A Proposal to Remember

Zan laughed. ‘Is your ego as large as your fortune, Mr Santini?’

‘Larger,’ Carlo said proudly. ‘I’m Italian, remember. And size matters when it comes to egos. Egos, Christmas trees and—’

‘Yes, yes, I know,’ Zan interrupted him quickly, her eyes twinkling and her cheeks pink. ‘You still haven’t explained how you found me.’

‘I asked the midwife where you were. The same midwife who’d told you to meet me at the flat. I put two and two together, as you say in this country.’

‘I was starting to get worried.’

Carlo hugged her against him. ‘You don’t know worried,’ he groaned. ‘Worried is what I felt when I saw that lunatic holding a knife to your throat.’

She hugged him back and then saw him wince. ‘Your hand! I forgot about your hand. Show me.’

Carlo wiggled his fingers. ‘I’ll live.’

‘It’s bruising already.’ She looked up at him. ‘You hit him hard, Carlo.’

She’d never forget the raw fury in his eyes when he’d looked at her attacker and the skill with which he’d freed her. It was no wonder he didn’t use a bodyguard.

‘He threatened the woman I love.’ Carlo’s voice was soft and Zan bit her lip shyly.

‘You’re sure you love me?’

A strange expression crossed his face. ‘Could you fetch me some ice for this hand, tesoro?’

So his hand was hurting more than he’d let on.

Slightly disappointed that he hadn’t declared his love more emphatically, she stood up and hurried into the kitchen.

Maybe he didn’t love her that much.

She pulled the ice tray out of the freezer compartment and then gasped.

Inside one of the squares was a stunning diamond ring.

Was he proposing?

‘I love you, Suzannah, and I want you to marry me.’ His velvety male tones came from behind her and she turned quickly, still clutching the tray of ice cubes with the ring inside.

‘How long has this been in here?’

‘Since this morning when we finished tidying up your flat. It’s a good job those thugs didn’t want ice in their drinks,’ he drawled, lifting the ring out of the ice tray and holding it in his palm. It sparkled and winked temptingly and she gazed at it in astonishment.

‘You bought it this morning? But it’s Boxing Day. You can’t buy a ring on Boxing Day. The shops are shut.’

Carlo smiled. ‘Not if your name is Santini.’

She shook her head in wonder as he reached forward and took her hand.

‘I can’t believe you mean this,’ she whispered, her lips parting in a sigh as he slipped the ring onto her finger. ‘You seriously want me to marry you?’

‘Oh, yes.’ His dark gaze was fixed on her possessively. ‘I’ve never been more serious about anything in my whole life.’

‘B-but you date models and film stars,’ she stammered, twisting the ring on her finger and looking at him doubtfully. ‘I’m just me.’

‘And I love everything about you,’ he said softly, pulling her closer. ‘I think I loved you from the moment you knocked me onto the wet street. You were brave and funny and dedicated to your patients and you were nothing like the women I’ve ever known before. I

love your green eyes and your dimples and your amazing legs. I love the fact that you care about everyone—I even love the fact that you can give me a black eye if I ever step out of line.’