Christmas Male(71)

D.C. gripped the package in his pocket and cleared his throat. “One of us has to take the lead. And there’s something I want to say.”

When she nodded, her expression reminded D.C. a bit of a deer trapped in the headlights. Behind him, he heard a cart being pushed down the hall. He could have picked a better place, a better time. Frustration rolled through him. He hadn’t been able to pick and choose anything where Fiona was concerned.

“Things between us have happened fast,” he said. “So I was thinking maybe you’d like to slow things down, do something…traditional?”

“Traditional? Like what?”

It was more than nerves he saw in her eyes now. Was it panic? Or laughter?

Before his tongue could tie itself up again, he said, “I could give you more romance.”

Her brows shot up. “More romance? You’ve already taken me dancing and on a winter picnic. You’ve cooked a meal for me, and we’ve had date talk. What else do you have in mind?”

An image filled his mind. And because he wanted nothing more than to grab her and kiss her, D.C. fisted his free hand at his side. “I know you like to see the end of the road before you start down it.”

Fiona lifted her chin. “And you like to improvise. Why don’t I take the lead?”

He nodded. “Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

Fiona swallowed hard and continued to study him. A tall male who’d invaded her whole life. An understanding man who saw things in her that she was just discovering. There was no way to figure out the odds. No way to see the end of the road. All she could rely on was instinct.

And after all, hadn’t it been instinct that kept her believing in Amanda Hemmings’s innocence? Hadn’t it been instinct or something very close that had brought her to the Rubinov exhibit in the first place? No matter the risk, she had to go with instinct now.

Stepping forward, she held out her hand, and D.C. took it in his. “I know that I told you I only wanted something temporary. But I’ve changed my mind.”

When he said nothing, she lifted her chin. “A woman has a right to do that.”

“Tell me what you want, Fiona. Spell it out.”

She drew in a deep breath. “I want to share your clean slate and help you write on it.”

For a moment, a moment she thoroughly enjoyed, he simply stared at her. Then her words hit him, and dropping his cane, he swept her up in his arms and twirled her around. And around.

Her head was still spinning when he set her down and kissed her soundly. From the inside the hospital room came a muffled cheer. Neither of them paid it any heed.

“For once, we’re on the same page, Lieutenant.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small box and flipped it open. “However, I’m going to give you one more chance to opt for something traditional.”

Fiona stared at the blue diamond.

Then he dropped to one knee. “I love you, Fiona Gallagher. And I want you to write on that clean slate with me, too. Will you?”

With her throat tightening, Fiona dropped to her knees and met D.C.’s eyes. “I love you, D. C. Campbell. And I will.”

From inside the hospital room came another cheer. After one last, long kiss, D.C. said, “By the way, D.C. stands for Duncan Charles.”

Fiona grinned at him. “That’s your deepest, darkest secret?”

“Pretty much. At Jase’s advice I switched to the initials before I entered school. He warned me if I didn’t, the other kids would probably nickname me ‘Donut.’”

Laughing, Fiona and D.C. rose and turned to watch the crowd gathered in Natalie’s room raise their champagne glasses in a toast.





Epilogue




D.C. HANDED FIONA a glass of champagne and leaned close. “Well, what do you think?”

Fiona surveyed the large living room of the Baltimore colonial where D.C.’s family had gathered to celebrate Christmas. Nancy was refilling champagne glasses, and Darcy was trying to cram enormous piles of discarded wrapping paper into a plastic garbage bag.

Fiona’s head was still spinning a little, but she thought she had most of the names straight. Jase, who had his mother’s coloring, was sitting on the other side of D.C., and his fiancée, Maddie, was perched on the arm of the sofa next to him.

It was easy to keep Cash Landry straight because with his tanned skin and lanky build he made her think of a cowboy. And that was what he was. He owned a ranch next to the one Maddie owned in Santa Fe. Cash’s fiancée, Jordan, sat with him on a love seat. Fiona had had some trouble distinguishing identical twins Maddie and Jordan until D.C. had pointed out that Jordan would always be the one wearing killer heels. Fiona could relate to that.