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She felt his level stare as he carefully answered. “Kate, finding out your name, learning you were a member of the infamous Tremaine family, had absolutely nothing to do with me staying away from you.” He sighed, shaking his head. “You want the truth? Here it is. I couldn’t handle the guilt. I really thought my father had used and abused your mother, and I wasn’t about to follow in his footsteps. In case you didn’t know it, I don’t have a great reputation as a stick-around kind of guy.”
There was no question of doubting him, the sincerity in his voice was matched by the look in his eyes.
“So, when you asked me to live with you…”
He cocked his head. “You were upset about that?”
She glanced at her fingers. “I just figured it was history repeating itself. Tremaines are good enough to live with…”
She almost expected him to react in anger, but instead he laughed, long and loud. “God, have we ever been at cross purposes.” Turning in his seat, he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her over the armrest, pulling her onto his lap. “I’m crazy about you, Kate. I want the whole nine yards. Marriage, kids, P.T.A. meetings.”
Marriage? Kids? She choked on a mouthful of air and had to hack into her fist. When she could breathe again, she said, “P.T.A. meetings?”
“We’ll go together, unless, of course, you’re busy peddling sex toys at your store.”
She couldn’t even laugh, still too amazed to see what she wanted was truly within her grasp. “You’re serious? You want all that?”
He brought her hands to his lips, kissing her palm. “I absolutely want all that.” He pulled her closer, until her head rested on his shoulder. “I figured you’d laugh in my face if I started talking about that kind of stuff, though. You, Miss Lusty Vibrating Fingertip, seemed to not only enjoy doing things backward, but you seem to want to make them as outrageous as possible. I kinda figured love and marriage stuff would turn you off…make you think I thought you were sweet or something.”
She sat up and punched his shoulder. “I am sweet, damn it.”
He gave her a hopeful smile. “Hopefully not too sweet for those slut-puppy boots.”
She lowered her lashes, giving him a coy look. “If you’re good. But in the meantime, get back to the L word you mentioned.”
“Lusty?”
Their laughter faded as Kate stared intently into his fine green eyes. “Love. Did you mean to use that particular word?”
He reached up and slipped his hand into her hair, caressing her gently as he tugged her mouth toward his. “Yeah. I meant to use that particular word. I love you like crazy, Kate.”
Just before her lips touched his, she whispered, “I love you, too, Jack.”
Epilogue
Six Months Later
LYING IN THE UNFAMILIAR king-size bed in their hotel suite, Jack listened to Kate get up and go into the bathroom. He’d thought she was asleep. Heaven knew, she should be after their strenuous evening. But maybe she was still too keyed up to sleep, too happy, excited and relieved that they’d actually made it. As he was.
Jack waited for her to come back, then smiled in the darkness as he heard the sound of the faucet turning and the gush of water in the tub.
A late-night shower.
What a way to start off married life.
He didn’t get up to join her right away, content instead to listen to her from the bed. He waited for the pulling of the plastic curtain, the clink of the rings on the metal rod. The gurgle turning to a hiss as the shower jets came on. Kate’s light, off-key humming.
Remembering lying in bed at the house in Pleasantville, listening to her all those months ago, he had to laugh. They’d come a long way. Physically and emotionally.
Unable to hold out any longer, he got out of bed, almost tripping on Kate’s white sundress and shoes, which he’d tossed to the floor earlier that evening in his rush to make her his wife in every sense of the word.
Her wedding dress. And the flip-flops she’d worn for the small beachside ceremony.
They’d had a perfect sunset wedding with two bartenders at the couples-only resort serving as official witnesses. A beach vendor had made Kate her bouquet and a housemaid had caught it. A steel drum player had riffed in the background, competing with the sound of the surf and the low, lyrical voice of the island minister who’d married them.
