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ese business dinners go, I don’t mention it. He’s feeling guilty enough without me piling on.
“It’s okay, Dane. I was just being overly cautious.”
“It’s not okay.” Hi jaw pulses with tension, any more and he’ll grind his teeth to powder. “Not even close. This is not how a man takes care of his family.”
Before I can address that ludicrous statement, the curtain opens and a middle-aged woman wearing scrubs walks in.
“Mr. Donovan?” Met with Dane’s silence, she smirks. “I didn’t think so. There are a couple of New York’s finest that need to have a word with you.”
“What’s this about?” I ask, suddenly worried.
Dane tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear and places a quick kiss on my lips. “I ran in here without checking in––” His expression gets intense. “I told them you’re my wife.”
We stare at each other as his words hang between us. Husband and wife? I don’t get the immediate urge to puke, run away, or scream foul. Interesting. For a while I stare at the words, try them on for size. They seem to fit.
“I …” Dane starts.
A cough interrupts, cutting off the rest of whatever he’s about to say. “It’s time to go, whoever you are.”
“He’s my husband.” The words come out without a hitch, my voice firm and commanding. I’m kind of proud of myself, proud enough to smile. Dane’s eyes spark with what could be construed as hope, or joy. Well, I would like to construe it as hope, or joy. It’s definitely something good, though.
“Was everything okay with my wife’s tests? Can she go home?” As he speaks, his undivided attention remains on me. A smile of shared understanding curves his sexy lips.
“I’ll check with the attending doctor.” At the edge of my vision, I can see the nurse’s suspicious gaze slide back and forth between us. “I suggest you come with me and talk to the police, sir.”
Dane gets up and I grab his hand. His eyes fall. At first he stares at our entwined fingers. Then they slide up to my face. He bends over and kisses me. Heartfelt…true. As brief as it is, those sentiments are there, speaking louder than words ever could.
“Be right back.”
It seems the entire vaunted New York City Police Department is a big fan of the Great Dane Wylder. After he left me, I got dressed, having been given the green light to go home by my OBGYN. In the meantime Dane explained the situation to the two young officers standing outside my room. Autographs were handed out, paraphernalia promised. By the time we were walking out of the hospital, half the nursing staff was lining up to stare at the man with his arm hanging around my shoulders.
I forget that Dane is a public figure. The whole idea of being involved with an honest-to-goodness celebrity is still a very foreign concept to me. One I like to pretend doesn’t exist. Truth be told, dwelling on it makes me nervous. The first time I’ve truly fallen in love and it has to be with a man that’s gorgeous, talented, wealthy, and famous? Basically, this is a worst-case scenario for me.
The next day, while I’m sitting at my desk at work, I turn on my computer and the search bar pops up. A thumbnail of trending news catches my sight. I click on it and freeze.
It’s Dane, in the suit he wore last night. He’s kissing a tall, blonde woman. Like I said, worst-case scenario. One I have good reason to fear it seems.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Stella
Tonight is the grand opening of the rec center. The foundation is throwing a big celebrity party for community leaders, the council members, and Dane’s NFL friends and teammates.
Leaning against the open doorway of the bathroom, the man of the hour watches me get dressed. His hazel eyes flood with undeniable appreciation.
It’s been ten days since the hospital incident and he hasn’t said a word about the blonde. I’m not going to chase him with a skillet. I will not do it. Or shout like a fishwife, even if at times I want to. And trust me I want to. I haven’t even told Delia lest I find a freshly dug grave in the garden and Dane missing. For once I’m not going to assume the worst. He deserves the benefit of the doubt.
Instead I channeled that energy into something good. I started making arrangements for the nonprofit organization I intend to run. After New Year, I’ll give Ira notice. Knowing his ability to read my mind, however, I wouldn’t be surprised if he already knows.
Sitting on the end of the bed, I slowly roll on a pair of black stockings.
“Lord Jesus, are those stockings?” Pushing off the doorframe, he stalks closer.
“Pantyhose are uncomfortable,” I tell him with a sly smile.
“I approve.”
A few more strides and he’s on me, taking my face in his hands and kissing me like a man sentenced to life. I expected the sex to cool, for him to put some distance between us. That did not happen. On the contrary, once the doctor said it was safe to resume relations he was on me with no less passion.
“If you don’t stop being so goddamn sexy, we’re gonna have a problem.” He pushes me back on the bed and settles between my thighs, only our underwear separating us. Well…that and the blonde…and his inability to express what he feels for me.
“Dane––” I say between the laughter. “We don’t have time.”
“We have a lot of lovemakin’ to make up for now that Pops is gone.” His voice fades as he maps a trail of kisses up the side of my neck, his hands sliding along my body, petting and squeezing all the right places.
Lovemaking? I don’t go there. Nope. I don’t go anywhere near it. Taking a good hold of his hair, I lift his head and search his bright eyes and sexy smile. Nothing on his face indicates that he realizes what he said. “Your father left ten days ago.”
“I hate being quiet.” Tell me something I don’t know. He starts sucking on my throat, nipping and kissing his way from my jaw to my ear. “When I shoot my load into you it’s like a sneak peek into heaven, and I wanna celebrate…thank my maker for makin’ you for me.”
“That’s…I don’t know what that is,” I remark, biting back laughter that will only provoke him to continue. Smiling, he looks down at me. There’s so much adoration in his eyes that the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Do you think it will ever end?”
The mood goes from fun to somber in less than zero seconds. Every muscle on Dane’s body stiffens. “What do you mean––end?” he asks, careful to keep his tone neutral.
“This, between us, all this chemistry…do you think it ends?”
“No, baby,” he immediately answers. “I’ve never felt this way before.” He examines my face, his focus super intense. And Dane intense is a sight to behold. “Have you?”
“No.” Not even close.
He smiles then. “You’re the best time I’ve ever had, Shorty.”
Sweet. He’s always been sweet. But those are not the words I was hoping for.
“Can I steal away my girlfriend for a moment?” Dane says to the rec center director, Mr. Donaldson, who was in the midst of explaining all the wonderful programs he has planned for the kids in the neighborhood.
The party went off without a hitch, the rec center beautifully decorated, the catering delicious. Close to twenty-five of his NFL buddies made it. He introduced me to each and every one. It’s moments like these that I realize how fundamentally different we are. I would rather sit in a corner and hear Mr. Donaldson’s plans down to the minutia while Dane thrives in the limelight. I can’t help but wonder if it spells doom for us.
Without bothering to wait for a reply, Dane drags me away. I give Mr. Donaldson an apologetic look and he smiles back in understanding.
“That was rude.”
“I haven’t had a moment alone with you since we got here.”
Here comes the eye roll. “We’re not here for alone time. Quite the opposite actually.”
As if he hasn’t heard a word, he continues to pull me along with purpose, a man on a mission as he guides me through a side door that leads outside. The second the doors
open, the cold hits me like a two-by-four. I wrap my arms around my waist. It’s the first week of December and the ground frozen, a thin shell of ice on everything. We reach a small garden that’s been prepped for landscaping when the ground thaws, a lonely stone bench its sole resident for now.
“Dane, it’s cold out here.” All I’m wearing is a black jersey dress. “I’m not exactly dressed for cavorting in these temperatures.”
Slipping off his suit jacket, he places it over my shoulders. I snuggle into the heat still clinging to it. I bury my nose under the fabric and take a deep breath of his scent as a tremor racks my body. I’m not sure if it’s caused by the cold or his strange behavior. It crosses my mind about a million times that he’s dumping me for the blonde. My pulse starts to thrum in my throat.
“What’s going on?” My hand automatically covers my swollen tummy, a new habit. One that’s become quite common as of late.
Taking my shoulders, he guides me to sit on the bench and sits next to me. “It’s almost Christmas,” he says absently. As if it’s an afterthought.
Christmas? Seriously? I’m about to have a nervous breakdown and he wants to shoot the shit about Christmas? All I can do is nod, my energy engaged in staying calm and breathing. Passing out is not an option right now.
“I have so much to be grateful for. Almost too much.” He tips his head back, his gaze drifting up at the clear night sky. “It humbles me, to be so blessed––” His throat works as he swallows. “Grateful…I’m grateful for everything God’s given me. But most of all, you.”
He turns to look at me then, his expression solemn, his gaze direct, no sign of guilt or shame. “I wanna take you on vacation and keep you so busy you don’t wanna come home. I want to hold your hand when our child comes into this world. I want you––” His jaw locks. He breathes deeply and he swallows. “I want you to hold mine when I’m old…would you do me the honor of being my wife?”
I don’t breathe. I can’t even blink. My mind can’t process what just happened and operate my body at the same time. When it starts working again, my entire vocabulary is reduced to one word. Marry. He wants to marry me.
