His Sister's Wedding (26 page)

Luke held the door open, surprise in his face. "I was coming back to help you clean
up," he started, looking almost embarrassed.

Lillie stood in front of his door, the scene so reminiscent of her middle-of-the-night
rejection it seemed like
deja
vu
.

And yet everything was different.

Without a word, she threw herself into his arms and kissed him. Their lips met in
a heated reunion. A kiss that tasted still of desperation, of near losses. Lillie
reveled in the strength of his arms around her, the thundering of his heart against
her.

Breaking free long enough to swing the door closed, Luke buried his face in the curve
of her neck, his breath warm against her skin, his arms holding her tight against
him.

"I want you to understand," she said unsteadily, "that I don't give a damn about the
sky writing."

Luke straightened, searching her face. "You don't."

"No, I don't. I've been confused all this time," Lillie said. "Love is more about
actions than words. What you did--rescuing my melting cake instead of going to your
appointment--it means more than any words you could ever say."

"Who told you?" he asked, his face filled with a tenderness and intensity she'd never
seen.

"Your mother," Lillie told him. "At least she hinted at it enough so I figured out
what happened."

"What I said about not believing in love?" he murmured against her cheek. "Well, I'm
not very good at hearts and poetry, but I'm going to try. I need you. More than I
ever thought possible."

"I don't give a damn about what you've heard about Angie. I never loved anyone till
you. It didn't hit me until after you turned my proposal down flat, that this thing
between us--wanting you, wanting to make you happy and feeling crappy when you're
mad at me--it is love."

Luke set her away from him, reaching into his back pocket before sinking down on one
knee before her. In his hand, winked a diamond ring in a tiny velvet box. "I love
you, Lillie. Will you marry me?"

"Yes," she whispered, tears blurring her eyes as she reached down, pulling him up
for a clinging kiss.

His warmth surrounded her, held her suspended in its grip like a drug. She raised
her mouth for his kiss and welcomed the stroke of his skin against hers.

Belonging seeped into her every pore. She needed him with the urgency of requited
love, needed the feel of his hands on her body. Needed everything he offered.

He wasn't a perfect man any more than she was a perfect woman. But they were perfect
for each other, fitting together like two halves of a split soul. She knew without
a doubt he would love her always.