Falling for the Marine (McCade Brothers 2)

She wasn’t nearly as deft at popping the handcuffs as he’d been.

“Time is of the essence,” he teased after she tried for the second time to fit the key into the hole and missed.

“Do you want to take over?” she shot back, mildly exasperated.

“Nope. It’s your turn to rescue me.”

“It hardly counts as a rescue if you could just as easily free yourself.”

“It’s symbolic. We’re working on a new Grandkid Story here.”

“All right then.” She stabbed the key in and smiled as the lock clicked open.

“Thanks.” He wiggled out of the cuff, took the key from her, and slipped the ring off the loop. Then he lifted her left hand and stared deep into her eyes. “Okay, listen up, because this is the real deal this time—for posterity and whatnot. Are you ready?”

She nodded and then quickly wiped her cheeks and under her eyes so posterity wouldn’t include her tear-stained face.

“Chloe Kincaid, I love you. I fell for you the very first night we met, when I walked into your apartment and discovered my gorgeous, possibly crazy new neighbor handcuffed to her own bed. I love the way you sing off-key at the top of your lungs. I love that you think to arrange furniture for optimal Chi flow. I love the way all your clutter turns a sterile, drab apartment into a home. Bottom line, Chloe? You’re my home. Wherever you go, wherever I go, wherever we go, you’re my home. I want to be your home, too—and keep in mind I endured an hour under a needle to give you symbolic proof.” He slipped the ring onto her finger. “So, what do you say?”

She crawled over him until she straddled his lap. “You’re my home, too, Michael.”

“Does that mean yes?”

She picked up the handcuffs, slapped one bracket around his wrist, and secured the other around hers. “What do you think?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I think our Grandkid Story is going to need some editing.”

“Yes,” she said, before he leaned in and kissed her, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she was finally home.

Epilogue

THREE MONTHS LATER…

Chloe dropped her duffel bag and garment bag on the bed with a sigh of relief, kicked off her shoes, and then looked around the empty hotel suite. She’d figured her days of empty hotel rooms were over, but this morning proved her wrong. She pressed a hand to her queasy stomach and took a deep, calming breath.

This suite was particularly lovely, with its spacious rooms and double balconies boasting endless ocean views…and it wouldn’t be empty for long. She glanced at her watch and gaped at the time. In less than thirty minutes she’d be at the center of a whirlwind of activity.

The thought of all that activity got her pulse revving. She didn’t mind the rev, but this was the beginning of a long, important day and she didn’t want to exhaust herself before it even started. Nor did she want to throw up. A few minutes of open-air meditation might do the trick.

Inspired, she stepped out onto the balcony and breathed deeply. Closed her eyes. Let her mind go blank.

“Hello Chloe.”

Shock nearly sent her hurtling over the railing. Two strong arms clamped around her waist and pulled her back against the safety of a tall, strong, extremely familiar body. “Are you trying to bolt on me, free bird? Because I have to warn you, you can’t really fly.”

“Michael!” She turned in his arms and thumped his chest with her palm. “What are you doing here? Don’t you know it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?”

He shrugged, completely unconcerned. “I’ve got good feng shui, baby. I don’t need luck. I also didn’t need a room key because you left the door open.” His wandering hand found her butt and pinched her.

She swatted his hand away. “I left it open on purpose, because your mom and Loretta are going to be here soon.”

“Let them knock. I wanted to check in on you before things got too crazy. Make sure you weren’t getting cold feet.”

“Me?” She wiggled her bare toes. “My feet are warm and comfy. Why are you worried?”

He rested his forehead against hers. “I know this isn’t the nice, simple exchange-vows-on-the-beach-in-Jamaica deal we talked about. Once my mom got involved,” he lifted his head and rolled his eyes, “and then with Loretta spurring things on and Lynne and Veronica, who I stupidly thought might be the voice of reason…the whole thing kind of spiraled. I don’t want you to feel penned in by all this, ’cause it’s not too late for us to grab our bags and fly off to Jamaica. I’ll leave a note telling e

veryone to enjoy the reception.”