Page 84 of Love Game

“True,” she conceded.

“Take me as I am?”

“It is a pretty ring.”

Taking that as his cue, he released her hand and pried the ring from its velvet bed. The platinum setting gleamed under the fluorescent lighting. The diamond shone, but not as bright as the pleasure in Kate’s eyes. “It’s a simple yes or no question,” he nudged.

“Yes.”

Her long, graceful fingers shook as he slid the ring home, and a surge of pride pumped through his veins. He turned her hand over to press a kiss to the center of her palm, then gently curled her fingers in. “Good. Then it’s settled.”

His joints creaked as he rose to his feet, but every second of pain was worth it. Kate threw herself at him, winding her long limbs tight around him and burrowing into him as if she wanted to crawl into his skin. He smiled as he kissed her, wondering if she didn’t know she’d gotten under it the first time they met.

She kissed him hard but sweet. He tipped his head to part her lips, and she met him there, her tongue matching his stroke for stroke. God, he loved this dance they did. The tenderness tempering unapologetic need. The perfect meld of give and take. Power and surrender. Like football, life was a game of inches that made up yards, and yardage converted into points. Now that he knew he’d have her by his side, Danny had no doubt they’d find a way to win. As a team.

* * *

“Stop dragging your feet.” Kate took hold of his arm and started hauling him up the courthouse stairs.

“This is idiotic. We are not doing this now.”

“I asked you to marry me, you said yes, and I have a pretty, sparkly ring.” She gave his arm another yank, knowing damn well if he truly decided to dig in, she’d never be able to move him. “We have to do this now.”

He allowed her to pull him to the doors, then screeched to a halt. Gesturing to their reflection in the glass, he shook his head. “Look at us, Kate.”

She did as he asked. It must have been her fairy godmother’s day off, because she still wore the same yoga pants and “Nothing but Net” T-shirt she’d left the house in that morning. Danny was only marginally better in blue jeans and a polo shirt. They both looked haggard from the nearly sleepless night.

“I want to do this right.” He spoke low and soft in her ear. “Unlike some people, I’ve never been married before.”

The comment felt like a low blow, so she fell back on defense. “You should have told me you were a virgin that first night. I would have been more gentle with you.”

His lips curved, but she closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to see him smile and laugh her off. Not when she was fighting so damn hard to save him. Save them.

“You were gentle enough,” he assured. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter when he pressed two fingers to her jaw and turned her face toward his. “Kate, look at me.”

“Don’t smile,” she blurted before she could stop herself.

“What?”

“I’ll look at you, but don’t smile. You can’t smile. This isn’t a joke.”

“And here I thought you were trying to convince me this is the happiest day of my life.”

She chuckled. She couldn’t help herself. The man’s humor was darker than an eclipse. Rather than risk looking at him, she let her head fall forward. Her forehead came to rest on his broad shoulder. She had a hard time suppressing her own smile when he wrapped his arms tight around her.

“I want us to have a real wedding, with our friends and families there.” His voice was gruff, but his hand was gentle as he smoothed the ends of her hair against her back. “I don’t want to sneak off like we’ve done something wrong. We haven’t done anything wrong, Kate.”

“We got you fired.” Lifting her head, she searched his eyes. “It may not be wrong, but we can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s right. All you have to do is let me make an honest man out of you.”

“Ha-ha.”

“We can still have a wedding. I want one too. We can have it next week, next month, or next year, but if we want to have a snowball’s chance in hell of slipping through this loophole, we need to do this today. We can’t risk having the marriage license and termination papers dated the same day.”

“Well, there’s a compelling argument for love,” he grumbled.

“I love you.” Desperation took over, fraying the edges of her voice. “It may not work, but then again, it might. This is our half-court heave.”

“A Hail Mary,” he corrected.

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