“Yes, oh, yes, I’ll marry you, Jake Buchanan.” She leaned away and looked at him, and he felt as if she were peering into his soul, so intense was her gaze. “I thought I’d lost you after you came home. It hurt so bad.” She thumped her heart with her fist. “Here.”
When her tears turned to sobs, Jake held the woman he loved, the one who owned his heart, body, and soul, and made a promise. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll never treat you like that again. I thought . . . It doesn’t matter what I thought, I was wrong.”
“Yeah, you were,” she said, and rubbed her face over the sleeve of his shirt.
Well, now he knew it was love because he didn’t mind at all that she’d wiped her nose on his clothes. He found her mouth and tasted the salt from her tears as he kissed her. “Forgive me?” he asked when they finally came up for air.
“This time. Next time you won’t be so lucky.”
“There won’t be a next time, I promise.” A wave crashed over their legs. “You’re going to ruin your dress.”
“I don’t care.”
“That’s all fine and good, but do you love me?” She’d told him before, but that seemed a hundred years ago, and he needed to hear her say the words again.
“I love you. I do. I love who you are and everything you stand for. I love your hair; your eyebrows; your beautiful eyes; the muscles that flex in your arms, making me drool; your toes; your—”
“I get the picture,” he said, laughing from pure joy. “Are you sure you don’t care if you ruin your dress?”
“This dress is up for anything tonight. Why?”
“This is why.” He put his arms around her waist and turned her with him onto the sand. As they lay on their backs staring up at a sky lit up with millions of stars twinkling like diamonds on black velvet, he entwined his fingers with hers and brought her hand up, placing a kiss on each of her knuckles.
For so long, he’d gone along thinking he was happy with his life, with the numerous women he’d taken to his bed, refusing to acknowledge there was something missing. He’d thought he could never settle on one woman, would never be able to make that kind of commitment. Never had he been so glad to learn he’d been wrong.
If there wasn’t one more thing he had to tell her, he’d cover her with his body and make love to her as the waves rolled over them. But there was, and any loving would have to wait. He lifted onto his elbow and picked up a strand of her hair, now damp from the wet sand.
“Cold?” he asked as he wound the curl around his finger.
“No, but now that you love me, I’m thinking you should tell me where you went.”
Damn, if she didn’t make him want to grin like a lovesick puppy. “I was wondering how long it would take you to ask again. How would you like to honeymoon in San Diego?”
“Don’t tell me you were scouting out honeymoon locations.”
Her feet were flat on the sand, her knees up, the bottom of the silky red dress draped around her upper thighs. Dark brown hair was spread out over the sand, and the moon hanging overhead was reflected in her eyes. She looked like a goddess come to earth, and he wanted to bury himself inside her, grounding her to this plane so she’d never leave.
“You’re so beautiful, Maria. If we could arrange for food delivery, I think I could spend my life right here just looking at you.”
“And I’d look right back at you, but what’s this about honeymooning in San Diego? Why there?”
“You have a one-track mind, Chiquita, but to answer your question, we should honeymoon there so you can meet your father.”
Maria ceased to feel the chill she’d lied to Jake about. Being cold, ruining an expensive new dress, and getting sand into various crevices meant nothing when the man she loved had asked her to marry him. This, she hadn’t expected.
“What?” She sat up. “What did you just say?”
“I found your father . . . I should probably say I’m ninety-nine percent sure I did.”
“That’s where you’ve been? Why? How do you know for certain? Is it Miguel Garcia? He’s the one who lives in San Diego. What did—”
He put his finger over her lips. “Easy, Chiquita. Did you know Chiquita means baby? I didn’t until a few days ago. I just called you that because I liked the sound of it, but now it has meaning. Are you mad? I’d hoped—”
“Stop it, Jake. You’re rambling like Professor Lumaris, and I always found him annoying. No, I’m not mad.” She pressed her hand against her chest. “I swear, my heart’s beating faster than a racehorse at the end of a race. Start at the beginning and tell me what possessed you to take off to San Diego and why you believe Garcia’s my father.”