Page 17 of Romanced By the Silver Fox

I am blushing and giggling like a kid. My smile feels a mile wide.

“She’s the best girl I know,” Grant answers on my behalf. “Genie is at the top of the nice list.”

“Well then, let’s see what we can do.”

Santa helps me on deck and takes me to the steering wheel. He gives me a short tour of the controls, then leaves me to steer. I guide the ship while he and Mrs. Claus wave to people on the shore. Grant is by my side, watching my face with the kind of open joy that made me fall for him all those years ago.

“Are you happy?” he whispers in my ear.

“This might be the best day of my life,” I answer. “How on earth did you make this happen?”

Grant shrugs. “I know someone who knows someone, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Grant, this is more than knowing someone. Arranging all this is a big deal.”

“You can thank Marin by accepting the job with FLB,” he suggests. “But it’s not about that for me. It’s worth anything to see that look in your eyes.”

I reach up and kiss him, trying to tell him with my body what I can’t say with words. After a while, Mrs. Claus clears her throat dramatically, and we break apart, laughing our faces off.

The Clauses drop us off a few miles down the river. We watch the parade for a while before taking a car back to the hotel. Grant won’t tell me what the next event is. He simply says “put on something gorgeous.” I decide to wear the outfit my family gave me a few days ago.

I’m just finishing my makeup and spraying on perfume when he arrives at my door. The second he sees me, his mouth falls open.

“Damn, woman.” His voice goes low and urgent. “You look like a dream come true.”

“Likewise,” I say, swallowing hard. It’s the honest truth. His silver hair is swept back from his face, emphasizing his cheekbones and the jawline that makes my knees weak. But it’s the way he wears his tuxedo that’s got me obsessing over how soon I can get it off of him. It’s black, of course, with a ribbed shawl collar and matching tie. I’m impressed when I catch a glimpse of a coordinating ribbed waistcoat beneath his jacket.

He is unquestionably the most stunning man I’ve ever seen. I’ve never been prouder to be by his side.

The evening is a whirlwind: a private concert at the Schnitz. Dinner at the Heathman. Afterward, Grant takes me over to Laurelhurst, and we take a romantic walk down Peacock Lane, the city’s most decorated Christmas street.

Somewhere between the carolers and the Christmas lights, the hot cocoa booth and the man holding my hand, two things hit me.

I have never been more content. I want more of this.

Not just for now, but forever. I want to be here in Portland. I want to take the job with FLB. I want Grant Davies in my life.

I just need him to show me that he wants to be with me, too.

When we reach the end of the lane, we stop beneath a spray of mistletoe. I point it out, and Grant obliges me with a kiss.

“Do you want to go back through the other side?” I ask.

“I have a better idea,” he replies. “Let’s head this way.”

Grant takes me up Southeast Stark and up 41stAvenue. We walk in silence, still holding hands. Just when I think it couldn’t get any more romantic, the tiniest flakes of snow begin to fall. I have to laugh: Even Mother Nature is on our side, making the night even more perfect.

We come to a stop in front of a gorgeous green colonial.

“Hold on a second,” Grant says. He kneels down to adjust his laces. I drape my wrap more securely around me and admire the house. On each stair, there are candles suspended in ice lanterns. Wide red ribbon threads through the banister, and poinsettias fill the planter boxes on both sides of the porch. Lighted garland drapes the doors, which is graced with a large evergreen wreath hanging from more of that stunning ribbon.

I sigh in admiration. It’s the house of my dreams. I’m glad I got to see it.

When I turn to Grant, my breath catches in my throat. He’s down on one knee, holding out a ring box. He pops it open. A platinum band, designed to look like ivy, with a teardrop shaped stone at its center, is nestled inside.

“Genie. My dearest love.” Grant’s voice is husky. “These past few days have been exquisite. I’m reminded over and over that letting you go was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I need you by my side. I want you in every way possible. As a business partner, as a friend, as the woman I come home to, that I make love to, that I will adore for the rest of my life.

“Please. Marry me.”

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