Devon wriggled in his arms. “Let—me—go!”
Ryan’s breath caught. “If you keep moving like that,” he said softly, “I’m liable to toss you down on those sweaters and give you a much more graphic demonstration of our marital status.”
Color flooded her cheeks. “What are you doing here? And how did you find me?”
“Bettina gave me your address.”
“Bettina! You spoke to my mother?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. She misses you, Devon. She almost has me convinced that somewhere beneath all the paint and sequins, there’s a woman wanting to try to be a mother.” Ryan buried his nose in Devon’s hair. “Lord,” he murmured, “I’d almost forgotten how wonderful you smell.”
“You still haven’t explained what you’re doing here, Ryan.”
“What do you think I’m doing here? I came to find you and take you home.”
“I am home. I live in Chicago now.”
Ryan smiled. “Your home is in New York, with me.”
A faint tremor swept along Devon’s skin. Don’t, she thought, please, don’t do this to me. Don’t let me begin to hope.
“What’s the matter?” she said. “Did your lawyers find something wrong with that contract?”
“What contract?”
“Don’t play games with me, Ryan. You know very well what contract, and I’m warning you right now, I don’t care what they found wrong with it. I lived up to my end and—”
“Actually, you didn’t.”
“I did. I had to put in six months as your wife, and I put in—”
“You put in five months, three weeks, and one day.” He smiled. “I figured it out, darling. You owe me at least forty-three years more.”
Devon blinked. “What?”
Ryan took her face in his hands and kissed her. She fought him at first, twisting her head from side to side, but he was persistent and oh, the warmth of his mouth was as sweet and wonderful as she’d dreamed night after lonely night since she’d left him.
With a little sob, Devon gave herself up to the kiss.
After a long, long time, he drew back, just far enough so he could look into her eyes.
“That’s how long my grandparents were married,” he whispered. “Forty-three years plus a couple of months, but I’m damned and determined to break that record.”
“Ryan.” Devon couldn’t help it. Her voice broke; she could feel tears filling her eyes. “Ryan, don’t do this. I—I don’t understand what you want.”
“You,” he said. “That’s what I want. I love you, Devon, I love you with all my heart.”
“But...but you said—”
“I said a lot of things. And so did you.”
Her face pinkened. “I know. But...but I was angry. And hurt. I didn’t mean—”
“I didn’t, either.” Ryan stroked his thumb over her bottom lip. “I was going to tell you I loved you that day in Central Park.”
“But...but why didn’t you?”
He sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. “I don’t know. A combination of wanting the right setting and sheer terror, maybe.” He smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “We confirmed bachelors are a special breed, sweetheart. We don’t give up easily.”