Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,104
times—he’d completely lost it.
He gave himself a mental head slap. Okay, so he was a guy. Sometimes, the wrong part of his anatomy did the thinking. He’d make it up to her, here and now. He sat up and dragged his coat from the bottom of the bed. Fumbled in the pocket for the ring box. Once more, the atmosphere wasn’t exactly moonlight and roses, but his proposal was way overdue. And a hundred percent from the heart.
He returned to her side. “Bailey—” The words evaporated in his mouth.
She was curled on her side, sound asleep. Again.
Bailey floated awake. Outside, the storm still sputtered, scattering sleet over the slate-gray morning. Con’s attentive lovemaking had sizzled into her system, until everything inside her sparkled. She stretched and sighed. Every cell in her body was sated. She turned her head, and his mahogany gaze ensnared hers.
He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hi, there, Sleeping Beauty.”
Her stomach clenched in wonder and appreciation. Draped in her mauve silk sheets, his hard, tanned body looked even more gorgeous, more potently male than she’d imagined. “Hi yourself, Officer Sexy.”
“How do you feel?”
She smiled. “Glorious.” She lowered her brows. “Don’t you ever sleep?”
“Not when I can watch you, instead.” His penetrating brown eyes studied her, his expression far more alert than the occasion warranted. What was he up to now?
He tweaked a curl. “How does a nice hot bath for two sound?”
Hmm. So much for conspiracy theories. Maybe she was imagining the undercurrent of intensity. “Heavenly.”
“Be right back.”
He strolled into the bathroom naked, at home in his body. She watched him, admiring his lean, athletic build, bronzed by firelight. She’d learned to appreciate exactly how athletic during the past—she glanced at the clock—three and a half hours. Con made love the way he did everything else. With thorough, utter commitment and contagious joie de vivre. He’d coaxed her dragon out to play, and it would never again retreat back into the cage. Not that she wanted it to. Now that she and the dragon understood one another, she liked the bolder aspects of her personality.
Water splashed into the tub, and then Con returned. He scooped her off the bed before she could rise. She giggled. “Hey! I can walk.”
He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “We’re a full-service establishment.”
Whoo baby, he wasn’t kidding. She didn’t have the nerve to inventory the scattered condom wrappers as he carried her into the bathroom.
The pitcher of roses sat on the shelf behind the tub, along with replenished lit candles. Another pitcher of orange juice and two fluted champagne glasses completed the romantic ensemble. Con must have arranged them while she was sleeping. He left the door open so they had a view of the fireplace, and lowered her into the hot water, brimming with rose-scented bubbles.
He climbed in and sat facing her, their limbs entwined. She slid her hand along his calf, the sinewy muscles slick and soapy. “You’ll smell all girly. Like me.” She rather liked the primitive notion of branding him with her scent.
He inhaled, and passion glittered in his dark eyes. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”
“The guys at the station will razz you up the wazoo.”
“I don’t intend on going back…” She narrowed her eyes, and he held up a dripping hand. “For a while. I’m taking some time off.”
She cocked her head. “Right. To recover from your injuries before you accept the team leader position.”
“No.” He lifted a lone rosebud that was lying beside the tub and handed it to her. “To ensure you believe in the realm of mysteries.”
Puzzled, she accepted the flower. “After the past twenty-four hours, I’m a faithful believer.” Watching Con, who was again regarding her with that odd, smoldering intensity, she automatically lifted the blossom to her nose.
Anticipation stamped his handsome features. He looked like he was waiting for something. “What, Con? What is it?”
He merely grinned. Still bewildered, she lowered her gaze to the rose. A sparkling jewel—something that looked suspiciously like a diamond ring—was tucked inside the folded pink petals.
Her breath jammed in her throat. With trembling fingers, she withdrew an exquisite engagement ring from the rose.
“Bailey.” Con’s expression sobered. He clasped her left hand in both of his. “I love you with all my heart. With all my soul. With every breath I take. Will you marry me?”
Her heart leaped with joy. Tears filled her eyes and she flung her arms around his neck, sending bubbles flying. “Yes!”
He was shaking now, too. Holding her on his lap, he slid the ring onto the third finger of her left hand. A perfect fit. Just like the two of them.
Overflowing with happiness, she smiled through her tears. “You do realize I will never be able to tell our children and grandchildren exactly how you proposed?”
His grin bounced back. “We’ll lie.”
She feigned mock outrage. “Why, Conall Patrick O’Rourke. You want me to fib to our daughters and granddaughters?”
Laughing, he brushed bubbles off her nose. “Aphrodite, my goddess, rising from the foamy sea. You were right. You are like water.”
She paused. She hadn’t exactly been flattering herself with that description. Hesitantly she asked, “I am?”
“You bet. Water is one of the most powerful forces in nature. Ask anyone who has ever experienced a tsunami. But it can also quench thirst. Grow living things.” He scooped up a handful of hot water and poured it over her shoulders. “Water cleanses, refreshes and restores.”
She smiled into his dancing eyes, reflecting the golden firelight. Her joy was boundless. Her happiness complete. “I was also right about you. You are fire. Fire that warms, that banishes darkness with energy and light. Fire that sustains life.”
He kissed her, long and deep, then drew back. Misty white vapor curled around them, enveloping them in a cozy, rose-scented cocoon. He stroked a wet finger down her cheek. “And together, they make…”
Grinning at each other, they spoke as one.
“Steam!”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7112-2
MIDNIGHT HERO
Copyright © 2005 by Diana Ball
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