His body growing taut with desire. Clay smiled down at her with an expression she recognized, her body responding quite physically to the silent invitation. "I haven't shown you around the house yet, have I? Particularly the bedroom."
"No, you haven't. Show me our house. Clay."
"Our house? You like it?"
"I love it. I can't wait to put on jeans and a work shirt and start remodeling with you. How are you at hanging wallpaper?"
"I'm hell on wheels at wallpaper. It's going to be a lot of work, Spring."
"It's something I've always wanted to do. I even have my own set of tools, thanks to my sister Autumn."
He had to stop to hug her again. "You are terrific, did you know that?"
"I'm perfectly willing to be convinced."
"Oh, I intend to convince you, darling. If it takes a lifetime."
"I suspect that it will."
There was another surprise waiting for her in the large, almost completely renovated master bedroom. In front of the native-stone fireplace—a mate to the one in the living room—a handmade quilt had been spread invitingly. A silver ice bucket held a bottle of champagne, and two crystal glasses with beribboned stems waited for a toast. A dozen red roses in a tall crystal vase perfumed the room, masking the faint dustiness of the empty house.
"Oh, Clay." She turned to him, her eyes filling again at the blatant sentimentality of his gesture. "What would you have done if I'd said no?"
"Poured the champagne over your head, thrown you onto the quilt and made love to you until you were too weak to argue with me," he returned promptly, holding out his hand. "Come here, sweetheart. Let's toast our very brief engagement."
"How brief?" she asked with interest, placing her hand in his and allowing him to lead her across the room and seat her on the quilt.
"As brief as your practice and my settling of affairs will allow," he replied, popping the cork and pouring two bubbling glasses of champagne. "To a long and happy life together, my love."
She touched her glass to his and lifted it to her lips, unable even to taste the expensive wine in her excitement and joy.
Clay took only one swallow from his glass, equally oblivious to the taste, his gaze fastened on the flushed, happy face of his future wife. His nerves, which had been tight with anxiety earlier, began to thrum with another type of anticipation. Still having trouble believing in his good fortune, he wanted to further seal their commitment in the most basic manner of all. He wanted to make love to her, to bury himself deep inside her and remind himself over and over that he had every right to be there, that she was his and he was hers and he would never be lonely again.
Her eyes met his, and he watched her read the message he was sending her, watched her eyelids grow heavy, her lips soften and glisten as she moistened them with just the tip of her tongue. A groan started deep in his chest and forced its way through his throat. He set his drink down abruptly and reached for her, barely giving her time to set her own glass safely out of the way.
And then he was kissing her and holding her, and she was holding him, loving him, needing him, filling that lifelong void inside him. Filling it so perfectly that it would never open again. And because he'd craved that feeling for so long, he felt his eyes filling with tears of happiness and gratitude. Spring kissed away his tears, even as he did hers, and then sweetness turned to passion and tenderness to hunger and they were tossing aside clothes and reaching for each other. His thrust took him deep, deep inside her, and her arch forced him even deeper until neither of them could tell where one left off and the other began. They were one, and they would have settled for nothing less.
The words he muttered into her ear as he rocked against her, inside her, were disjointed and not particularly clever, punctuated by ragged gasps and broken sighs, but she knew what he was telling her and her clenched hands and sinuous movements answered him in kind. By the time they shuddered together and cried out their fulfillment, there was no further doubt of their love or commitment.
It seemed like a very long time later when Spring stirred, sighed and lifted her head to smile at Clay. "I hope no one else decides to check out this house in the next few minutes," she told him, lying nude alongside him on the rumpled blanket.
He chuckled. "Good point. Though the realtor assured me that I had the only key, I guess there's no need to press our luck. Maybe we should get dressed."
"I love this bedroom." She looked around the room with pleasure, anticipating many happy times there with Clay.
"There are two other bedrooms you haven't seen yet. Think we can come up with a use for them?" Clay asked hopefully.
"I'm sure well think of something," she answered, picturing two blond children with blue-green eyes and beautiful smiles and unusual taste in clothing.
"Someone once told me that I'll be better with kids once I've had some of my own."
She winced as she remembered their quarrel. "That someone sounds like an idiot. You're already great with kids."
"I'd still like to have a family with you. A boy and a girl. Or two boys. Or two girls. Or three or four of each."
She laughed and shook her head firmly. "Two sounds like plenty."
"Just think—we can all wear matching outfits!"