Page 450 of Manhattan Bossholes

“You had sex,” he grumbled. “Sinead called with a picnic table emergency right after I finished going down on you.”

I ran my hands through his hair. “I’ll make it up to you tonight. We can do that thing you like.”

He laughed. “That doesn’t narrow it down. I like everything you do.”

I leaned in and rose up on my toes to gently nip at his ear. “I was thinking of that thing we did on your birthday.”

He froze. And then his eyes darkened, and he yanked me to him, kissing me in earnest.

At least until the shed door opened.

“Ooops,” Seamus said. “Sorry about that. Sinead wanted more firewood.” He grabbed two bundles of firewood. “The festival’s really great this year, isn’t it? That one vendor made your favorite cocktail, Olivia.”

“Seamus,” Declan said, his voice dark. “Get out of here. Or I am never giving you business advice again.”

Seamus beat a hasty retreat. He’d had a good year. His family’s business was on remarkably solid footing, and he’d done it without any of Mark’s predatory practices. With Sinead’s help, he’d become a good co-parent to Catie. He’d started wooing Sinead in earnest about a month ago, and Sinead was clearly enjoying it, though she hadn’t given in just yet.

But Seamus wasn’t about to risk getting on Declan’s bad side. Not again.

The door swung shut behind him.

Declan’s mouth lowered toward mine, his eyes hot with the kind of intent that made my stomach flutter.

I placed a hand to his chest. “He’s right. We should get back out there and say hi to people.”

“Or we could stay here. Lock the door,” Declan said. He toyed with the strap of my sundress. “See how quiet you can be while I make you come.”

My knees went week, but I mustered the strength to swat his hand away from my dress strap. “Stop that. Molly’s editing friend was going to try to make it out today. I can’t be screwing you in a shed while she’s out there looking for me.”

Our book had just been published, but it was already getting great buzz. Buzz I was only too happy to help along with my successful, sponsored, blog. Once Molly’s publishing friend arrived, we were planning to discuss future book ideas.

Declan gave a long-suffering sigh. But he let me drag him from the cool, dark shed and back out into the party.

Marie appeared and handed me a raspberry margarita from the bar. “Here you go, love. It’s too strong for me, but someone said you love them.”

“Oh. Um. Thank you so much. But I just drank one.” I set it down behind me.

When I turned back, Declan was looking at me in concern. “What are you talking about? You haven’t touched a drop of alcohol all day.”

Marie’s eyes caught mine and widened in a question.

I blushed. She beamed.

Declan checked my forehead, oblivious. “Are you feeling sick?”

“I’m fine,” I protested.

But Declan still looked concerned. “You’ve been out in the heat all day. Let me get some water.” He turned toward the refreshment table, but I caught his wrist and lead him aside, a bit deeper into the garden. This wasn’t how I’d planned on telling him, but I was so excited, and the moment just seemed right.

I couldn’t wait any longer to share the news.

“Declan, I’m pregnant,” I said, smiling so hard I felt like I was going to burst.

For a second he just stared. I couldn’t read the intense emotions battling across his face.

“Declan?” I asked, feeling a touch uncertain for the first time since I’d read the results on the pregnancy test.

Then slowly, deliberately, he went down on one knee. “Olivia St. James. Will you take me as your husband?”