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I groan. Why is he so good at everything?
“Elsa, I’m so sorry about our fight at Fashion Week. You were right; I was wrong. Let me make it up to you.”
Tanner gets down on one knee.
I shake my head. “No, no. Not here. What are you doing?”
He reaches into his back pocket.
“You keep your hands where I can see them, mister.”
He pulls out a black velvet box.
“Elsa Blakely, you are the sexiest woman alive, the queen of the catwalk, a perennial fashion ‘do.’ I would be honored if you would…”
“Get out!” I scream. “Everybody out!”
Chapter 12
Tanner
Well, I can’t let all these people think my grand gesture was a flop now, can I?
I turn and smile at the nervous-looking crowd. “She can’t wait to ravish me, right here on the carpet!”
The drum major smiles knowingly and cues the band. In seconds, the saxophone players are serenading us with a sultry tune.
The Rockettes lift their skirts just above the knee and shake their hips, nearly blinding us with the flash of their sequins. The crowd is clapping to the beat.
Even the puppies are howling along.
Elsa gestures for me to get up, but I stay put.
Finally, Elsa struts up to the drum major’s neck, grabs his whistle, and blows. “You heard me! Time to go! Move it! GO!”
Elsa’s employees scramble back to their desks. The musicians, dancers, and photographers crowd the door.
“Thanks again!” I call out to them. “Sorry you’re going to miss the real show.”
I stay on one knee, smiling and holding out that box as if I could pop the question at any moment.
When a few of the dancers stop to high-five me on their way out, I know everything has gone according to plan. As far as everyone else is concerned, our love story is the real deal. But I know it’s going to take more than a dog and pony show to get Elsa to see it that way.
The puppy handler approaches Elsa cautiously to collect the beagle. “Don’t worry,” she says quietly when she sees the look on Elsa’s face. “This little guy is on his way to his forever home. Mr. Sharpe paid the adoption fees for all these dogs in exchange for a quick visit.”
Elsa breathes a sigh of relief, and I bask in the glow of my good deed. This stunt of mine may have been a little over the top, but at least the puppies are getting something out of the deal.
When the performers are out the door and the employees have resumed their work, I rise to my feet and brush the dust off my knees.
Elsa watches me pocket her unopened gift. “So, what’s in the box?”
I shrug and let her imagination run wild: Is it her dream engagement ring, or is it a fake I bought just to show off for the cameras? Or is the box empty? Would I really be that cruel?
Elsa’s curiosity is killing her, I can tell. I’ve gone to great lengths to annoy her today, but this moment is my favorite so far.
She pouts. “You’re not even going to show it to me?”
“What’s the point? The photographers are gone.”
