He was in the same spot as before, only he had dropped to his knees. He held a brilliant marquise-cut diamond ring, and he had that endearing vulnerability of uncertainty in his gaze again. The one she’d seen only once before, when he told her he wanted to love her.
“Tara, you’ve completed me. I never thought I could be so happy until you came along and showed me how. I know we’ve been living together for six months now, and people said we moved too fast”—he took a deep breath—“but I don’t think we moved fast enough. I’ve known you for years, but now I want to know you’re mine. I want to make it official, and I hope to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you’ve made me.”
“You already have,” she managed to say, though she could barely speak through her swollen throat. “So much.”
“But I’ve barely begun.” He held the ring higher. “Tara Harris, ex-thief, owner of my heart, and genius—will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
She nodded, tears blurring her vision. “Yes. Oh my God, yes.”
He grinned and stood up, hauling her close and kissing her. She clung to his shoulders, her heart hammering in her ears, and he ravished her mouth. By the time he pulled back and broke off the kiss, she’d almost forgotten where they were.
And what he’d been doing.
Jake slid the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit, but of course it would be. He wouldn’t have it any other way. “I love you.”
Tara grinned at him and sniffed. “I love you, too.”
He hugged her close. “But I was wrong. You’re not an ex-thief.”
“What?” She pulled back and stared at him. “Sure I am. You saw to it that the last thing I stole was the vase a week before you crashed back into my life. I’ve been on the straight and narrow ever since.”
“Nope. Wrong.” He lifted her chin. “You stole one more thing.”
She racked her memory, trying to recall what she could have taken. Then she remembered the first day at his house, how she had found that picture of him on his dresser and stuffed it in her bag. It was on her desk now, framed beside the picture of her, him, and Fluffy—who still didn’t trust Jake. “The picture?”
He grinned and shook his head. “You can keep that. I realized you took it that day, and didn’t give a damn.”
She sighed. “Then what?”
“My heart.” He kissed her gently and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “You stole my heart, and I never want it back.”
“Good. Because I’m not giving it back.”
He swept her into his arms and shut off the light. “Now, about that punishment…”
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