by Cat Johnson
“As soon as I get the office set up and furnished, I'll be good for awhile.”
“Jesus. I forgot about furniture. With your taste, I can just imagine how much that's going to cost.”
Zane laughed. Stressing Jon out could be so fun. But he decided to let him off the hook before he got high blood pressure.
“I'll be good. Promise. So, you want to run the ad for the secretary, or should I?” Zane asked.
“I'll do it.”
Zane grinned. He knew his control freak partner would jump right on that task.
“Perfect. Thanks.” The last thing Zane had wanted to do was the work it would take to set up an ad for a secretary.
That's the kind of work his needed a secretary to do, hence the conundrum.
“Okay. Let me go.” Unable to resist one parting shot, Zane added, “I have to meet with my interior designer at the auction house. I'm hoping to land the Picasso for the new office.”
“Fuck you.”
Zane smiled. “Bye, Jon.” He disconnected the call before Jon could curse at him some more.
Two duties from his to do list done.
Visit with his mother. Check.
Get Jon to agree to a secretary and run the ad. Check.
That left only one more thing—to ask Missy's father for her hand in marriage. That he had to do in person.
Zane scrolled through the contacts again and found the number for the senator's office, hoping the man had time in his schedule to meet with him tomorrow. The sooner the better.
CHAPTER 16
She’d chickened out last night—Zane had been in such a good mood when he’d gotten home after his meeting she hadn’t wanted to ruin it—but tonight Missy was going to break the news to him about Amelia’s wedding party.
Therefore tonight required something more than the cookie recipe printed on the back of the chocolate chip bag.
Sure, it had worked out pretty well last time. Fueled with chocolate, Zane was even more enthusiastic than usual. But that night's baking had been a last minute decision. A spur of the moment whim that she never thought would pan out when she’d stopped at the store and grabbed the ingredients listed on that bag of tiny drop-shaped chocolate miracles.
But since today was Saturday, she was home and Zane was already out, off busy doing things. That meant she had the entire day to research recipes, shop for what she'd need and then get to baking.
Today she had a goal—make Zane so happy he wouldn’t flip out about being in her cousin's wedding party.
She probably wouldn't be getting the post-dessert loving like that other night, but if she could avoid his bad mood and a rant, that would be more than good enough.
Her laptop was her best friend that morning. The perfect instrument to travel the world of confections and search for the one best suited to woo her man. She could do the research all from the comfort of her own home, while in pajamas and drinking a cup of coffee.
Technology was a wonderful thing.
So was the search bar on her browser that magically delivered to her laptop screen so many sites featuring beautiful food that the next time she came up for air, she found it was hours later and she'd bookmarked dozens of potential tempting delicacies.
No wonder her cousin baked daily. The inspiration was seemingly endless and boundlessly tempting.
Missy found her mouth watering as she refilled her coffee mug and wished the laptop could magically deliver the actual baked goods to her fingers as quickly and easily as it did the recipes.
For now, she made do with a leftover chocolate chip cookie. She nibbled as she read over the recipes.
One particularly delectable-looking treat caught her eye.
“Chocolate Lava Cake. Wow.” Missy's mouth was watering just looking at the picture.
She clicked through to the cooking blog, afraid the recipe was going to require a degree in culinary arts and an expertise—and equipment—she didn't posses.
The blog popped up and she read the name listed on the header aloud, “Cookie Dough and Oven Mitt. Cute name.”
Apparently she was talking to herself now too. She'd have to worry about that new development later.
For now she was too intrigued to discover if she should even attempt tackling this impressive dessert.
She'd had molten chocolate cake out at a restaurant, served with a dollop of fresh whipped cream and a strawberry. She knew it was hot and chocolaty and decadent.
It definitely could not be as easy to make as the cookies, but reading over the list of ingredients it didn't look all that difficult either.
It required a cupcake or muffin tin. She had one of those. That was a good sign. She read the ingredient list.
Butter, semi-sweet chocolate chips, heavy cream, eggs, sugar, flour, cocoa powder.
That wasn't too bad at all. She even had the chocolate chips since she'd bought two bags for her first baking endeavor, just in case she managed to mess up the initial batch and needed a spare.
She moved on to the instructions, worried complications in the process might balance out the seemingly simple ingredients.
It said it would take almost an hour and a half to make but she had the time.
There were a lot more steps to the process than the cookies required, but none of them looked all that complicated.
Feeling confident, Missy's determination kicked in. She could handle it. She was smart.
She had degrees in fine arts and business. That had to arm her with some skills that would transfer into the kitchen. She hoped so anyway as she put pen to paper and began her list for the grocery store.
As she'd jotted down the first three ingredients she'd need to buy at the store the cell rang.
Zane's picture appeared on the display.
Missy picked up the phone and swiped the screen to answer the call. “Hey, baby.”
“Hello, my darling, love of my life.”
She raised her eyebrows. He certainly was in a sweet mood. And he hadn't even gotten a whiff of her chocolate cakes yet.
“You're in a good mood.”
“I am.” There was a smile in his voice. “I spent some time at the new office space. I dropped off some boxes and the filing cabinet and now I'm heading to the gym.”
She didn't know the reason for his good mood—moving boxes and working out didn't seem like the ideal Saturday to her—but she wasn't about to question it.
Though she did have one question for him. “Do you have an idea when you might be home tonight? I was trying to plan dinner.” And dessert . . .
“I just want to get in a workout. After that I'm meeting with your father quick, then I'll be home. I don't plan on being late. Promise.”
She let out a most likely less than lady-like snort. “I've heard that before.”
“Yes, you have. But since I'll be with your father I figure if it starts to get late I can just tell him I have to get home to his daughter and he'll understand.”
“Good point. And if you are running late, I can call him and lay on the guilt.”
“Perfect. So it's a plan then. See you later. I love you.” The timbre of his voice dipped low as he delivered those sweet words, melting her to the core even after all these years.
“I love you too. Bye.” She disconnected the call and went back to her list with new vigor and a racing pulse.
If he was this happy now, wait until he got a mouthful of melty hot chocolate cake. And while she was at the store, she'd buy extra whipped cream, just in case they needed it for later.
CHAPTER 17
Zane arrived at his gym early for the meeting and got in a good hard workout and a shower before heading to the bar.
Since the gym's bar served protein shakes and smoothies as well as alcoholic beverages, it was often the site for members' meetings, both business and personal.
Today, he'd be handling some personal business—meeting Missy's father to ask for her hand in marriage.
The enormity of it had his hands, usually a
s steady as a surgeon’s, trembling.
He'd faced terrorists with less trepidation. Of course, then he'd been armed to the teeth with the weapons of his choice. Weapons that felt comfortable and familiar in his hands.
Now all he had was the small platinum band bearing a diamond.
The ring was tiny, but as he waited for Missy's father, Zane felt it in its velvet pouch in his pants pocket as if it were a hulking piece of lead, weighing down his every step.
It was ridiculous to be nervous. He knew the senator was in favor of them getting married. The conversation at the house last time he was there proved that.
Maybe it was that this step made it feel real. It was one step closer to them being married.
Why should that be frightening? He loved Missy. He wanted to be with her and only her for the rest of his life. But in a life where he'd made a success of pretty much everything he'd tried, marriage was an unknown.
A big black hole full of mystery.
What if it changed their relationship? What if marriage was the one thing at which he failed?
“Zane.” The senator's voice behind him broke into his internal torture and doubt.
He turned to face the man. “Senator, thanks for meeting me. I appreciate you taking the time on a Saturday.”
“Anything for you, Zane. You know that.” The older man slid onto a barstool.
“I do know. Thank you. You've always been there for me. You've been like a father to me.” In fact, this man was more of a father to Zane than his own father ever had been. That thought caused his throat to tighten. He cleared it and went on. “And now I'm hoping to make that official.”
Zane pulled the bag out of his pocket and upended it into his palm. He watched the senator's gaze drop to focus on the ring.
“This belonged to my grandmother and my mother after her. I'm hoping Missy will consent to wear it . . . as my wife. I'd like your blessing.”
The older man's nostrils flared as he drew in a ragged breath and nodded. “Yes. Of course you have my blessing. I'd like nothing more than for you to be my son by marriage.” He reached out and pulled Zane into a hug.
“Thank you, sir.”
The senator laughed. “Thank you. This is going to make both of the women in my life very happy.”
“I know. And it's long overdue.”
He shrugged. “Eh. It took you some time to get here, but I had faith. I knew you'd work it out for yourself.”
The bar attendant finished with the customer he'd been serving and approached them. “What can I get for you?”
Zane glanced at his future father-in-law. “Missy is making dinner for us, but I have time for something quick if you'd like.”
He smiled. “I'd be happy with a coffee to-go. That way we can both get home early for dinner. It'll be a nice change.”
“So true.” Zane laughed. He looked back to the attendant. “Two coffees to-go, please. Put it on my account.”
“Thanks.” The senator nodded to Zane.
Zane waived away the thanks. “Thank you for meeting me. And for keeping it short. Your daughter will appreciate it.”
“I know she will.” The senator accepted his coffee, taking off the lid to add a packet of artificial sweetener from the holder on the bar.
Zane quickly signed the chit for the coffees and then added cream and sugar to his own cup before giving it a quick stir and snapping the lid back on.
He grabbed his gym bag filled with his workout gear, slung the long strap over his left shoulder and turned to the senator. “Ready?”
“Sure am,” the senator nodded. “I'll walk out with you. Did you drive?”
“Actually, I left my car at the office and walked here.” Zane laughed at the man's look of surprise. He added, “It's not that far.”
Senator Greenwood lifted a brow. “If you say so. I have my car here so if you'd like a ride, I'd be happy to drop you off at your car or the apartment. Wherever you'd like.”
He was pretty eager to get home to Missy. That ring was starting to feel heavy in his pocket again. “I'll happily accept that offer. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” The senator led the way across the carpeted space and toward the gym’s glass-walled entrance.
A crack cut through the air, followed by three more in rapid succession.
The unmistakable sound of gunfire had Zane's head whipping around.
Through the lobby's sweeping glass windows he saw the scene unfold.
The pedestrians on the sidewalk ducked and scattered, screaming as a shooter swung the assault rifle in an arc while firing in short bursts, until the weapon was pointed right at the gym's front window directly at him and Missy’s father.
“Who's shooting off fireworks—” The senator didn't have time to finish his question as Zane dove, throwing his body between the shooter and the senator.
As he was airborne, Zane felt the concussion of the hit. Then the searing blaze of pain in his left side started to register, right after he landed on top of the senator.
From his position on the floor where his body still covered the older man beneath him, Zane identified the sound of answering pistol fire and realized the semi-automatic weapon had gone silent.
He heard snippets of frantic conversation. The shooter was down. The DC police were already on the scene.
Only then did he roll off Missy's father.
Lying flat on his back, Zane pressed his hand hard over the painful spot and knew for sure the warm wet liquid slowly saturating his shirt and oozing between his fingers wasn't the spilled coffee.
It was surreal as, eerily calm, he assessed the situation. He was losing a lot of blood. The bullet must have hit an artery. He needed to apply more pressure but was having trouble finding the strength.
A small group of people began to press close around him.
Things started to seem distant. He heard the senator yelling for someone to call 9-1-1. He heard sirens—an ambulance on the way impressively fast. Though actually, he couldn't be sure how much time had passed.
He closed his eyes, deciding to rest for a bit until it got there.
“Zane. Zane!”
He opened them again to see the senator's face was close to his but his words sounded far away. There was a stranger there too. A man kneeling and pressing on his wound.
“I'm . . . okay,” Zane managed to say, before the darkness started to close in around his narrowing vision until it all went dark.
CHAPTER 18
The cell vibrated on the kitchen counter. Missy read the text from Zane and smiled.
On my way. Home soon. Love you.
Perfect timing.
The deep rich chocolate mixture had been whisked to perfection and poured into the muffin tin. Now, it chilled in the fridge where it would remain until tonight when it was time for dessert.
She'd have to shoot the woman who wrote the food blog a note and thank her. It really was perfect a perfect recipe.
Missy had done all the work in advance during the day. So when Zane got home and they'd eaten dinner, she could pop the tin into the oven and they'd enjoy the aroma of lava cakes baking followed by the decadent pleasure of eating hot melting chocolate adorned with fresh cold whipped cream.
The gym wasn’t far, so Missy grabbed a dishtowel and dried the last of the baking paraphernalia she’d just washed.
Once it was all put away in the proper cabinets and drawers she looked around the apartment.
The dining room table was set for dinner. The take-out tins from the restaurant where she'd ordered dinner were staying warm in the oven.
All she needed was Zane to get home.
Ooo. And candles. Everything looked better by candlelight.
Missy reached into the kitchen drawer for the box of matches just as her cell phone rang.
She smiled when she saw Zane's name and photo on the display.
He could be calling to say he’d gotten waylaid and was running late, but she was in such a good mood today, riding
the high she got from her baking accomplishment, she chose to look on the bright side and assume the best.
“Hello.” She practically sang the word into the phone. “You almost home?”
“Melissa. This is your father.”
“Dad? Hi.” She laughed at the unexpected sound of her father's voice on Zane's cell phone. “Did you keep Zane late and now he's making you explain it to me so he doesn't get blamed?”
“No. Melissa, please listen to me.”
“Okay.” Her optimism quickly faded. Something wasn't right. “Dad, what's wrong? Tell me.”
Her heart thundered as she waited for him to answer.
“I'm at the hospital.”
“Oh my God. What's happened? Are you all right?” Did her father have some sort of cardiac episode or something? But then he wouldn’t be calling. A new and horrible theory hit her. “Is it Mom?”
“I'm fine. Mom’s fine. It's Zane.”
What could have happened at the gym? Did he hurt himself lifting weights or something?
“What about Zane?” she asked, confused.
“He's in surgery.”
“Surgery? Why? What happened?”
“Melissa, Zane's been shot.”
The news stole her breath. “W-what?” Her single whispered word was barely audible.
She grabbed for the edge of the counter as the chocolate batter she'd licked off the spatula before washing it twisted in her stomach and threatened to come back up.
How could he have been shot? He wasn't on an assignment. He’d gone to the gym. He was with her father.
“One of my interns was at the gym. He asked what he could do to help so I told him to pick you up and bring you here.” Her father’s words took a moment to register.
When they did she said, “No. I can get there on my own.”
It would be quicker. She needed to get there now. She couldn't wait around for some staffer to come get her.
She realized she didn’t know where she was going. “Which hospital?”
“George Washington. But Missy, please, wait for Marcus. You shouldn't be driving right now.”
“Then I'll call an Uber.”
“For the love of God, Melissa, just sit tight. He'll be there in a minute to get you. I promise. I can’t worry about you too. I have enough on my conscience with what happened to Zane.” Her father's voice cracked as he pleaded with her.
