Kiss The Cook

in his hands.

'Not a chance,' he said, his heart pounding with relief. 'I love you. Completely. Totally.'

'I love you, too. So much.'

He huffed out a breath and smiled. 'Thank God. Now, are you going to finish what you started here, or am I going to have to jump in the tub with my shoes and pants on?' He nuzzled her neck. 'Something about you and water bodes poorly for my clothes.'

She reached for his belt. 'I'll finish.'

He toed off his tassel loafers, peeled off his socks, and kicked them aside. Then he stood in an agony of anticipation while she slowly divested him of his trousers and boxers. The instant he was naked, he stepped into the steaming bath and lowered himself into the mountain of bubbles. Melanie joined him, settling her slippery body on top of his.

He held her tight against him, emotions swamping him from every direction. She loved him. He loved her. She was his. He was hers. And he wanted it to always be that way. Forever.

Tunneling his fingers through her hair, he gently pushed her head back until their eyes met. He saw all the love in the world shining at him from her big brown eyes.

'You're everything I never knew I always wanted,' he said, unable to keep the husky note from his voice. He shook his head. 'Does that make sense?'

A tender smile lit her face. 'Perfect sense. You're everything I always wanted but was afraid to ask for.'

'Seems like we're a good team.'

'A perfect match,' she agreed.

'So let's get married.'

He watched her eyes widen to saucers. 'Excuse me?'

'Marry me.'

She stared at him, and he couldn't decide which word better described her expression- amazed or horrified.

He decided to hope for amazed.

When she continued to stare at him, bug-eyed and silent, he observed, 'It seems I've left you speechless.'

'You're serious,' she finally said.

'Dead serious,' he assured her. 'Marriage isn't something I'd joke about.'

'But you can't ask me to marry you in the bathtub!' she wailed.

Female logic. Go figure. 'Why not?'

'Because someday our kids will ask us to tell them about how Daddy proposed to Mommy. How can we tell them we were skinny-dipping in the bathtub? Good grief. And how could we tell your mother and sisters? And Nana?'

'Oh, all right,' he grumbled. He slid her off him, stood up, then scooped her up into his arms. Unmindful of the trail of water and soapsuds dripping behind them, he padded across the floor into his bedroom.

He was just about to lay her on the bed when she exclaimed, 'Not here! You can't propose to me in bed.'

'Why the hell not?'

'The same reason. What sort of example will we be setting for our children if we tell them we were in bed together when you popped the question?'

'Jeez. We don't even have these kids yet, and already they're giving me a pain in the ass.' He looked around for somewhere she might deem appropriate and came up blank. 'What do you suggest? I'm not about to lug you outside. We'll get arrested.'

'We have to get dressed, Chris.'

'Dressed?'

'Yes. We can't be naked.'

He set her on her feet. 'Who makes up these crazy rules? And the reason we can't be naked is…'

'Your mother, your sisters, Nana-they'll all ask me what I was wearing when you proposed. I cannot tell them I was buck naked.'

Chris wasn't sure if he was annoyed or amused. 'Can't you tell them you were so overcome with happiness, you forgot what you were wearing?'

'No can do. I'm not a good liar.' She patted his cheek. 'Besides, it's a girl thing.'

Somehow he hadn't imagined his proposal going quite this way. Feeling very put-upon, he stomped to his closet and pulled out his robe.

Tossing it to her he said, 'Here. You can say you were wearing Ralph Lauren.'

She checked the designer tag and nodded. 'Okay.' She slipped the robe on and belted it.

He stalked to his dresser and grabbed a pair of Nike sweatpants. Grumbling under his breath, he jammed his legs into them. 'Is this acceptable?'

'Perfect. Thank you. Now you may propose.'

'Terrific. So what do you say?'

'About what?'

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. 'About getting married. Yes or no?'

She raised her brows. 'Wow. How excruciatingly romantic.'

He dragged his palms down his face. 'I'm sorry. But I've never proposed before. I wasn't aware all this damn protocol was involved.' He took her hands and entwined their fingers. 'I love you, Melanie. I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?'

A brilliant smile lit her face. 'Yes.' She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. 'Now I'll ask you. Will you marry me?'

'Oh, no,' he said, shaking his head. 'If you're gonna ask me, we have to do it the guy way.'

'The guy way?'

'Yeah.' He untied the robe and slid it from her shoulders. Then he shucked his sweatpants, scooped her up, and carried her back to the bed.

Once they were lying in each other's arms, he said, 'Okay. I'm ready. Go ahead and ask. Now when all my buddies ask me about popping the question, I can say we were in bed and naked.' He kissed her nose. 'It's a guy thing.'

She laughed. 'Will you marry me?'

He scrunched up his face and pretended to consider the question. 'Well, let's see. On the plus side, you're really cute, sweet, and a great cook. Of course you're kinda bossy sometimes-ouch!' He rubbed his shoulder where she'd lightly punched him. 'Okay! I'll marry you, Mel Gibson.' He grinned. 'Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd say.'

She shot him a belligerent glare. 'Wanna change your mind?'

He rolled them over until she sat astride him. 'No way.'

'When should we do it?'

He ran his hands up her body and cupped her breasts. 'Hmmm. How about right now?'

'You want to get married right now?'

'No. I want to make love to you right now. We can get married tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow?'

'Next week?'

'That doesn't give us much time to plan a wedding.'

'How much time do we need?' he asked. 'All you need for a wedding is a bride, a groom, and a minister. We have two out of three. How long can it take to find a minister?'

He rolled them again until she was under him, then settled himself between her splayed thighs.

'Besides,' he added, running his lips down the length of her neck, 'the wedding has to take place soon. Starting next month you'll be too busy with your new catering enterprise to take time off to get married. We need a couple of weeks for a honeymoon.'

She moved beneath him, running her hands down his back. 'Hmmm. Yes. The honeymoon.'