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As always the passion ignited between them instantly. But before she could get completely carried away, Ruby struggled back and held him at arm’s length.
‘Not so fast, Westmore. If that’s your idea of a proposal, it’s pathetic.’
He chuckled, hauling her up to seat her on the countertop and step between her thighs. ‘I guess I’m going to have to work on it,’ he murmured, a wicked glint in his eyes. ‘But the good news is,’ he said, sliding his palms under her dress and making her thighs quiver. ‘Even if we hit the jackpot tonight, I still have a few months to practice.’
‘I’ve got a better idea,’ she said, sending him a saucy grin as she leaned close, tasting her own chocolate cupcakes and desire on his breath. ‘Why don’t I save you the trouble?’ Running her palms over broad shoulders, she gazed deep into his emerald eyes. ‘Callum Westmore, will you marry me and give me your babies?’
Lifting her in his arms, his hands caressing her bottom as she wrapped her legs round his waist, he swung her round in a circle, kissed her full on the lips, and then laughed.
‘Damn it, woman. I thought you’d never ask.’
As it turned out, it took them three months to hit the jackpot, by which time Cal had already got Ruby’s signature on their marriage certificate. So the following Spring, when the proud parents celebrated the birth of Max Ryan Westmore with a cupcake and champagne picnic on Hampstead Heath, everyone was happy. Except Ruby, who—despite the addition of another six pounds that she would also have to lose at a later date—was ecstatic.
