Jilly squeezed her eyes shut. Good grief, she really did need those reading glasses. But when she reopened her eyes, the message, incredibly, remained. Tears misted her eyes, and her bottom lip trembled. This man… this wonderful, generous, sweet, kind, romantic, beautiful man was going to be the death of her. But, wow, what a way to go.
She raised her gaze to his, noting how completely frazzled and anxious he looked. Clearing her throat, she said in a conspiratorial whisper, "It would appear that the guy at the candy store really, really likes me."
His eyes widened with an expression bordering on panic. "The guy in the candy store didn't write that message-I did!"
Guilt slapped her for teasing him. The poor guy really looked worried. "I know, Matt, I was only kidding."
"I'll have you know that I made those chocolate marshmallows all by myself. Melted the chocolate and everything. And let me tell you, I am to cooking what Julia Child is to Sumo wrestling. I set off the damn smoke alarm-twice-and that chocolate gets hot." He held up his index finger. "Look. I got a blister."
Deeply touched and more than a little amused, she grasped his hand and brought it her mouth, bestowing a gentle kiss on his injured fingertip. "Better?"
His expression relaxed, but he was clearly not ready for her to abandon her ministrations, because he shook his head. "I think I need some more TLC. Lots of TLC. Proposing is very exhausting, traumatic, and harrowing work. Especially the part when you're, ahem, waiting for an answer."
Dear God, he really did look worried. "So this is what you meant when you said we shouldn't continue our affair?"
He lightly grasped her shoulders, then leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "I don't just want to have an affair with you, Jilly. I love you and want to share my life with you. Not for just a few weeks or months, but forever. As husband and wife." He leaned back and Jilly looked into his eyes, which were so serious and intense and filled with love. For her. "Will you marry me?"
A sense of completeness, of happiness, unlike anything she'd ever known, suffused her. Matt didn't want to control her life-he wanted to share it. "I want all those same things, Matt," she whispered. "Yes. I'll marry you."
Anything else she might have thought to say was lost as his lips covered hers in a kiss filled with love and passion and promise for the future. By the time he lifted his head, she was breathing hard, and thankful she was sitting down because she'd lost all sensation in her knees.
"There's one more thing in my shopping bag," Matt said, a hint of deviltry gleaming in his eyes. He reached in, then handed her a sprig of fresh mistletoe.
Jilly laughed and twirled the sprig between her fingers. "Hmmm. I think I'm finally ready to claim my prize."
"Oh? What do you want?"
"I want the three of us-you, me, and Mr. Mistletoe-to retire to my bedroom and see what sort of Christmas mischief we can get into."
He pretended to ponder her proposal. "Can we bring your chocolate-covered marshmallows?"
"Absolutely. Whaddaya say, handsome?"
"I say Merry Christmas and bring on the mischief, sweetheart."
Jacquie D’Alessandro
