Bidding on Her Boss(30)

After what seemed like an eternity, he cleared his throat. "Come in," he said.

Still without speaking, she walked in, and he closed the door behind  her. Such simple actions, but weighted with so much meaning.  Expectation. Hope.

The apartment was empty of furniture, but it was beautiful-huge, filled  with light, and with great views of the park through floor-to-ceiling  windows. But as soon as Dylan was in front of her again, she couldn't  look at the room. Or speak.

"Hi," he said eventually, his voice raspy.

"Hi," she whispered back.

Being this close again, it seemed natural, necessary even, to reach out  and touch him...but she didn't have that privilege anymore. He'd  offered it to her and she'd declined it. She'd left, just as he'd  accused her of doing.

She dropped her gaze to the floor. "I came to see Jenna."

"I know." But he didn't make any move to summon Jenna or do anything  else. The tension in the room was thick enough to press down on her,  make her want to run. But she wouldn't leave this time, not when she had  this chance to be near him, if even for a few minutes.

She took a breath, steeled herself and looked at him again. "How are you?"

He lifted one shoulder and then let it drop. "As well as can be expected. You?"

"Good," she said, but her voice cracked, so she added, "I'm good." Her  hands trembled with the intensity of seeing him and not touching him,  not being able to speak freely. Of being alone with him. "Is Jenna  here?"

"No," he said simply.

Suddenly the strangeness of the situation hit her. Seeing Dylan again  had fried her brain, so she hadn't put two and two together right away.  "Whose apartment is this?"

"Yours." His expression didn't change, giving nothing away.

She took a step back. "What do you mean?"

"I've had a contract for this place drawn up in your name-" he gestured  to some paperwork on the kitchen counter through an archway "-but if  you'd rather have a different apartment, we can tear this contract up  and keep looking."

"I already have a place to live," she said warily.

"It's a present. Although," he said, casting a quick glance around, "if you wanted, this place is big enough for both of us."

"Both of us?" she repeated, not daring to believe he meant what she thought he was saying.

He nodded, his beautiful green eyes not sparkling now-they were too  somber. "If you'll have me. Or you can have it for yourself if you  choose not to invite me back into your life. No strings attached. A  parting gift. Completely your choice."

"My choice?" She circled her throat with a hand. He really wanted her back?

"Or if you don't like the city," he said with a casual shrug, despite  his entire body being tense, "we could move farther out, and you can  commute for your job. Whatever you want, I'll make it work."

She paused as the pieces of what he was saying clicked together. "Hang on. You're willing to move to New York?"

"In an instant," he said without hesitation. "If that's what it takes."

It was so unexpected, she couldn't get her head around it. "What would you do here? Your company is on the West Coast."

He rubbed his fingers across his forehead. "I've been thinking that I  could open some Hawke's Blooms stores on the East Coast. It makes  business sense."                       
       
           



       

She checked his expression more closely and realized he was sincere.  "That's quite a change in your role-moving away from managing the  existing stores to starting small again."

"We can employ people to oversee the existing stores to free me up to  start the new ones. I've realized that's what I love doing-the buzz and  excitement of starting something new. You gave me that by pushing me to  think about my own dreams." He reached out and cradled the side of her  face in his palm. "Have I thanked you for that?"

She leaned into his palm and laid her hand over his, pressing in,  making the contact more solid. "You just offered me an apartment, Dylan.  I don't think you need to do anything else."

He took a small step closer. He was so close, she could feel his body  heat. Her lungs struggled to find enough air. She released his hand from  her cheek, and he let it fall to his side.

"Loving you means I like to do things for you."

"You know," she said looking up at him from under her lashes, "all of  this is a big risk for you, given you don't even know if I love you  back."

One corner of his mouth turned up in a cocky grin. "Are you going to deny it?"

She was immediately sorry she'd teased. She sucked in her bottom lip  between her teeth, trying to think of the best thing to say. She  couldn't lie, but it didn't feel like the right time to tell him that  she loved him for the first time. It should be special.

His grin stretched wide. "No need to say it. I already know you love me, despite your unwillingness to admit it."

"You always were confident." She wanted to chuckle, but a thick ball of  emotion had lodged in her throat and she was worried that if she tried  to laugh, she'd cry instead.

He took her hands and held them between their bodies. "You can keep  leaving, Faith, but as long as you love me, I'll keep following, even if  I have to open stores in every damn state."

His words were the last straw-she burst into tears, and Dylan drew her  against his body. Everyone in her life before had found a loophole to  get rid of her. By leaving, she'd given Dylan a huge loophole-and he  simply went around it to follow her. Jenna was right-he was the most  steadfast man she was ever likely to meet. He was a man she could trust  to stand by his word.

She pulled back so she could see his eyes, still hiccupping as the  tears pressed in on her. In his gaze, she saw his love, his commitment,  and she knew she could finally completely trust that he really wanted to  be with her and would stay for the long haul.

"I love you, Dylan Hawke," she said, her heart full to bursting.

He lifted her off her feet and spun her around. "I can't tell you how glad I am to hear you say that."

"Hey," she said on a surprised laugh, "I thought you said you already knew."

He gently set her down and tucked her hair behind her ears. "I did, but it's still nice to hear it said aloud."

"I'll be sure to say it often, then." Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

He leaned in and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck,  pulling him closer. Weeks of not seeing him, not touching him, not  kissing him, had built into a need that she was finally free to let  loose.

When he pulled back, his breathing was heavy, but he was smiling. "Do you still have the ring I left on your hall stand in LA?"

She reached down to grab her purse where she'd dropped it, and then dug  around before producing the precious little velvet box. "I've had it  with me every day."

She passed it to him with an unsteady hand. When he'd left it in her  apartment, she'd closed the box and hadn't opened it again, so she'd had  only the one fleeting glance at the ring from across the room when he'd  shown it to her in anger. She might have carried it with her ever  since, but she hadn't given in and peeked inside. Technically it was  still Dylan's ring, and she'd known she should give it back, but she  hadn't been able to bring herself to do it.

He took the box from her, opened it and retrieved the purple diamond ring.

"More than anything in the world," he said, his voice low, "I want to  be your husband and you to be my wife. Faith Crawford, will you marry  me?"

"I want that so badly." She swiped at the tears still rolling freely down her cheeks. "Yes, I'll marry you."

He slid the ring onto her finger and then kissed her slowly,  reverently. As he pulled away, he whispered against her mouth, "I think  this is the start of our biggest adventure yet."