“No.” He shook his head.
“No?” It was worse than she thought. “But they can’t take Ruby Hawk from you! The company means everything to you.”
“There is only one thing that means everything to me. And that’s my wife.” He opened his right fist.
Her wedding ring sat on his palm, shining like a blazing star, sending refracted shards of rainbow dancing around the room.
She stared at it, caught between holding her breath and hyperventilating, as he held it out. “The board of directors didn’t remove me. I resigned. Anjuli is the new CEO. She’s more than a match for Nestor,” he said.
His blue gaze was alight with so much emotion it made her tremble. “I don’t understand. You gave up Ruby Hawk?”
“You were right. I had to stop the game. Stop allowing the past to dictate the future. Stop controlling the present.” He smiled, and it was so tender her breath caught. “Allow for serendipity.”
Hope started to flower, big, showy blossoms of delight and joy. Her veins sang with it. “What about Irene? And my email about our contract? Cinco Jackson’s exposé?”
He laughed. “I called Cinco and told him the whole thing.” He held up the hand with the chip again. “Took a risk, but it paid off. He was much more intrigued about the Stavros Group hacking email to find blackmail material on their potential business partners than he was in our contract. Irene is busy fending off his phone calls.”
The grin on her face painfully stretched her skin, but she didn’t care. “So you’re not going to start a new company and sell it under ridiculous conditions?”
“A new company, yes. I’ve already talked to Grayson Monk and Evan Fletcher about joining Medevco. But no more conditions.” He stepped closer, his scent teasing her nose. She yearned to throw her arms around his neck and press her lips to the skin just below his jaw, inhaling more of it, for the rest of time. “I’m never letting you go again. I love you, Danica Novak.”
It was a good thing she was in a medical facility, because she wasn’t sure her heart could hold all the happiness. She cupped his beloved face with her hands, tracing the faint lines that appeared in his forehead, reveling in the prickle of his five-o’clock shadow against her fingertips.
“You didn’t shave this morning,” she babbled, scarcely aware she spoke as she bathed in the heat and passion and love—yes, love—radiating from his gaze.
“I was in too much of a hurry to do this.” And then his mouth was on hers and she couldn’t think at all, lost in the wonder that was Luke kissing her, reaffirming just how much she meant to him. She melted into him, her lips opening under his, pressing as close to him as the thin barrier of their clothes would allow. She—
Someone tapped on her shoulder. Through the heat and haze, a voice said, “Hey, I hate to break this up, but...”
It sounded like Matt. But he should be in his room.
Danica disengaged from Luke and turned to whoever interrupted them. And then she clung to Luke even harder.
It was Matt. And Matt—Matt was standing. As she stared, blinking, he grinned and began to walk.
Oh, he was holding onto a walker, and his progress was slow. But he was moving his legs.
“Look at you.” Tears, which had been threatening to form ever since she first spotted Luke, now leaked down her cheeks. Luke handed her a packet of tissues, which she gratefully accepted. Then she frowned at her brother. “Have you been hiding your progress from me?”
“Just this past week. Got access to some new therapies,” he said, nodding at Luke.
“From Luke?” She gaped at him.
Luke smiled and tucked her against his side. “It was your idea to use Ruby Hawk technology in sports equipment that got me started. Medevco’s products include revolutionary tools for use in physical therapy. Matt was kind enough to be one of our test subjects.”
The tears burned hot on her cheeks. But then, joy should feel warm. “Thank you for helping my brother.”
“He’s family,” Luke said simply.
Danica’s gaze searched his face. Once upon a time she thought he resembled a brooding man of the moors, solitary, disdaining help from other people. And he still did—but the aura of utter self-sufficiency was no longer evident. “Family isn’t a four-letter word now?”