added, going back to her breasts.
“Well, you wouldn’t be alone.”
“I want to spend my honeymoon here next week,” he explained further, moving from her left breast to her right. “You know, I’m sure each of your nipples tastes slightly different, but I can never work out why.”
“What?” she shrieked.
“Your breasts. I think they taste different.”
She smacked his shoulder. “Not that part, the other part.”
He raised his head, and the expression in his eyes caused her heart to stutter. “They have a chaplain on call, and the wedding chapel has some openings. We can get married today.”
“Why would you want to marry me?” she asked, trying hard not to sound like she was about to bawl her eyes out.
“Because I love you.”
“But I’m completely hopeless. I’m terrible with money, and I get chucked out of flats, and make fools of people at the office, I’m not smart and smooth like Jennifer Talbot.”
“You’re funny, and sexy, and wildly creative, and I love you.”
“Oh.” She sniffed. She did not cry over men, she reminded herself. Okay, she could be catching a cold. One sniff did not a sob make.
“What about me?”
“You’re funny too, kind of. And definitely sexy. But I don’t know about the creative part. I think not.” She paused for a minute. “Bloody brilliant with a calculator, though.”
“That’s why we’re perfect for each other. You make my life crazy and exciting, and I can probably straighten out your bank account and keep you on track.”
Maybe it wasn’t romantic, but the idea of someone who could take care of all that stuff she was so hopeless about was definitely appealing. He was right about her, too. He could be plenty fun and creative with her around. Without her, he could end up a stick in the mud. She was almost willing to marry him just to get a crack at livening up his wardrobe.
“So will you marry me?”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, honey, I’ve never been so sure of anything.”
She sniffed again and blinked a few times. “I am not wearing one of those over-the-top white wedding gowns they sell in the clothes shop.” There was a wonderful sky-blue silk, though, cocktail length and backless, she’d had her eye on. That would be perfect.
“You can wear anything you want if you’ll marry me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“How about you love me?” he asked with a gleam of challenge in his eye and as much love as any woman could ask for.
“How about I do,” she said and rolled on top of him, naked and eager to get on with a whole life together.
The End
“Well, you wouldn’t be alone.”
“I want to spend my honeymoon here next week,” he explained further, moving from her left breast to her right. “You know, I’m sure each of your nipples tastes slightly different, but I can never work out why.”
“What?” she shrieked.
“Your breasts. I think they taste different.”
She smacked his shoulder. “Not that part, the other part.”
He raised his head, and the expression in his eyes caused her heart to stutter. “They have a chaplain on call, and the wedding chapel has some openings. We can get married today.”
“Why would you want to marry me?” she asked, trying hard not to sound like she was about to bawl her eyes out.
“Because I love you.”
“But I’m completely hopeless. I’m terrible with money, and I get chucked out of flats, and make fools of people at the office, I’m not smart and smooth like Jennifer Talbot.”
“You’re funny, and sexy, and wildly creative, and I love you.”
“Oh.” She sniffed. She did not cry over men, she reminded herself. Okay, she could be catching a cold. One sniff did not a sob make.
“What about me?”
“You’re funny too, kind of. And definitely sexy. But I don’t know about the creative part. I think not.” She paused for a minute. “Bloody brilliant with a calculator, though.”
“That’s why we’re perfect for each other. You make my life crazy and exciting, and I can probably straighten out your bank account and keep you on track.”
Maybe it wasn’t romantic, but the idea of someone who could take care of all that stuff she was so hopeless about was definitely appealing. He was right about her, too. He could be plenty fun and creative with her around. Without her, he could end up a stick in the mud. She was almost willing to marry him just to get a crack at livening up his wardrobe.
“So will you marry me?”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, honey, I’ve never been so sure of anything.”
She sniffed again and blinked a few times. “I am not wearing one of those over-the-top white wedding gowns they sell in the clothes shop.” There was a wonderful sky-blue silk, though, cocktail length and backless, she’d had her eye on. That would be perfect.
“You can wear anything you want if you’ll marry me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“How about you love me?” he asked with a gleam of challenge in his eye and as much love as any woman could ask for.
“How about I do,” she said and rolled on top of him, naked and eager to get on with a whole life together.
The End
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