“Oh, really?” Her heart thudded crazily. “And how do you feel about it these days?”

He shrugged. “It’s not as bad as I thought.”

They gazed at each other. She laid her fingertips against the bruises under his eyes, petting them. He seized her hand, kissed it.

“I called my father,” he offered.

She blinked, taken aback. “Wow. And? So? How did it go?”

“It was weird,” he admitted. “Awkward. But we got through it.”

“So? What did you say to him? What did he say? Tell me!”

He kissed her hand again, and again, making her wait. “I, uh, asked him if I should send him an invitation to my wedding.”

Her jaw dropped. Too much, all at once. Her throat shook.

“Ah, shit,” Liam muttered. “I’m sorry. That came out all wrong. I know I have to propose, and beg and grovel first. And I didn’t mean to sound like it’s a done deal. It was a…a hypothetical question.”

“Hy-hypothetical,” she whispered.

“Yeah. You know. In case I get lucky.”

She hid her face. He waited patiently for several minutes.

“So?” he coaxed. “You are my queen. Everything that’s beautiful and fine. I’ll spend my life trying to be worthy. Trying not to fuck this up. Please. Say yes. Be my wife.”

“I…I love you, too,” she burst out.

His grin began to spread. “That’s a yes? That means I got lucky?”

“That means I love you,” she said. “I already have two wedding dresses in storage. I don’t know if I could handle being engaged again.”

“Okay,” he said promptly. “Let’s skip the engaged part, and go straight to the married part. I got on the Internet before I came here. There’s a red-eye flight for Vegas. Tonight.”

She started to laugh, helplessly, tears in her eyes. “Oh, God.”

“We can get married by an Elvis impersonator. Spend three days on a vibrating bed. Rent a convertible, drive through the desert.”

It sounded surreal. Wonderful. “What about the invitation? For your dad?”

He shrugged. “Oh, that. We can do another wedding when we’re back. For your sisters, and your friends. This one will be just for us.”

He waited for a moment, and went on, his voice more hesitant. “Your schedule permitting, of course. I didn’t buy the tickets yet. Didn’t want to seem cocky. It can wait. If you’ve got work commitments.”

“Wow, Liam,” she said demurely. “That speech sounds rehearsed.”

“It’s so obvious?” he asked, rueful. “Give me credit for trying.”

Nancy slid her hands around his waist. “Have you been eating?”

“Hey! You stole my line.”

“I have to fatten you up,” she said. “There’s this great little Vietnamese place down the block that has killer noodles.”

“Don’t you have any noodles here? Spaghetti, linguini?”

“Are you kidding?” she scoffed. “With a name like D’Onofrio?”

“If we make our noodles here, we have the advantage of being able to get naked and sweaty while the water boils,” he pointed out.

She laughed at him, tears slipping down her face. “Um, all right.”

“That’s awesome. But you haven’t answered my proposal.”

She bit her lip. “Liam. I love you. You love me. Isn’t that miracle enough for now? Can’t we just be grateful? Let’s not push our luck.”

He looked mutinous. “I want it all. Every night. In my bed.”

“Hmm,” she murmured. “I thought you were working on the concept of compromise.”

“Yeah, but let’s not overdo it.” He touched her face, as carefully as if she were one of Lucia’s orchids. “I almost lost you forever,” he said. “It would have ripped my heart out. I love you, Nancy. I’ll never stop loving you. Push your luck with me all you want, and keep on pushing. There’s no limit to it. It’s bigger than any limits. It’s deeper than the ocean.”

Something moved inside her chest, swelling until her heart was about to burst. Until there was no more room for fear.

“Yes,” she said, and reached for him.

Ask for More

Chapter

1

It was him again. Right on time.

Nell ducked behind the dessert display case, eying him hungrily over the pecan fudge brownies, tingling from that guilty rush she got whenever she saw him. The only thing effervescent enough to ease the chronic, heavy ache in her middle that she was carrying around these days. She craved the feeling.

He checked to see if his usual table by the window was free. It was. The lunch rush was nearly over by the time he arrived; three-fifteen, regular as clockwork.

He took off his jacket, tossed it on the chair, and seated himself. He pulled out a laptop, opened it, and set to work, face grimly intent. As he had every day Nell had worked the lunch shift at the Sunset Grill.

For weeks he’d been coming every day, and she’d found herself starting to take all the lunch shifts she could, even though she earned way more tips with dinner. Broke as she was, that fleeting, ephemeral rush was worth more to her than the cash. She had it bad.

Considering that the guy remained utterly oblivious to her existence.

She polished her glasses, perched them back on her nose, and fished the order she had just taken out of her short-term memory. She dished up ratatouille for the table of women underneath the aquarium, sneaking peeks as she drizzled vinaigrette and tossed grated beets and sunflower seeds on their salads. She loaded the tray and chose a path through the restaurant that brought her by his table. Close enough to smell the detergent his crisp white shirt was washed in. The next sneaky sweep past him garnered her a hungry whiff of his aftershave. Mmm. Nice. Those shoulders, wow. Flaring out, so broad and thick. Solid-looking. He wasn’t movie-star handsome at all, not with that narrow, angular face. She’d studied his features minutely, reviewing them in her dreams and daydreams, but every time she saw the real flesh-and-blood thing, it was a fresh thrill. She loved the severity of his features. That bladelike nose with a crooked bump on it, the black, slashing eyebrows set at a sharp upward angle. His cheeks were lean, with grooves flanking his mouth, and he had crinkled lines around his eyes, as if he’d squinted into desert sun. His mouth was grim, his black hair short, sticking up wildly. She doubted it was due to styling gel. He was not the type to affect messy hair on purpose. This guy could not possibly be bothered.

She peeked at his computer screen from behind his broad, muscular back. It was full of incomprehensible code. She forced herself to march away without looking back. She was going to be realistic and mature and ignore him today. After one more tiny, hungry peek.

Behind the counter, her boss, Norma, looked over from the mushrooms she was grilling. “Here again, eh, Nelly? Can’t get enough of that strip steak sandwich, I see. Before I lose you in a romantic haze, hon, I need to ask a favor.”

Gack. Who knew her silly crush had been so obvious? Nell grabbed the bread knife and began slicing. “Ask away.”

“Easy does it, hon. That knife is sharp. Can’t help but notice that you never take your eyes off the fellow. Can’t blame you. If I were twenty-five years younger…hell, maybe even just fifteen years younger…” Her voice trailed off, eyes twinkling, waiting for Nell to soften, but Nell just pressed her lips together and cut more bread. “Looks like a workaholic, though,” Norma mused. “Always typing, never a glance at the cute waitress serving him. Take it from an expert. Leave that guy alone.”