Page 98 of Fire

She glanced up at the receptionist and saw her busy on the computer, so she nervously pried open the lid. She caught her breath. There was a ring. A freakin’ beautiful ring. Princess-cut diamond on a platinum band. She didn’t know how many carats because, well, she really had no idea, but it was big. No, it was huge. Almost hesitantly, she plucked it from the box and slipped it on her ring finger. It fit perfectly. And it looked fabulous.

“Everything okay, miss?”

Gwen’s head popped up. “What?”

The receptionist was looking at her with concern. “You’re crying.”

“I am?” Her hand came up, and she wiped her cheek, wetness coated her palm. She was! She laughed. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

The woman smiled. “Here’s your key. Third floor, room three-o-five.”

“Don’t you need a credit card?”

Her eyes darted back to the computer. “One is already on file. Name, Blake Stone.” She looked back up, smiling.

Again, weird.

“Oh, okay. Thank you.”

As she reached for the keycard, and her ring flashed in the light, startling her. Going to have to get used to that, she thought, but she was internally doing cartwheels.

She pulled out her phone on the way to the elevator but had second thoughts and slipped it back into her pocket. She’d wait until she got to her room to try Blake again. Alone in the elevator, she held her hand out and admired her ring, catching her reflection in the shiny elevator doors. She had a huge grin on her face. Funny, she wasn’t tired anymore, either.

Fiddling with the keycard in the door slot, she had to pull it out and slide it back in three times before the light changed from red to green. She kicked the door open, holding it with her foot while she grabbed her suitcase. Then stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Blake, standing in the middle of the room.

They stood, staring at each other. His eyes flicked to her left hand, palm flat, fingers splayed, holding open the door, before landing back on her, only now, fire burned in their depths.

“What are you doing here? How did you get here before me?” And then, realizing she didn’t even care and wondering why in the hell she was still standing there, she dropped the suitcase, shrugged off her duffle and flew to him.

He met her halfway and scooped her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck, and then he was kissing her. Not a goodbye kiss filled with desperation and despair but one of greeting, filled with pleasure and delight.

When they came up for air, curiosity getting the best of her, she asked again, “What are you doing here?”

He walked them to the bed and sat down with her straddling his lap. His hands came up to cup her neck, his thumbs brushing along her jaw. “You didn’t really think I could stand to be away from you forthreewhole weeks, did you?”

She laughed, remembering all the times he’d told her, “It’s only for three weeks” and shook her head. “No wonder you’ve been so calm about me leaving while I’ve been a wreck. How long have you planned this?”

“Since you signed the contract.”

She laughed again, so full of joy, she couldn’t seem to stop. But then she thought of something that sobered her up fast. “What about the club?”

“I sold it.” But he didn’t look upset. The smile on his face was proof he was happy.

“What? Why?” She was shocked. He loved the club.

“Thought I’d keep with family tradition. Remember, Grandfather sold his club when he and Grams got married.” At that, he reached behind his neck and clasped her left wrist. “Which reminds me, I believe you owe me an answer.”

Blake kissed the knuckle above the new ring she wore, loving seeing it there. He raised his eyes. Gwen wore a smile that almost matched the happiness shining in her eyes. “Well?” He raised a brow when she took too long to answer.

A mischievous glint entered her eyes, and her smile fell, but he saw her lip twitch, betraying the seriousness she was trying to portray. “A lady shouldn’t be rushed.”

He forced a stern expression. “And a man shouldn’t be kept waiting.”

That made her lose it, and her head tipped back in laughter all over again.

“That was funny?” He tried—and most likely failed—to sound serious.

She righted her head, looking at him. “That was hilarious.”

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