Meet Me at the Chapel (16 page)

“Hi...” Casey opened her eyes and looked for Brock in the room.

“Hey.” Brock was sitting in a chair near the window. He stood up the minute he heard her voice and came to the side of the bed.

He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “How do you feel?”

“A little better, I think.” Casey winced when she rolled onto her back. Her entire abdomen was still so sore from the surgery. “Are you packed?”

It was time for Brock to go back to Montana. Hannah would be returning home and he had to start thinking about getting her ready to go back to school. It was hard to see him go, but depending on her body, she could be healing for another month. She wanted him to get back to his life.

Brock sat down on the bed next to her, took her hand and kissed it. “I wish I could take you back to Montana with me.”

“I know.” Casey gave him a tired smile. “But goodness knows I have plenty of people around here to take care of me, and Hannah only has you.”

“You know I'm comin' back for you, now, don't you? I'm comin' back to get you, bring you home and marry you.”

“Well...I guess you're going to have to get around to asking me,” she teased him.

“You just sit over there and look as pretty as you are and let me worry about the details,” Brock teased her back. “And, once we're married, we're going to start working on having those babies I promised you.”

Casey looked into the face of the man she had grown to love so deeply. There was a promise in his eyes that she knew he intended to keep. Maybe they wouldn't be able to conceive and bring a baby to term with a surrogate—but at least they had a chance.

“Brock...” She threaded her fingers into his fingers. “Thank you for getting me through the worst of this.”

He kissed her hand again and then pressed it between his two large palms. “You're probably going to get sick of me saying this...but I love you, Casey. You're my best friend and I'm always going to be here for you. You and Hannah...that's my life, right there... Hannah and you.”

* * *

Brock returned to Montana and took care of his daughter; he got her back into her routine, which was a challenge, and he got her back into school, which was yet another challenge. But the biggest challenge for the rancher was being without his woman. Yes, they talked on the phone, they saw each other through video chat, but he couldn't kiss her, or touch her, or hold her hand. He couldn't feel her warmth next to him in bed—he couldn't make love to her—there were too many miles between them. Too many miles.

“Brock!” Casey's sister waved her hand so he would see that she was already there.

He slid into the booth and ordered a coffee from the waitress.

“I appreciate you meeting me,” Brock said to Taylor.

“I was surprised to hear from you. You said you needed my advice?”

He did need advice. He'd been trying to convince Casey to put in notice at her job and come back to Montana to be with him and Hannah. But no matter what angle he tried, she was resisting. He didn't doubt that she loved him—yet she always found a reason why they should postpone their reunion. For him, the time for them to get back to the business of being a family of three had long since passed. Taylor knew Casey better than anyone, and that included him for now. It wouldn't always be that way.

“You know I love Casey.”

Taylor nodded. “I do know that.”

“I want her here with me, Taylor. I want us to get married. But, no matter what I say, she's always got a reason why we've got to wait.”

“She's concerned about Hannah...”

“I know she is, and God knows I love her for it...but Hannah misses her. And Casey's talking about working her contract and waiting until the summer to come out. Hannah will be in California with her mother then and we could be right back where we started—except now it's a year later.”

“But what do you want from me?”

“Tell me how to get through to your sister, Taylor. Because I've run out of ideas and I want her with us. And so does Hannah.”

Taylor studied him for a moment and then she said, “The only thing I can tell you is that Casey can really dig her heels in when she thinks she's right. If you want to convince her that you're ready and Hannah's ready, then you need to get your butt on a plane, go to Chicago and do some convincing in person.”

Chapter Sixteen

C
asey Brand stepped off the
elevator into the reception area of the Signature Room. Situated ninety-five
stories above ground level on Michigan Avenue in downtown Chicago, the Signature
Room restaurant had the best views in Chicago and it was one of Casey's all-time
favorite places to dine. No matter how many times she watched the sunset over
the downtown skyline of her hometown city, it never lost its appeal.

Tonight was a special night—she had just received a clean bill
of health earlier in the week from her gynecological oncologist and her parents
were taking her out to eat to celebrate. She hadn't dressed up in a pretty dress
in such a long time, so she gave herself permission to break out her
Bloomingdale's credit card. Several hours of shopping later, she emerged with a
fabulous cocktail dress that made her legs look longer than they were, her waist
smaller than it really was and gave the illusion of an hourglass shape. Of
course, shoes and a cute evening clutch to match were absolute necessities.

After working up a sweat at Bloomingdale's, Casey met her mom
at her mom's favorite spa for a day of beauty. Her mom treated her to a
deep-tissue massage, a manicure-pedicure, a facial, hair and makeup. The whole
deal. By the end of her shopping excursion and spa day, Casey felt reenergized
and ready to slip on her sassy cocktail dress and strappy, fabulous heels, and
meet her parents at the Signature Room.

“Reservations under Angus or Vivian Brand,” Casey said to the
maître d'.

The gentleman located their reservation. “Right this way.”

“Thank you.”

Casey followed the man to one of the tables with a window view.
She had asked that her father make an early evening reservation so she could see
the sun set—sitting at a table at the top of the John Hancock Center was like
having a window with a view of the whole world.

The gentleman stopped next to a table set for two and pulled
out a chair for her.

“I'm sorry—we need a table for three.”

“I apologize, ma'am—let me check into that for you. Please have
a seat and I'll be right back.”

Casey sat down and enjoyed the view while she waited. Out of
the corner of her eye, she saw a man walking her way—she turned her head toward
him.

“Brock...?”

The man walking toward her was Brock. Her ranch foreman was
dressed to the nines in a tailored black suit and a soft gray shirt with a
beautifully matched tie. He was carrying a single red rose in his hand and he
looked so tall and handsome and in control as he walked her way.

The look on Casey's face when she first spotted him in a place
where she least expected to see him was worth all of the planning and
preparation for this surprise dinner. He'd enlisted the help of Casey's
family—he wouldn't have been able to pull this off as well, or as smoothly, if
they hadn't agreed to be complicit.

Casey stood up and met him halfway—Brock hugged her tightly,
not caring about the stares or the curious eyes. He only cared about holding the
woman he loved in his arms again. She tilted her head back, her eyes shining
with happiness and surprise—she kissed him lightly on the lips and then
immediately wiped her plum-colored lipstick off his lips.

“This is for you.” He handed her the rose.

“It's beautiful. Thank you.”

Perhaps it was a cliché to love red roses, but they were her
favorite flower. And Brock must have picked the biggest, reddest, most scented
specimen he could find because it was one of the prettiest, most fragrant red
roses she had ever received.

Brock held out her chair for her and then joined her at the
table.

She immediately reached for his hand; there had been a small
part of him that had worried about her reaction. Had she really been stalling
their reunion because of Hannah—or was she using his daughter, consciously or
unconsciously, as an excuse? But the love and acceptance he saw in her eyes
scrubbed away his doubt. Casey loved him. It was there on her pretty, freckled
face for anyone to see.

“I can't believe you're here.” She leaned toward him.

“I couldn't wait any longer to see you.”

She was wearing her long red hair down tonight, just as he had
imagined it would be, and the green material of her dress only enhanced the
loveliness of her wide green eyes.

“I've missed you.” Casey put her other hand on top of their
clasped hands. “I must think of you a hundred times a day.”

Their waiter stopped by their table with water, took their
drink orders and brought them the menus.

Casey didn't open her menu right away. “How's Hannah?”

“She's having a good year. She has a message for you.”

Brock handed Casey his phone; she pushed the “play” icon on the
video and smiled as Hannah's round face and wild brown curls came to life.

“Hi, Casey...it's Hannah. Hey—when are you coming back? I hope
you like what's on the menu!”

Casey handed the phone back to Brock.

“She has the cutest face! I swear it's the truth.”

Brock slipped the phone into his pocket. “She misses you.”

Casey felt a twinge of sadness—she missed Hannah almost as much
as she missed Brock. It wasn't this way before her summer break, but there were
as many people in Montana to miss now as there were in Chicago—her aunt and
uncle, her sister and niece, her cousins.

“I miss her.”

“You don't have to miss her.” Brock looked directly into her
eyes. “You can see her every day whenever you want.”

They had had this discussion so many different times in so many
different ways—but the facts, as far as she was concerned, hadn't changed. On
her end, she was under contract for one more year with her school and her kids
needed her. But whenever she would bring this up to Brock, he would say,
I need you. Hannah needs you.

On Brock's end, Casey felt strongly that Hannah needed time to
adjust to her parents' divorce. She needed time and they needed to give it to
her. Brock agreed with her completely, but they also
disagreed
completely
about the timeline.

Brock must have seen her furrow her brow. “We have plenty of
time to talk later. Right now, the only thing I want to do is enjoy a great meal
and enjoy this gorgeous view.”

“It is an amazing view, isn't it? You can see for miles.”

Brock smiled at her. “I meant you.”

Casey felt herself flush with pleasure. Brock always made her
feel like the most beautiful woman in the room—he never so much as looked at
another woman when they were together. He genuinely only had eyes for her.

“What looks good to you?” Brock looked at his menu.

Casey didn't pick up her menu.

“Aren't you going to look at your menu?” he asked her with an
expectant expression on his face.

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “I already know what I want. I
have this menu memorized.”

“They may have something new on the menu—something you may want
to try.”

“Nope. I've been thinking about the Scottish salmon all day.
It's in-
credible
.”

“Look at the appetizers...you may want something to start.”

“Lobster bisque.” She nodded. “Every time.”

Brock had stopped looking at his menu; he was frowning at her
in thought.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

After a second of thinking, Brock picked up her menu and handed
it to her. “Please look at the menu.”

“Why do you want me to look at it so badly?” She laughed.

“Don't you remember what Hannah said to you in her
message?”

Casey had to think back to the video, but then it hit
her—Hannah had said that she hoped she liked what was on the menu.

With understanding dawning in her eyes, Casey gave him a
suspicious look before she looked curiously at the menu. In the middle of the
menu, a new dish had been added:

Meet Me at the Chapel for the Rest of My Life.

Marry Me, Casey.

Casey stared at those words printed on her favorite menu,
blinking her eyes rapidly to stop tears from dropping into her lashes.

She looked up from the menu and Brock was no longer in his
chair. He was kneeling beside her, in the now-crowded restaurant, holding an
open ring box in the palm of his hand.

Casey's knees started to shake from the adrenaline being pumped
all over her body by her rapidly beating heart. She had known that one day this
proposal would come, but Brock had been so good at hiding his plans to fly into
Chicago and surprise her, that there was no way she could have anticipated that
the proposal would happen tonight.

Brock took her hand in his. “Casey Brand. If you'll let me, I
want to spend every day of the rest of my life showing you how much I love you.
Will you marry me?”

Casey didn't need to think about it—she already knew what she
wanted to do. “Yes. I'll marry you, Brock.”

Brock must not have heard her, because he asked her, “Was that
a yes?”

Casey laughed and brushed some wayward tears from her cheeks.
“Yes!”

Brock took the antique-inspired brilliant-cut diamond ring set
in filigreed platinum from the box. Everyone within earshot or sight line of the
table started to clap and cheer as he slipped the ring onto her left hand.

“I love you.” She put her hands on either side of his face and
kissed him.

“I love you more.”

* * *

Brock had reserved a suite at a downtown hotel, so their
engagement night was full of incredible views of downtown Chicago—first at the
Signature Room and now at a suite at the Hyatt Regency. Brock had lit candles in
the room so they could leave the curtains open and enjoy the twinkling of the
city lights all around them.

Brock walked up behind her carrying a glass of champagne. “What
are you doing?”

She made a pleasurable noise when her fiancé brushed her hair
to the side to kiss the back of her neck.

“I'm sending everyone a picture of us at the restaurant after
we got engaged.”

Brock took her phone and handed her the glass of champagne.
“That can wait.”

She laughed easily. “Okay—you're right.”

They toasted each other and drank the champagne, and then with
the red and green and white lights of the city as their landscape, Brock wrapped
his arms around her from behind and breathed in the scent of her perfume.

“I've missed this,” he murmured into her neck.

She put her hands over his hands and leaned her head back to
rest on his shoulder. “So have I.”

Brock moved her hair over her shoulder so he could unzip the
zipper. As he inched the zipper downward, he kissed her skin as it was
exposed.

“Are you ready to try?” he asked.

She knew what he was asking—was she ready to try to make love
for the first time after her surgery? The doctor had cleared her for sex and her
stitches had dissolved. The changes on the inside of her body scared her, but
she did want to try. She missed being connected to Brock in that most intimate
of ways.

Brock slipped Casey's cocktail dress off her shoulders and it
fell in a whisper of fabric to the plush carpet at her feet. She stepped out of
the dress, standing now in her bra, panties and her strappy new shoes.

Casey turned in his arms; his hands felt hot on her bare skin
as he kissed her lips and neck and the rounded tops of her breasts.

“You're so beautiful to me, Casey. So beautiful.”

Casey ran her finger through his hair as he rested his head for
a moment on her chest. When he lifted his head, she smiled a playful smile; she
took him by the tie and led him over to the bed.

“You look very sexy in a suit, cowboy.” She pushed him gently
in the direction of the bed.

“You think so?”

Casey walked behind him and pulled his suit jacket off his
shoulders. She ran her hand over his backside and gave it a little smack before
she circled back around to his front side.

“Nice.” Brock winked at her when she slapped him playfully on
the backside. “Foreplay.”

Casey gave him a little smile and tugged the tie knot loose.
Brock let her have control for a couple of minutes, watching with admiring eyes
while she untucked his shirt, unbuckled his belt and started to slowly unbutton
his shirt one button at a time.

Brock grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her against his
body. As she laughed at his impatience, the ranch foremen reached behind her and
popped open her bra. He pushed the flimsy material out of his way so he could
take her breast into his mouth.

She held on to his shoulders and rested her forehead on the top
of his head. The feel of his warm mouth on her breast made her catch her
breath.

Brock had a devilish glint in his eyes when he lifted his head.
He spun her around, cupped her breast with his hand and then slipped his fingers
into her panties.

“Hmm,” he murmured when his fingers found her. “Someone missed
me, too.”

Casey dropped her head back and moaned again. Brock knew how to
make her body hum in the most sensual ways. She reached behind her and put her
hand over the hard bulge in his half-unzipped pants.

Brock made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. He
quickly divested her of her panties—the only things she had on now were jewelry
and her high heels.

Her fiancé stripped out of his clothes without fanfare; he'd
lost some weight while they were apart. The ranch foreman—tall and burly and 100
percent male—was a thing of beauty as far as she was concerned.

“Do you want to take your shoes off?” Brock asked her.