Leave the Lights On (26 page)

“What did you say?” She looked so shocked he wondered if it had been a mistake but he’d said it and he meant it.

“I’m asking you to marry me.”

The loudspeaker announced the boarding call for Sophie’s flight.
Shit. Answer me. Please say yes.

“This is crazy, Parker. You can’t just propose to me and expect everything to be okay. I just saw you kissing Chrissie.”

“And the other week you came home and told me you kissed Joey. You told me nothing else happened, and I took you at your word. Can’t you do the same for me?”

Sophie flinched. “That’s different.”

“How is it different? Apparently we both have people from our pasts who wish they’d paid more attention to us when they had the chance. That’s their loss. And their problem. Not ours. You and I are the smart ones.”

“I don’t feel very smart right now.”

Parker swept her hair behind her ear, rubbing his thumb against her cheek. “We’re goddamned geniuses. We figured out we’re good together. Really, really good together. I expect everything to be better than okay for us. I expect us to have a long, happy life together. Just say yes.”

Parker held his breath. He could see it in her eyes that she was coming around, that she wanted to say yes.
Come on, baby. Trust me. Trust us.

She shook her head. “I can’t think straight. And I’m really going to miss my plane.”

As much as he wanted an answer he didn’t want to push too hard. “Okay. Go ahead. Get on the plane. Have a safe trip. And know that when you get home I’m going to be waiting for you.”

Sophie’s eyes remained wide. “Okay.”

“I love you.”

She nodded, but didn’t say it back. His stomach clenched tight as a fist.
Shit.

He watched as she went through the scanner and put her shoes and jacket back on. She turned and gave him a brief wave then disappeared into the sea of people as she headed for her gate.
Two days. She’s got two days to think this over and I’ve got two days to make sure that when she gets back she knows exactly how I feel about her.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sophie drove home exhausted from her trip. The weekend had been nonstop bridal events. Rehearsal dinner, bridesmaid luncheon, wedding, send-off brunch. She’d barely had time to change clothes and brush her teeth. The few phone calls she’d had with Parker were brief, and she knew she’d made them awkward by ignoring the fact that he’d proposed to her in the airport.

He didn’t mean it. He panicked.
She was sure of it. They had managed to talk enough that she felt confident that nothing was going on with him and Chrissie. Once she’d had time to think more clearly, she’d realized he was right. He’d trusted her with the Joey situation. She owed him the same.

Realizing that she actually did trust him came as quite a surprise. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought him to be trustworthy, she just honestly hadn’t thought that she’d ever have that kind of faith in anyone ever again. Not after what Nate had put her through. The fact that she felt safe with Parker meant more to her than she could possibly tell him. She only hoped that too much hadn’t happened between them. So many doubts. So much turmoil. What if he decided it wasn’t worth all this drama? She regretted giving him such a hard time.

She pulled into her driveway, noticing how purple the sky was as the sun made its way behind the treetops. A perfect late-summer night. As she headed up her front walk she saw a trail of flower petals leading from her slate walkway around the side of the house.

She followed them, her heart beating faster. The path stopped at the gate to the backyard. As she opened it her breath caught in her throat. The yard had been transformed. Rose bushes, hydrangeas, a white wooden trellis covered in flowering vines. Twinkling white lights adorned the branches of half a dozen trees that now lined the fence behind the pool. It was exactly how she’d described her dream backyard to Parker. Down to the last detail. She’d told him if she ever got married again she wanted it to be at home, a small group of friends and all her favorite things.

Parker stepped out from under the porch awning and walked toward her, eyes locked on hers. “Did I get it right?” he asked.

Not trusting her voice, Sophie nodded. “It’s perfect,” she managed to whisper.

“Good. You deserve perfection. You deserve everything you want, Sophie, and that’s what I want to give you. Everything. All of me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to offer that to anyone. I thought I was too broken. That between Chrissie and the accident I had nothing left to give. But you made me realize that’s not true. Chrissie’s like the baseball trophies. She’s what I used to want. She’s my past. All of that is nothing but the past. You’re my future. My whole future.”

Sophie’s heart beat a fierce rhythm in her ears. Her eyes welled with tears. “Are you sure?”

He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear then slid his hand down her arm, dropping to one knee.

Oh my God.

He pulled a small black box out of his pants pocket. He opened it, and she saw the diamond ring sparkling against the dark velvet.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. I want to grow old with you. I want to have kids with you. I want to move into a house where our kids have friends who live next door and I want us to spy on them as they sneak out to hang out together late at night. I want the entire world to know you’re my wife. I want to share everything with you, the good stuff and the bad stuff. I love you, Sophie. In some ways I always have but it’s stronger now. I’m stronger now. You make me a better person. You’re what I’ve been waiting for my entire life. Say yes. Marry me.”

The look in his eyes, so intense, so sincere, melted her heart. “Yes.” The word came out as a breath.

The smile that spread across Parker’s face sent tingles through every inch of her body.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.”

Parker slid the ring onto her finger and stood, pulling her into his arms and kissing her. She breathed him in, wrapping her arms around him as he held her close. His voice was soft as he whispered against her lips. “I’m aiming for way more than a thousand times.”

The End

About the Author

Karen Stivali is a prolific writer, compulsive baker and chocoholic with a penchant for books, movies and fictional British men. When she’s not writing, she can be found cooking extravagant meals and serving them to family and friends. Prior to deciding to write full-time Karen worked as a hand-drawn animator, a clinical therapist, and held various food-related jobs ranging from waitress to specialty cake maker. Planning elaborate parties and fundraisers takes up what’s left of her time and sanity.

Look for these titles by Karen Stivali

Now Available:

Then, Again

Sometimes you have to lose it all to find what you really need.

Then, Again

© 2013 Karen Stivali

Photographer Kay Turner is dealt a double whammy when she flies home for her grandmother’s funeral to find her boyfriend with another woman. Now with two losses to mourn, she retreats to her newly inherited beach house to clear her head.
 

Everything at the beach is familiar: the sounds of the ocean, the scent of her grandmother’s perfume—and the irresistible smile of James Margolis. The man Kay spent her adolescence pining for is every bit as charming as she remembers.

James always thought of Kay as “a nice kid”, but he feels something very different for the woman she’s become. Especially when he asks if she’d be willing to part with some of her grandmother’s recipes for his new restaurant—and they wind up sharing much more than culinary secrets.

But as their relationship deepens, Kay finds herself caught between the demands of her dream career as a travel photographer, and a chance for happiness with the one man she’s wanted for a lifetime.

Warning:
This foodie romance contains sensual scone baking, a heroine who discovers one bad apple hasn’t spoiled her appetite, and a delicious hero you can’t help but crave. Blend well, serve hot.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Then, Again:

James had been hoping Kimmy would come by the store. He knew she’d be back in town, at least for the funeral, and he’d been scanning the crowd of customers for her all day. He hadn’t expected her to look quite so fantastic. Her long wavy hair was the exact color of honey, innocent but sexy in two simple ponytails. Even in jeans and a T-shirt she was a knockout. Her once oversized features now perfectly accented her heart-shaped face, the gangly legs had grown shapely. There was no hint of the awkward girl she’d been years ago when they’d first met. She was all woman now, and it took his breath away.

When he told her the restaurant was his, her already round eyes widened, glistening like molten dark chocolate flecked with gold. “Really?” Her voice was low, crooning. “You’re in the restaurant business? I thought you’d gone into finance.”

“I did, but I kept getting sucked back into the family business with the fish market and I’ve always loved food. I did some restaurant management courses and spent some time at culinary schools in Italy, Montepulciano and Palermo, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever go for it. Then this place went on the market and I decided to just do it.”

“That’s awesome.” She made her way around the kitchen, her delicate hands running along the smooth stainless steel surfaces, her hips swaying as she moved around the center counter. “When do you open?”

“I wish I could answer that. A couple of months, I hope. We’ve hit a few snags with the contractors. It’s okay, though. Gives me more time to perfect the menu. Starting with the chowders.”

“Plural? How many chowders will there be?” She leaned against the counter, tilting forward just enough to make her breasts swell against the fabric of her T-shirt. His stomach knotted as he tried not to be too obvious about noticing.

“You want to see the tentative menu?” He reached up and pulled a folder off the top shelf.

She traced her finger down the paper as she read. He eyed the invisible trail with envy.
Jesus. Settle down.
She probably thinks you’re an old man.

“This sounds amazing,” she said. “Clam and sausage chowder. My grandmother used to make that.”

“I know. It’s her recipe.”

Her plump pink lips fell open. “Seriously?”

“She used to bring it into the fish market for us at the holidays, and one year I talked her into teaching me how to make it. It’s one of my favorite soups, there’s no way it wasn’t going on the menu. I’ll name it after her, I just haven’t gotten around to naming the dishes yet.”

“She’d love that.” Kay’s eyes misted and she glanced away.
Kay. A grown-up name to go with the rest of her look.

“You want to try a bowl? See if I got it right?”

“What, now?”

“Sure.” He pulled open one door of the double fridge. “I made a pot last night. I was going to have it for dinner with some of these oysters. The rest will become oyster and corn chowder, a recipe I don’t have perfected. Yet.”

Kay stared at him with an expression he couldn’t read. Gratitude? Fascination? Maybe she just thought he was crazy to be opening a restaurant in the current economy. Whatever it meant he was glad to have an excuse to make eye contact with her. He held her gaze until she flushed and looked away. She handed him back the menu. “I haven’t had a real meal in days, I’ll try anything you like.”

Her words stirred endless possibilities in his mind, but he tried to push them all aside and concentrate on getting her some food. He scooped crushed ice out of the ice machine and went to work shucking the oysters while the soup heated on the stove.

She sat perched on one of the barstools he’d brought in from the dining room.

“If you want a beer there are some in the fridge, bottom shelf.” He couldn’t help but sneak a look at her ass as she bent down.

“You want one?” she asked, catching him watching her.

“Sure.”

“You’ve got an awful lot of food in here for a restaurant that’s not open.”

“Barter. I’ve been feeding the workers and training the kitchen staff. They grumble about the heat less when they’ve got full stomachs. Plus I get to try out new recipes. Can you grab that small silver bowl from the fridge?”

“This one?”

“That’s it.” He set the platter of oysters between them and quartered a lemon. “How do you take your oysters? Straight? Lemon? Or you want to try the sauce?”

Her brow furrowed as she settled herself back on the stool. “How about one of each?”

“You’re my kind of woman.” She giggled, her thick lashes batting against her cheeks as she flushed a shade darker. For a second he caught a hint of the teenaged Kimmy, then her eyes met his again. One sexy flash and she was completely back to being Kay.

“Let’s start with plain.” He handed her an open shell then took one for himself.

She raised the oyster to her lips then tossed it back, her neck arching, eyes closing. He could imagine her tongue rolling as she tasted the briny-sweet morsel before swallowing. His throat went dry. The low moan she emitted tugged at something deep within his belly.
Jesus.