Anne’s eyes suddenly stung as she looked at him, the square chin and the mouth that had cut at her a hundred times, and kissed her even more. She struggled for her ragged breath. She would begin as she meant to carry on…
‘If you’re asking me to marry you, Hunter Lewis, you’d better do it right, so there’s no misunderstanding about it later! I would hate you to accuse me of assuming that you had proposed when you were just making an idle comment on the tourism industry…’
His answer was to pluck a ring from his pocket and the red rose from the vase on the table and present them to her with a smoulderingly aggressive look.
‘You want me to be more explicit. All right. I love you and I know damned well you love me, so will you please drive me crazy for the rest of my life by marrying me, Anne Tremaine? and giving me children and helping me raise them, and dragging me around the world at your heels whenever you get the restless urge to stray?’
‘I do believe the only correct response to such a question in the circumstances is—Da,’ translated their fascinated witness with a deep chuckle.
Anne looked at Hunter, so brightly expectant, so intense, and yet mellowed with the merest hint of male complacency. Hunter’s belief in the strength and the quality of her love was so complete that he had always known what her answer would be.
And it would be no sacrifice to give it, wholeheartedly and without reservation.
The temptation was utterly irresistible.
She lowered her lashes demurely.
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said sweetly.
She was on her feet and out of the door, laughing, before the vibration of Hunter’s outraged roar became sound in her ears.
He caught her ten metres up the footpath, leaving Alexei to foot the bill. And it took him all of ten seconds to get the answer he wanted.