“Are you anxious to marry me or something?” He kissed the base of my throat.
“When you do that, absolutely.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “That sounds like a proposal to me. I graciously accept.”
“Sneaky!”
“Je ne regrette rien.”
“Neither do I. And yes, I’m proposing to you. Benjamin Hayes, will you do me the honor of becoming my lawfully wedded husband?”
His face turned serious, and he pulled me in for a long, slow kiss. “There’s nothing I want more in the world. Well, that and your babies. If that’s something you want.”
“I think I knew I wanted to have kids with you the minute Bond handed me a pregnancy test, although I had to get past the shock. So, how about”—I kissed his neck—“we set a wedding date. Something small.”
“And something soon.”
I pulled off his T-shirt and kissed his chest. “Very soon,” I agreed. “And then we’ll figure out a schedule for having babies.”
“Agreed. But there is one more very, very important thing we need to discuss now.”
“Which is?”
He backed me up against the bedroom door and placed a hand on either side of my head, the way he’d held me against the car that day in the airport parking lot. My belly fluttered, and my lady bits clenched in anticipation of what was to come.
“I need you to answer a very important question.” He nibbled my neck, pressed the full length of his body against mine, and whispered in my ear. “Where are your blue stilettos?
