No way.
Before her, in all its picture-postcard glory, was property number one, the house of her dreams. ‘But—But it was sold?’
‘Let’s just say the new owner was very reasonable when I explained how much the love of my life adored the house,’ he said smoothly. ‘He couldn’t help but sell it to me—to us.’
She laughed, her head shaking in disbelief. ‘How much?’
He blew through his lips on a pfft. ‘So much for trying to be romantic. There’s no pulling the wool over your eyes, is there?’
‘Absolutely not,’ she said, sending him a quick grin and looking back to the house, her jaw slackening in awe—he’d really bought it? For her?
‘I knew you loved it,’ he said softly. ‘Watching you that first viewing, I think I spent all of it looking at you, rather than it. But when I came back last month—’
‘You came back?’
‘Well, yes, I had to be sure it wasn’t some death trap waiting to happen and that I wasn’t being blinded by some crazy romantic notion.’
She laughed again. ‘Oh, I definitely think it’s crazy.’
She could sense him frown. ‘You do?’
‘Totally.’ She waved her hands at its magnitude. ‘Who buys their girlfriend a house for her birthday?’
He came up behind her, his arms wrapping around her middle and drawing her close. She leant back into his inviting warmth, her arms coming up to overlay his own.
‘No, perhaps you’re right.’ He dropped his head into the crook of her shoulder and nuzzled into her neck, a small contented sound rumbling low in his throat resonating right along her spine. ‘But I would buy it for my wife.’
What? She stilled. He couldn’t mean?
She turned in his arms, her gaze wide-eyed and welling. ‘Are you...?’
He grinned, his face so full of love he stole her words away.
‘Will you marry me, Zara Anders?’
He slipped his hand into the pocket of his jeans and she dropped her gaze, watching as he lifted it back up to her. There, in his upturned palm, rested a diamond ring, its single solitaire sparkling in the sunlight. Her heart swelled so big, she could scarce draw breath, the word ‘Yes’ slipping from her lips barely audible.
She watched as he took it up and slipped it over her proffered finger.
‘I feel like I’m dreaming,’ she whispered.
He interlaced his fingers through her engaged hand, his other tilting her chin up to face him. ‘Do you need me to prove you’re not? Because I can think of some very effective ways to show you that...and I quite fancy reliving the pond moment.’
He wiggled his brow, all hopeful, and she erupted in a giggle, the swing from romantic to horny sending her giddy. ‘You’re insatiable.’
‘And you’re a permanent tease on my senses. I say we’re even.’
‘Even, you say?’ She nodded, giving mock-consideration to his words, her love for him swelling hard and fast.
‘Uh-huh.’
She beamed. ‘I love you.’
‘And I love you, Mrs Lazenby-to-be.’
He dropped his head to claim her, his mouth gentle and coaxing over hers. She lost herself in his surprising softness, her body turning to liquid, and then he dropped forward, one arm hooking beneath her legs and swinging her up, forcing out a startled squeal.
‘Pond. Now!’