She checked the designer tag and nodded. "Okay." She slipped the robe on and belted it.
He stalked to his dresser and grabbed a pair of Nike sweatpants. Grumbling under his breath, he jammed his legs into them. "Is this acceptable?"
"Perfect. Thank you. Now you may propose."
"Terrific. So what do you say?"
"About what?"
He took a deep breath and calmed himself. "About getting married. Yes or no?"
She raised her brows. "Wow. How excruciatingly romantic."
He dragged his palms down his face. "I'm sorry. But I've never proposed before. I wasn't aware all this damn protocol was involved." He took her hands and entwined their fingers. "I love you, Melanie. I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?"
A brilliant smile lit her face. "Yes." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Now I'll ask you. Will you marry me?"
"Oh, no," he said, shaking his head. "If you're gonna ask me, we have to do it the guy way."
"The guy way?"
"Yeah." He untied the robe and slid it from her shoulders. Then he shucked his sweatpants, scooped her up, and carried her back to the bed.
Once they were lying in each other's arms, he said, "Okay. I'm ready. Go ahead and ask. Now when all my buddies ask me about popping the question, I can say we were in bed and naked." He kissed her nose. "It's a guy thing."
She laughed. "Will you marry me?"
He scrunched up his face and pretended to consider the question. "Well, let's see. On the plus side, you're really cute, sweet, and a great cook. Of course you're kinda bossy sometimes-ouch!" He rubbed his shoulder where she'd lightly punched him. "Okay! I'll marry you, Mel Gibson." He grinned. "Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd say."
She shot him a belligerent glare. "Wanna change your mind?"
He rolled them over until she sat astride him. "No way."
"When should we do it?"
He ran his hands up her body and cupped her breasts. "Hmmm. How about right now?"
"You want to get married right now?"
"No. I want to make love to you right now. We can get married tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"Next week?"
"That doesn't give us much time to plan a wedding."
"How much time do we need?" he asked. "All you need for a wedding is a bride, a groom, and a minister. We have two out of three. How long can it take to find a minister?"
He rolled them again until she was under him, then settled himself between her splayed thighs.
"Besides," he added, running his lips down the length of her neck, "the wedding has to take place soon. Starting next month you'll be too busy with your new catering enterprise to take time off to get married. We need a couple of weeks for a honeymoon."
She moved beneath him, running her hands down his back. "Hmmm. Yes. The honeymoon."
"I vote for two weeks from now." He looked down at her dreamy expression. "How does that sound?"
"Perfect."
"Are we done talking now?"
"Yes."
He lowered his mouth to hers. "Thank God."
Epilogue
It poured on their wedding day.
The rain fell in a blinding sheet, but Melanie didn't care. Holding Chris's hand, they squeezed together under a huge umbrella and made a mad dash down the church steps and scurried into the white stretch limo waiting to whisk them off to the airport.
"Good grief," Melanie said, shaking raindrops from the full skirt of her simple ankle-length wedding dress. "Nothing like keeping with our tradition of getting wet. I've never seen such rain. Maybe we should build an ark."
"Relax," Chris said, settling himself next to her. "In a few hours our plane will land in sunny Florida. Then we'll board the cruise ship and spend the next week frolicking around the Caribbean." He kissed her nose. "I trust that meets with your approval, Mrs. Bishop."
Mrs. Bishop. Boy, did that sound nice. Mrs. Bishop smiled at her husband. "I can't wait. I've never been on a cruise before-except for our canoeing excursion. Hopefully this boat is a little bigger."
"Not to worry. I'll keep you safe."
"Hmmm. A week-long honeymoon, then as soon as we get home, there's another wedding to attend."
Chris smiled. "Nana and Bernie. Are they great together or what?"
"Perfect," Melanie agreed. "Although I think Nana scandalized the minister when she announced that she and Bernie had to get married. The poor man needed to sit down."
"He did look sort of pale," Chris said with a chuckle.
"At least I don't need to worry about the Pampered Palate while I'm away," Melanie said. "My dad is so excited about watching the place. I hope you won't mind if your new in-laws move to Atlanta."
"I won't mind at all. Having your folks around to pitch in at the Pampered Palate means more free time for you, and that sounds great to me." He slipped a handkerchief from his tuxedo jacket pocket and gently dabbed a few stray raindrops from her cheeks. Melanie watched him, and her heart skidded to a halt.
He was her husband.
Hers to have and to hold. From this day forward.
How incredibly lovely was that?
She blew out a deep breath. Her gaze traveled over him from head to foot. Holy smokes. He looked so outrageously handsome in his black tux, she couldn't decide if she wanted him to keep it on forever, or if she wanted to tear it off him with her teeth.
"You okay?" he asked, halting his ministrations and giving her a searching look. "You look flushed."
Was she okay? She'd just married the most wonderful, gorgeous, incredible man on earth. Okay was a pretty lukewarm word to describe how she felt
"I'm fine. I'm incredibly happy." She touched his face with trembling fingers. "I can't believe we're married."
"You're legally stuck with me forever," he said, taking her hand and placing a warm kiss on her palm. "You don't mind that you're not Mel Gibson anymore, do you?"
Melanie heaved a blissful sigh and wrapped her arms around him. "Do I look like I mind?"
"No. You look beautiful. Stunning. The most perfect bride I've ever seen." He kissed her, tenderly at first, then with increasing ardor. Melanie's hormones sighed, oooohhhhh baby!
Several seconds later, however, she pulled back.
"What was that noise?"
"What noise? I didn't hear anything."
Grrrrr.
Grrrrr.
Chris frowned. "That's sounds strangely familiar."
Grrrrr.
Silence.
"Uh-oh," Melanie whispered. "That didn't sound good. And have you noticed we're not moving?"
The limo driver lowered the smoke-glass partition separating them from the front seat and looked at them through the rearview mirror.
"Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Bishop, but there appears to be a, er, problem with the car."
"What sort of problem?" Chris asked.
"It won't start. Sounds to me like the battery's dead."
Melanie and Chris stared at each other. Chris pinched the bridge of his nose. "I thought I recognized that growling noise."
A knock sounded on the rear window. Smothering a laugh at Chris's expression, Melanie touched a button and lowered the window.
Nana and Bernie stood outside, huddled under the protection of a red-and-blue-striped umbrella.
"What's up?" asked Nana, sticking her head in.
"The battery's dead," Melanie answered.
Nana shook her head. "Jiminy Cricket. You two are always soaking wet or stranded." Pulling open the limo door, she said, "Come on. Me and Bernie will drive you to the airport." She marched off with Bernie, heading toward the lime-green Dodge.
Chris groaned. "Please tell me we're not going in the Dodge. Please."
Melanie laughed and kissed him. "Don't worry. With the way Nana drives, we'll definitely get to the airport on time. Besides, we started off in the Dodge, so it's only fitting that we finish there."