She swallowed. “Yes.”
“We should seal the deal.” He stuck out his right hand. “Put ’er there, partner.”
A laugh sputtered from her. “I know you said you’re no poet, but honestly, Scott...a handshake?”
Grinning, he swept her into his arms and spun her around once. “I can do better than that,” he said, and smothered her laughter with his kiss.
They took their time making their way to her bedroom. Whether because of their new status or because they were becoming more comfortable with their lovemaking, they weren’t as frantic and impatient this time, but more deliberate, savoring every touch, every kiss, every slow caress. Clothes were smoothed out of the way rather than stripped off, falling softly to the floor beside the bed. Their bodies were illuminated by the dimmed light on her nightstand, an intimate circle of light in the otherwise shadowed room.
Scott frowned when he saw the bruise on her left shoulder that ran a few inches down onto her chest. He traced it very gently with one fingertip. “Does this hurt?”
“No, not really.” Caught up in the pleasure of being snuggled against his warm, bare body, she couldn’t care less about a couple of minor bruises.
“It’s from your seat belt, isn’t it? From the accident this morning.”
“I guess. It locked up hard to keep me in my seat. I’m fine. I’ve just always bruised easily.”
A lump formed in her throat when he pressed his lips very tenderly to the bruise. He lifted his head and smoothed her hair from her face, looking into her eyes with an almost fierce expression. “I don’t want anything like that to happen to you ever again. But if it does, call me. Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, I want you to call.”
She’d had no idea it would bother him so badly that she hadn’t called him that morning. She’d planned all along to tell him about the accident, of course. But she hadn’t realized he would take the delay so personally. “I’ll call,” she promised.
He gathered her closer, lowering his mouth to hers. “Good.”
* * *
Scott lay on his side, propped on one elbow as he looked down at the woman sleeping on the pillows beside him. He’d smoothed the covers over her and she’d snuggled into them, drawing them to her chin in her sleep. It was the first time she’d slept with him there. Was she growing more accustomed to his presence in her bed, or was she simply tired after a long week, a long day? He thought of the bruise on her shoulder and scowled, hoping she hadn’t underplayed the physical effects of the accident. Should he be monitoring her sleep? No, he was overreacting. She hadn’t hit her head. Even the bruise was mild, just a smudge of purple against her fair skin.
He was satisfied that she would remember to call him now should anything similar happen in the future. Now that they were engaged, he wanted to be the first one she thought to notify in an emergency, even a minor one.
Engaged. To be married. Tess Miller had agreed to be his wife.
He mulled the words over in his mind, getting used to the feel of them. They felt...pretty good, he concluded. Really good, he added, his body still warm and heavy with satisfaction.
He was still a little dazed by the way the evening had progressed. He hadn’t intended to propose tonight, certainly not to announce their engagement before he’d even confirmed it with Tess. Hell, she’d have had every right to toss him out on his ear for his arrogance. Why hadn’t she? Considering that Tess wasn’t one to allow herself to be railroaded—not at work or in her personal life—he could only conclude that she’d accepted his proposal because she wanted to marry him. He’d made some good arguments in his own favor. Presented his case with the same enthusiasm and persuasion he used when making a pitch to a potential client. And he’d convinced her to say yes.
He always reacted to victorious presentations with pride, gratitude, personal validation. He supposed he felt those things now, but in a deeper, quieter way. Losing a bid, even a big one, was hardly devastating. Disappointing, perhaps, but there were always more jobs, more opportunities to make money. Having Tess turn down his proposal would have been harder to swallow. Since he’d concluded she was the perfect mate for him, he couldn’t imagine anyone else in her place. He’d set his sights on convincing her and he’d been persistent. And now it was going to happen. He’d won again.
So why was there a nagging feeling deep inside him that something could still go wrong? That maybe he was forgetting something or overlooking some detail?
Perhaps it was simply all too new. Hadn’t sunk in yet. Maybe it was the abrupt way the engagement had come about, as opposed to his usual practiced sales style. He’d been left with the feeling that something was still unfinished.
She stirred in her sleep and tugged the covers to her ears. He smiled. Tess was a cocooner. She’d probably nestle into his arms if he settled in beside her. Because that sounded so appealing, he did so, finding that she did, indeed, fit perfectly into the hollow of his shoulder. He hadn’t intended to spend the night, but what the heck. He had no plans in the morning. It seemed like the right time.
He brushed a kiss across her warm forehead and closed his eyes. By tomorrow, he was sure this funny feeling inside him would be resolved.
Maybe he was just tired.
* * *
Tess wondered how long it would take for the novelty of waking up with Scott to wear off. She thought it might be a while. As for the novelty of having him join her in the shower and linger there with her until the water ran cold...well, she couldn’t imagine that ever growing mundane.
They cooked breakfast together. She made French toast while he sliced fruit and brewed coffee. They didn’t talk much as they prepared the
meal, but worked in companionable silence in her small kitchen.
“So what time are we supposed to go to your sister’s?” he asked.
“She sent me a text this morning. She ordered me to be there at two. I told her you’d be joining us.”