by Joan Kilby
It was only a picnic. But after months in maternity clothes she figured she deserved to get a little girlie. It had been a while since she’d had a big occasion to dress up for—even if Darcy didn’t know it was a big occasion.
Oh, God, what if he rejected her proposal? There they’d be, halfway through their sandwiches and lemonade, and everything would turn awkward. Would they finish eating in silence or pack up and skedaddle? She shook her head. Idiot. Of course she would wait until after they ate to say anything.
“Your mother is a tad nervous,” she told Billy. “Nothing to be alarmed about.”
She laid her clothes on the bed then sat in the rocking chair by the window to nurse Billy. While he fed, she practiced the speech she’d written last night in which she convinced Darcy they should try again. At two pages, typewritten, it was hard to remember word for word so she’d also written out notes on index cards.
“I’ll go over them on the way to the picnic grounds,” she told Billy. “I know, he’s going to think I’m crazy, and it’ll be tricky not to let him see what’s on the cards. I’ll pretend I’m studying for an exam.”
The doorbell rang. “There he is.” She tucked the index cards in her purse and went to let Darcy in.
He smelled so yummy and citrusy with musky low notes that she gave him a peck on the cheek just to get a better sniff. “Mmm, you’ve been bathing in awesome sauce.”
His low laugh, a little self-conscious, rumbled in her ear. She handed Billy into his arms. “Sorry I’m not ready. I still have to get dressed.”
“You look great.”
She was wearing her oldest pair of shorts and a faded T-shirt. “Have you had your eyes checked lately? I hear that forty is the magic age when people start needing glasses.”
He rolled his defective eyes and she hurried to her bedroom. Nice. Be snarky about his age. That’ll get him hot for you. And she’d been doing so well for a moment with the kiss on the cheek and the compliments.
She put on the light summery skirt, a camisole and a sheer blouse in an aqua print that brought out the blue in her eyes. Added a touch of fragrance and some fine gold jewelry he’d given her one Christmas. Brushed her hair again. Breathe.
When she entered the living room Darcy was on the floor, playing with Billy. He stood and gazed at her so long she got nervous.
She touched a dangly earring set with teal-blue tourmaline. “I’m overdressed, aren’t I?”
He swallowed. “You look perfect. Absolutely beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Breathe, damn it. He looked pretty gorgeous himself in an indigo-blue cotton shirt and black knee-length shorts. “Shall we go?”
Emma slipped on flat sandals. Darcy carried Billy in his car seat. And for once the elevator cooperated by showing up quickly.
In the foyer of the apartment building, Emma started for the door to the parking garage. “We should take my car since I’ve got Billy’s seat.” She hadn’t thought about having to drive when she’d written her index cards.
“I bought a car seat of the same model yesterday and installed it in my truck so we can transport him in either vehicle.” Darcy pushed open the entry door for her to go through.
“Aren’t you full of surprises?” she said, moving past him.
“You haven’t seen anything yet.” He secured Billy in the truck cab. Then he turned to her with a bandanna in his hand. “And you’re not going to see anything else until we get where we’re going.”
“What? No way. I need to see.” She stepped back, hands out to ward him off as he advanced on her. “You can’t— Hey!”
He spun her by the shoulders and quickly tied the folded cloth over her eyes. “Resistance is futile.”
“This is kind of kinky.” She touched the cloth. But how was she going to study her index cards? “Or is this your answer to my alleged backseat driving?”
He opened the door and helped her inside and with her seat belt. She felt her handbag being placed in her lap. “I want you to sit back and relax. Enjoy the ride. It’ll take about half an hour to get where we’re going.”
How far could they travel in that length of time? Depending on direction it could be down the peninsula to Rosebud or toward Melbourne as far as Mordiallic. Or maybe he was taking her up to the Dandenong Mountains?
Darcy started the engine and pulled away from the curb. Emma tried to figure out where they were going by the speed and the direction they turned. She knew they got onto the freeway for a short time, but after they got off there were so many twists and turns she was completely boggled as to where they were. Darcy, of course, wouldn’t give her a single clue. She’d forgotten how maddeningly stubborn and immune to her probing he could be. There was no noise from the backseat. Billy must have fallen asleep.
Finally Darcy stopped the truck. “We’re here.”
“At last. Now I can take off this bandanna.”
“Not yet.” He pulled her hands away from the cloth and placed them in her lap. “Be patient. Sit there while I unload then I’ll come back for you.” He paused. “Promise you won’t peek?”
“I promise,” she lied. As soon as he was out of the vehicle she was peeking.
“I mean it, Em. I’m trying to create an effect. It’ll be spoiled if you look too soon.”
He had gone to a lot of trouble. And she had to admit, the suspense was exciting. This was part of what she loved about Darcy. She never knew what to expect, but whatever he planned was always entertaining.
“Okay, I won’t look.”
While he unloaded the truck—and it took at least ten minutes so he must have brought a lot of gear—she tried to mentally go over everything she wanted to say to him. How she’d always loved him. How much she needed him. The many ways he enhanced her life. The ways she hoped she could make him happy. In every category she’d prepared examples, of course.
Her door opened and he removed her seat belt. “You can come out now. But don’t take off the blindfold.”
His hand at her elbow, he guided her first over pavement then onto grass. “Watch your step. It’s a little bumpy. Easy...over to your right. Take off your sandals.”
She put a hand on his shoulder and slipped off her shoes. She could hear birds close by and in the distance, a lawn mower. She raised her face and smelled a sweet fragrance, jasmine or daphne, on the breeze. “Where are we?”
“You’ll see in a moment. Step onto the blanket. Sit down. Carefully...right down to the ground. There are pillows.”
She lowered herself to her knees, felt around and located a large cushion. He helped her lean against it.
“Ready? I’ll take the bandanna off now.”
After so long blindfolded, the sunlight made her eyes hurt. She scrunched them shut, then slowly opened them a crack. They were seated on a big blanket strewn with soft cushions in a meadow. A picnic basket sat to one side and a cooler. Billy was in his car seat, still asleep.
Emma gazed around. “Where are we?”
“Can you guess? You get points for each correct statement.”
On second thought, not a meadow and not a park, either. It wasn’t that big. A hedge bordered one side and a fence bordered the other side. A quiet residential street formed a third boundary. And down the sloping grass in front of them was a tangle of bush and then tall pine trees and eucalypts. It was an empty lot.
“Is there a creek down there?”
“Two points.” Darcy pulled a bottle of champagne out of the cooler and two flutes out of the picnic basket. “Five points if you can tell me the name of the creek and the town.”
“It looks like Summerside. But how could that be— Oh, you drove around in circles and doubled back. Very clever.” She’d hoped for someplace more picturesque and romantic to propose to him, but this was very pretty. “Are we on private land? Are we allowed to be here?”
He poured the sparkling wine and handed her a glass. “I have permission from the owner. And yes, this is Summerside. Two and a half points.”
&nb
sp; “You said five.”
“You have to name the creek.”
Four creeks ran through Summerside, two with multiple branches. She only knew of one that had such tall trees along its banks. “Earimil Creek?”
“Is that your answer or are you guessing?”
He was teasing her. Emma sipped her champagne, in no hurry to end the game. They had all afternoon, a bottle of bubbly and a basket full of food—which from here looked to contain all her favorite delicacies. He had gone to a lot of trouble for this picnic. Soon she would be asking him a question—one that could change their lives.
“It’s my answer.”
“Five points to the lady in the sexy blouse.”
“I don’t want points. I want a kiss.”
“Raising the stakes, are we?” Dark eyes gleaming, he leaned across two feet of blanket and kissed her. Only their lips touched. His mouth was firm and bold and tasted deliciously of contrasts—warm and slightly salty from the sun and the olives, cool and sweet from the champagne.
He left her breathless and wanting more. More kisses, more laughter, more tenderness. More time together. More certainty in their relationship. “What’s your next question?”
He spread perfectly ripe brie on a cracker and offered it to her. “Don’t you want to ask me anything?”
“Why are we here?”
“Ah, one of life’s age-old questions. I presume you’re speaking metaphysically—”
She threw a pillow at him. “You know what I mean. Why here and not in a park?”
His teasing smile faded, and his expression grew intent and serious. He might have been about to reply or he might have been going to put her off, but she would never know because Billy woke up and started crying.
“Good timing, old man.” Darcy unclipped him from his harness and pulled him out. “Does he need to be fed?”
“No, I fed and changed him before we left. He should be good for another hour at least. I think he’s starting to teethe.” She reached for her oversize handbag. “I have a teething ring in here somewhere.”
Darcy laid Billy on the blanket. “Is that better, mate? Were you folded up too long in that car seat?” He turned to Emma. “Isn’t he a bit young to be teething? I thought I read that teeth don’t come in until they’re about six months old.”
“That’s the average age but some start earlier.” She dragged out her wallet, hairbrush, keys, index cards. “You either have a phenomenal memory or you’ve bought your own baby books.”
“I went online to some baby sites.” Billy stopped crying and rolled over, reaching for the things Emma had taken out of her purse. “Hey, buddy, those are your mum’s cards.” Darcy tried to take them off him.
“I’ll get them.” Emma lunged for the cards. Too late. Billy clung to the cards and the elastic band that held them loosely together slipped off. They tumbled to the blanket. Billy picked one up and put the corner in his mouth. “Give that to me, sweetie.”
While she tugged the card out of his tight little fist Darcy gathered the rest together. “Don’t look at those,” Emma ordered desperately. “They’re just study cards for an exam.”
“What class is this for? ‘I know all your favorite meals and can cook them the way you like them.’”
Her cheeks flamed. “Stop, please, just stop.”
He glanced at Emma. “‘I love the way you sleep with your lips slightly parted? It makes me want to kiss you.’ Who does that? Are you seeing someone else?”
“No, you idiot. You sleep with your mouth open.” She was the idiot. Hearing her words aloud made them sound ridiculous. Snatching the cards out of his hand she shoved them back in her purse and gave the teething ring to Billy. She felt like such a fool.
“Emma.” Darcy’s voice was impossibly gentle. His hand touched her bare knee. “You are the most organized person I’ve ever known, but this is bizarre, even for you. Why did you write those cards?”
“Because I love you,” she said fiercely. Her eyes shimmered, but she forced herself to look at him. “I wanted to tell you all the many different ways I love you. I wanted to give you reasons to love me. I wanted to ask you to marry me—again. I didn’t want to forget a single thing I intended to say because if you said no then, I would always kick myself that I’d gone about it wrong, or hadn’t been persuasive enough, or hadn’t said the right thing.” She dropped her gaze, unable to bear the astonishment in his. “It was a dumb idea.”
“It’s incredibly sweet. And the answer is yes.”
“I beg your pardon?” She needed to hear it again, have it confirmed.
“Yes, I will marry you.” Darcy scooted across the blanket and wrapped her in his arms. He laughed, exulted, and pressed kisses over her face. “I love you, too. I never stopped.”
She grabbed his face and kissed him properly, long and slow and deep, until Billy’s kicking feet eased them apart. She picked the baby up and cuddled him.
Darcy kept his arm around her, his face close. “Now ask me again why we’re here.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. Why are we here?”
“I want to buy this block of land and build a house on it—for us. I’ve already put in an offer, subject to approval from you.” He tipped up her chin so he could look directly in her eyes. “I came here today to ask you to marry me. You beat me to it.”
“I’ve always wanted to live next to the creek.”
“I know. That’s why I chose this one.”
“But can we afford it? You’re renovating the pub.”
“We’ll manage. The quote Gary gave me is affordable. And I have a feeling the pub is going to be more popular than ever when the renovations are complete.” He searched her face. “So, should we buy this land and build ourselves a dream house?”
“Oh, Darcy. Yes! I love this spot.”
“That is the correct answer. Ten points to the woman who won my heart.”
“I don’t want points. I want...” She leaned up to whisper in his ear.
“We might get arrested if we did that in public.”
“We’ll wait till we get home.” Emma leaned back against his chest and looked out at her future backyard. Rainbow lorikeets flitted among the gum trees. Somewhere a kookaburra laughed. “It feels good to have dreams again.”
“And a family.” Darcy’s arms tightened around her. “Maybe this time— No, there’s no maybe about it. This time, we will survive whatever comes our way—together. I don’t ever want to lose you again.”
“Love will see us through,” Emma said softly, her fingers splayed across his hand, snug in the arm that wrapped around her and Billy.
Love wasn’t simple. The journey was full of ups and downs. But as long as she and Darcy were together they could handle any curveball life threw at them.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from The Spirit of Christmas by Liz Talley!
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Superromance.
You want more than just romance! Harlequin Superromance stories are filled with intense relationships, real-life drama and the kinds of unexpected events that change women’s lives—for the better—forever.
Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.
We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com
Subscribe to our newsletter for special offers, new releases, and more!
Harlequin.com/newsletters
CHAPTER ONE
MARY PAIGE GENTRY stepped into an icy puddle of water as she exited the taxi with not only one high-heeled shoe, but both of them.
“Darn, darn, darn!” she said, trying to turn back to the driver without stepping into the cold water again. The cabbie raised bushy eyebrows and she tossed him a glare. “I assume you didn’t see that puddle when you pulled up?”
He shrugged.
“Yeah, r
ight,” Mary Paige muttered, blowing out a breath that ruffled her bangs. “Just wait for me, okay?”
She didn’t hang around for his response because, after the day she’d had, something had to go in her favor. She slammed the door and leaped to the curb, managing to clear the puddle she’d previously waded through. Having the cab wait for her would cost a small fortune, but she was way late to her uncle’s infamous Christmas kickoff bash, thanks to her boss, Ivan the Terrible.
The frigid water seeped into the toes of her shoes as she walked toward the iron-barred glass door of the convenience store anchoring a corner in Fat City. Stupid, stupid! If she hadn’t let vanity rule, she’d be plodding around in her cute fleur-de-lis rubber boots with warm tootsies. But because the strappy high-heel, pseudo–Mary Janes had called her name that morning, she would risk frostbite for the remainder of the evening.
Flashing neon signs hung garishly on the front of the store, bright cousins to the various cigarette ads, and from somewhere to her left, music bled onto the street. The door to the convenience store swooshed open, and she moved aside to avoid a woman who burst out, clutching a paper bag containing a fifth of something potent. Her elbow caught Mary Paige’s arm, but the woman didn’t even acknowledge the offense. She merely growled something about skinny blonde bitches and waddled down the block.
“Really?” Mary Paige called after her, even as part of her relished the backhanded compliment since she’d spent the past two months doing Zumba and eating foam chips in an effort to fit into a size eight again. As she reached for the closing door handle, she heard a low moan to her right. Her hand paused in midair, hovering above the cold metal.
Pulling her jacket closer to her chin and nuzzling into the cashmere scarf her ex-boyfriend had given her last Christmas, Mary Paige peered into the darkness beyond the blinking lights lining the eaves. At first, she saw nothing in the shadows, but then spied movement.
She stepped toward the noise, her feet squishing in her wet shoes, her teeth starting to chatter. The light plink of sleet on her shoulders made her wonder if she was somewhere other than New Orleans. They rarely saw anything frozen—except daiquiris—so it had been quite the sensation when they’d gotten a blast of winter the day after Thanksgiving.
