head, she reached out and laid her cheek on his shoulder. 'No, I don't need poetry, Rafe.'
'I haven't bothered to give you much romance.' And he knew now, by the way her eyes had gone soft and dreamy, that he should have. 'Now it's fake flowers and somebody else's words.'
She had to cry now, but they were lovely tears, soothing ones. 'I love the flowers, and I loved the words. But I don't need them. I don't want you to change for me, Rafe. There's nothing about you I'd want to change. I said I'd take you as you are and I mean it.'
'I like you the way you are, Regan, all neat and tidy. Not that I didn't appreciate the way you filled out that leather.'
'I'm sure I could borrow it from Ed again.'
'Ed?' He rolled his eyes and chuckled weakly. 'No wonder it fit you like skin.' Then he felt the warm drops on his neck. 'Oh, don't do that, baby. Please don't.'
'I'm not really crying. I'm just touched that you'd memorize Shelley for me. That you'd care enough.' She gave him a hard squeeze before leaning back. 'I guess we both won the bet, or lost it, depending on your viewpoint.' She dried off her cheeks with the back of her hand. 'Of course, you didn't lose yours in public.'
'If you think you can talk me into giving that little recital down at the tavern, you really are crazy. I'd never get out alive.''
She drew in a deep breath. 'I think we should both stick with who and what we are. I do like who and what you are, Rafe. And I need you more than you think. I needed you when Joe came into the shop and frightened me. I just didn't want you to know it. I was afraid to let you know how much I count on you.'
He picked up her hand, kissed it, and felt dozens of wounds heal. 'You didn't have to be.'
'I figured that out for myself. I like figuring things out for myself.'
'Tell me about it.' He smiled and no longer felt foolish being on his knees. 'I like the way you figure things out for yourself. The way you handle yourself, Regan. Even when it ticks me off, I like your style.'
'I like yours, too.' She leaned forward and kissed him lightly. 'I'm going to get something to put these in.'
He reached behind him and picked up the vase she'd thrown. 'How about this?'
'That'll be fine.' She took it from him and rose to arrange the silk bouquet on the table. 'I can't believe I actually threw it.'
'It's been an eventful evening. So far.'
She glanced back, smiled. 'It certainly has. Would you like to stay, and see what happens next?'
'There we are, on the same wavelength again. You know, Regan, I think we've got more common ground than either one of us realized. You shoot decent pool, I like antiques.' He stood, moving restlessly, picked up a china cat in suddenly nerveless fingers, then set it down again. 'So, you want to get married?'
She tucked a sprig of lilacs into place. 'Hmm... You asked me that before, as I remember. And never took me up on it, because I won't watch baseball.'
'I mean it.'
She twirled to face him, and her limp hand knocked against the table. 'Excuse me?'
'Look, we haven't known each other very long.' He stepped toward her, stopped cold. She was staring at him as though he'd lost his mind. He was certain he had. 'But we've got something going here. I know we said it was just going to be sex, and we've just finished deciding we really like each other.'
'Rafe,I can't—'
'If you'd just let me fumble through this.' His tone went from quiet to testy in an instant. 'I know how you are with having to weigh your options and think things through. But the least you can do is look at this from my perspective for one damn minute. It's not just sex for me, and it never was. I'm in love with you.'
She stared into those sharp, angry eyes, heard the treasured phrase delivered in a furious snarl. And felt her heart swell like a rose blooming in her chest. 'You're in love with me,' she repeated.
It had always been easy to say the words when it didn't count—when they were just words, and not these tiny, razor-edged little pellets in his throat. 'I'm in love with you,' he said again. 'It probably happened five minutes after I met you, maybe five minutes before. I don't know. It's never happened to me before.'
'Me, either,' she murmured.
He didn't hear her, didn't hear anything but the roaring in his head. 'No one's ever needed me. I've never wanted anyone to need me. It gets in the way. But I want that from you. I have to ask that from you.' He paused, fought to steady himself. 'I don't like asking.'
'I know. You don't have to.' She walked to him, framed his face in her hands. 'Rafe, you don't have to ask.'
'If you'd give me a chance—'' he gripped her wrists '—I could make it work. We could make it work. Come on, Regan, take a risk. Live dangerously.'
'Yes.'
His grip on her wrists went lax. 'Yes, what?'
'Why do we have such a hard time hearing each other?' she asked. 'Listen up,' she ordered, and kissed him firmly. 'Yes, I'll marry you.'
'Just like that? You're not going to think about it?'
'Nope.'
'Good. Great.' A little dazed, he stepped back. 'We could, ah, t-take care of...it. Take care of it tomorrow. The license. Whatever. You want a ring...or something?'
'Yes, I do. Rafe, you're stuttering.'
'No, I'm not.' He stepped back when she stepped forward. 'I just didn't expect you to take the jump so quick.'
'If you're trying to change your mind, forget it. Was it the skirt?'
His eyes went blank and baffled. 'What skirt?'
No answer could have pleased her more. 'I think you should tell me you love me again.' Before he could evade her, she wrapped her arms around his neck, linked her fingers. 'I think you should get used to saying it.'
'I do love you.'
'And you were in love with me that first night, when we were alone, in the house on the hill?'
'I guess I was.'
'I didn't know, didn't have a clue. I wonder if the house did. I remember how quiet it got that night-how settled it all seemed. Would you like to go back there, tonight?'
'Yes.' He rested his brow on hers. 'I would.'
'There's something I should tell you first, Rafe. Something I think we should clear up between us.'
'Regan, if you're going to slap down more rules and parameters—''
'I think I should tell you,' she said interrupting him, 'that as attracted as I was to you, as aroused as I was by you, I could have slept with you without loving you.'
'I know.' He refused to be hurt by it. 'It's okay.'
'I could have done that because you're the most incredibly attractive man I've ever met, all the way through. But there's no way I would have squeezed myself into that ridiculous outfit tonight unless I'd been wildly, stupidly and completely in love with you.' Her eyes shimmered and smiled. 'Is that okay?'
'Say it again.' He took her face in his hands. 'Look at me straight-on and say it again.'
'I love you. I'm so very much in love with you, Rafe. There's nothing I want more than to go on loving you, and needing you for the rest of my life.'
