Best Man's Conquest (15 page)

“I guess I forgot to get dressed.”

“We have to talk,” he grumbled. It wasn't a request. It was an order.

“Okay, let's talk.”

“Can I come in? If I'm going to grovel, I'm sure as
hell
not going to do it in front of your neighbors.”

Grovel?

Dillon laid down the law. He divided and conquered. But Dillon
did not
grovel.

Without waiting for an answer, and in typical Dillon form, he strong-armed his way inside and shut the door behind him.

“Make yourself at home,” she mumbled, annoyed, but only a little.

“So here's the deal,” he said in that Master of the Universe tone. “I'm not going to let you toss me away again.”

So this was his idea of groveling? Ordering her around again?

She crossed her arms over her chest, stuck her chin up in the air. “You're not?”

He settled into an identical, defiant stance. “Nope.”

“Do I have a say in this?”

“Nope. I love you, and you love me. Even though you're too damned stubborn to admit it.”

Oh, she was, was she? Why in the heck did he think she was coming to see him? To tell him she
didn't
love him?

“For your information, I do love you. Although at times like this I have to wonder why.”

“Great, so you won't object to the fact that you're marrying me.”

A shiver of excitement scrambled up her spine. He wanted to marry her. “If that was a proposal, you really need to work on your delivery.”

“You want me to get down on one knee? Fine.” He dropped down in front of her. “How's that?”

“Better.” A lot closer to the groveling he'd promised.

He looked her right in the eye and said, “Marry me.”

Another demand. For Pete's sake, could he drop the macho act for two seconds?

“What about my work? My career? If we get married, professionally I could be ruined. You said yourself that it was too much to ask me to give up.”

The cockiness never wavered. “Too bad. Because I'm asking.”

No, he wasn't. He was telling. The way he always did. But knowing how hard it must have been for him to swallow his pride and come here in the first place, this time she didn't mind so much. He was just being Dillon, and she didn't expect him to change. She loved him, warts and all. This time she was going into the deal with her eyes wide open.

That didn't mean it wouldn't be entertaining to mess with him just a little. “And if I say no?”

“You won't.”

“But what if I do?”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “I'll ask again. And again. And I'll keep asking until you say yes.”

The odds of a normal, traditional proposal seemed to hover somewhere in the million-to-one range. “Well, then, I guess I don't have much of a choice. I guess I have to say yes.”

He rose to his feet and pulled her to him, not so roughly this time, and kissed her again. This time it lasted longer, felt…sweeter. Tender, even. His hands cupped her face, lips brushing lazily back and forth across hers. She heard him sigh, felt him shudder with satisfaction.

The kiss trailed off slowly, his lips lingering above hers. And when she opened her eyes to look at him, he was smiling that lazy, happy smile.

“This could be complicated,” she warned him.

He only shrugged. “We'll figure it out.”

“Our mothers—”

“—will adjust,” he finished for her. He glanced over her shoulder, down the hall. “Have you got a bedroom in this place?”

“I want kids,” she warned him.

“Great.” He lowered his head, nibbled the curve of her neck. A new round of shivers exploded across her skin.

“I'm serious, Dillon.”

“Fine with me.” He licked the shell of her ear, nipped at it with his teeth. Desire ignited in the pit of her belly and burned its way through her arms and legs and into her head.

“I want at least two,” she told him, her voice coming out breathy and soft. “And I want to do it soon, before I'm too old.”

“Good idea.” He walked her backward down the hall, his hands gentle yet determined as they circled her waist, easing her T-shirt up. “In fact, I think we should start trying right now.”

Apparently she wasn't moving quickly enough, because he lifted her right off her feet and carried her the rest of the way.

He found the bedroom on the first try and shouldered his way through the door, then he all but tossed her on the bed and dropped down beside her. Instead of ravaging her, the way she expected, he just looked down at her and smiled.

“This is going to be good.” He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose. “This is going to be really good.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “it is.” They really had come full circle, and wound up exactly where they were supposed to be. She wasn't going to try to fool herself into thinking it would be easy. They were still both stubborn as hell. But this time, at least, they had maturity on their side.

“You know we're going to have to work at this,” she said, and he nodded solemnly.

“I know.”

“We're going to have to keep the lines of communication open or we'll end up just like we were ten years ago.”

“I understand that.”

“You can't just—”

He silenced her with a kiss. A long, slow, mind-melting deep one.

When it was over, she felt hot and fuzzy-headed. “What was I saying?”

“Ivy, you don't have to worry. We'll do what we have to do. Whatever it takes.” His eyes searched her face, filled with love and affection and respect. “I let you go twice, darlin'. That's a mistake I won't be making again.”

 

Coming soon from Series Press—from half the author team who brought us the bestselling self-help book
The Modern Woman's Guide to Divorce (And the Joy of Staying Single), Not All Men Are Pigs or What Was I Thinking?

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