Dare She Kiss & Tell? (16 page)

“I can,” he fired off in a low voice. He shifted closer, towering over her, his tone softening. “Give me a second chance to prove it.”

She still hadn’t heard a good enough reason. “Why should I?” she repeated.

His words tumbled out. “Because I let my fear push you away,” he said gruffly. Face frustrated, he raked a hand through his hair and looked across the crowded terrace. The pause felt like forever, but when he finally turned back, his expression was frank. Raw.

The last barrier was gone.

“I knew you loved me,” he said, his words rough, heavy with the truth. “But I didn’t trust the feeling and I was too scared to believe you. I don’t deserve another chance. But I’m asking anyway,” he said. “Because I’m tired of being unhappy and alone. All because I’m a gutless coward.”

As if taking a moment to collect himself, he dropped his gaze to her bare shoulder and brushed her hair back, leaving a skitter of goosebumps. His hand settled between her
shoulder blades, cupping her skin as if it planned to stay. He lifted his eyes to hers, and the brutal honesty stole what little composure she had left.

“And I think fear is driving your decisions now,” he said.

Her mind balked at the idea and she hiked her chin, forcing the tears away with a watery sniff. “I am
not
scared.”

The words sounded hollow even to her own ears.

Several seconds ticked by, and though his gaze was intense there was a touch of humor mixed with a hint of desperation. His voice, however, was pure daring conviction. “Then marrying me shouldn’t be a problem.”

As his warm palm cradled her back, Carly’s heart thumped loudly in her chest, reinforcing the message that he could have called her a coward too, but hadn’t. Or that he
could
have insisted he was right, which he was.

Despite everything, she sent him a suspicious look. “Are you
daring
me to marry you?”

“The woman I love never walks away from a challenge.”

Her lips twisted into a self-directed frustrated frown. “Damn it,” she said in a low tone. “I hate that you’re right.”

The happy sounds of chatter filled the air as his eyes continued to scan hers in a question, stripping her to the emotional bone. Until he said, “So, Carly Wolfe, which would you rather have?” Despite the words, in spite of the teasing light in his eyes, his tone was serious. “A life with me, learning how to do love right, or an endless succession of singing break-up telegrams?”

The question—and the skin-on-skin touch on her back—made breathing difficult. Which wasn’t so good for formulating complicated responses. Fortunately the answer was simple. “You,” she finally said. “I choose you.”

Relief, joy and fire flashed in his eyes, and with a lightning-fast movement, Hunter hauled her against him. Her
body collided with his and she sighed, her heart melting as she curled into his embrace.

His chest was hard. Protective.

The hand on her back was warm. And gentle.

Sandwiched between the perfect combination of unyielding strength and soothing comfort, she inhaled his familiar woodsy scent. The surge of happiness overwhelmed her and she buried her face against him, his soft jacket absorbing the embarrassing wet tracks on her cheek.

After a minute, Hunter said, “Just promise me something.”

She slid her arms around his waist, blinked back the remaining tears and looked up at him. “Anything.”

He glanced at the two coffin bars surrounded by guests dressed in black, their feet obscured by the mist from the fog machines. “No Elvis at the wedding,” he said. “And no Goth-themed receptions.”

Finally allowing herself to trust the joy, she let a smile creep up her face. “Can I ask the winner of the Pink Flamingo drag queen pageant to officiate?”

Hunter’s eyes briefly flickered wider—but to his credit he said nothing.

She lifted an eyebrow. “Now who’s afraid?”

“Good point,” he said, his brow creased in humor, his fingers caressing her skin.

“So, tell me …” Her mojo firmly back in place, she flashed him her most charming smile and tipped her head curiously. “What kind of songs does The Hitchinator offer when I accept your proposal?”

A secretive smile spread across his face, and the light in his slate-blue eyes grew warmer. “I’ll resend the message so you can hit ‘Yes’ and find out.”

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

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First published in Great Britain 2012
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited,
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

© Aimee Carson 2012

ISBN: 978-1-408-97416-2