But that wasn’t the only reason for his eagerness that afternoon.
Smiling, he reached inside his breast pocket and removed a small black box. Thumbing the lid open, he examined the four-carat princess-cut diamond ring nestled in velvet. He hoped it wasn’t too much. Lexi had never been flashy or materialistic. What moved her more than anything was the sentimentality in simple gestures, like the flowers he’d given her that day in Dijon. Or the romantic dinner he’d arranged to re-create their experience in Burgundy.
Yeah, he knew she wasn’t the kind of woman who’d appreciate expensive trinkets he threw her way just because he could afford to do so.
But, damn, he couldn’twaitto slide this beautiful ring onto her finger.
Assuming she says yes,an inner voice reminded him.
As the traffic light clicked to green, Quentin snapped the box closed and kissed it for good luck.
A few minutes later, he pulled up to the familiar two-story redbrick house and did a double take. There was a For Sale sign in the yard.
He frowned. When had Lexi decided to put her house on the market?
Maybe she’s ready to take the next step and move in with you.
Perfect, he thought.
But as he climbed out of the car and walked to the front door, he couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding. Because he knew Lexi wouldn’t have put her house up for sale without telling him first. Unless she had a specific reason for not telling him.
A reason he wouldn’t like.
When she answered the door, he took one look at her drawn face and knew something was wrong.
“Quentin.” She gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Welcome home.”
He stepped inside the house, swept her up into his arms and kissed her the way he’d been dying to all week. When she responded with equal hunger, he felt some of his misgivings dissolve.
Drawing back, he ran a hand over her soft hair and smiled into her eyes. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” she whispered, her arms looped tightly around his neck.
“That was the longest week of my damn life.”
“Mine too.”
He gave her another kiss, then set her back down on the floor and closed the door behind him. “We have so much to talk about.”
“I know.” Her voice was subdued. “We hardly spoke on the phone this week.”
“I know,” he agreed with a grimace. “Between your book-tour schedule and the fires I was putting out at the D.C. office, there just weren’t enough hours in the day. I want to hear all about your whirlwind tour. When do you leave for the West Coast?”
“Tomorrow.”
Quentin groaned. “So soon?”
“Afraid so.”
As they moved into the living room, Quentin claimed his usual spot at one end of the pin-striped sofa. Instead of sitting next to him, Lexi sat on the adjacent mahogany settee.
That set off another warning bell in his head.
He searched her face, noting the faint dark smudges beneath her eyes that indicated she’d been sleeping poorly. “Are you feeling all right?” he asked with gentle concern.
“I’m fine. Just…tired.”
Struck by a sudden suspicion—or hope—he stared intently at her. “Are you…pregnant?”
