She gripped his fingers hard, damp cheeked and shiny eyed in the candlelight.
“Every now and then I forget how spectacular you are, Sophie.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it, her skin warm, her scent familiar beneath his lips. “You just reminded me.”
And then he said the words that he’d never once imagined he’d say.
“Marry me. Please?”
Chapter Fourteen
“Oh my God!” Kara shot off her stool, her cereal forgotten as she scooted around the breakfast bar to hug Sophie, almost lifting her off her feet in her delight. “What took you so long, Mr. K?” she laughed, turning to kiss Lucien on the cheek too.
“Who said I did the asking?” he said, lifting his eyebrows as he slithered off his stool and picked up his car keys. Sophie brushed toast crumbs from her hands and put her arms around his neck as he leaned in close to kiss her goodbye.
“We both did the asking,” she murmured, smiling as his lips touched hers. He tasted of fresh coffee and of lazy weekend mornings in bed, and she suddenly wished they were back there right now. His hand massaged her hip for a few seconds when she held him close and let her tongue flick against his, lingering. His low sigh told her he appreciated her giving him more than he’d expected.
She smiled softly when he lifted his head.
“I think you’re going to like having me as your wife.” She ran her thumb over his bottom lip then let him go with a gentle push. “Go to work. We’ll be in soon.”
Lucien straightened reluctantly, tugging Kara’s ponytail as he passed her on the way out of the kitchen.
“Don’t fill Sophie’s head with crazy wedding plans,” he said, knowing full well that she was going to.
“So. Tell me everything,” Kara poured them both a fresh mug of coffee and sat down again opposite Sophie. “When, where, how. I need details.” She sipped her drink. “Unless you were actually shagging and he yelled it when he blew his load, in which case feel free to lie.”
Sophie grinned. Kara’s directness always amused her.
“Okay… we were in the secret alcove at the bottom of the garden…”
“What alcove?”
“It’s… well, it’s kind of a secret… like an outdoor bedroom in the cliff.”
“Whoa!” Kara held up her hand, banging her mug down on the breakfast bar. “We have a secret sex alcove at the bottom of the garden?”
“Who knew? I was as surprised as you,” Sophie said mildly. “Anyway, I said that what I’d really like for my birthday was a husband, so he got down on his knees and asked me to marry him.”
Kara shook her head. “Wow. I don’t think there’s another person in this world who that man would get on his knees for.”
They paused in silence for a second, then both spoke at the same time.
“Tilly.”
It was true. The tiny child had her daddy wrapped around her chubby little finger.
“She is going to be the most adorable flower girl,” Kara said, reaching out and covering Sophie’s hand with her own.
Sophie nodded, damp-eyed. “With you to look after her as my maid of honour?”
It was Kara’s turn to well up, and she reached for a nearby box of tissues and dragged them over.
“What are we like?” She laughed shakily. “I think we can safely assume that your wedding day will not turn into the fiasco that mine did. Lucien adores you.”
“I know he does.” Sophie grabbed a tissue too. “I thought it might be nice to have the wedding in Norway.”
Kara slid her mug across the counter and touched it against Sophie’s in assent.
“God, yes! I’d love that. Maybe I can snag myself a Viking of my own after all.”
“If you still need to. You seem pretty loved up with a certain American hottie right now.”
“Sexed up, not loved up,” Kara corrected.
“One has a habit of leading to the other,” Sophie said.
“Not for this gal,” Kara said, sliding off her stool. “I’m happy for sex to just lead to more sex right now.”
“I know… but he seems like a nice guy, that’s all.”
Kara picked up the keys to the Mustang. “As did Richard this time last year. And we all know how that one turned out, don’t we?”
She prepared herself for the usual stabbing sensation that she always felt when she said his name. Whether it was pain from her own heart or the desire to stab his she wasn’t entirely certain, but either way, it didn’t come.
Fuck, she’d finally done it. She’d moved on. Washed that man right out of her hair. Richard had made the coward’s choice on their wedding day, having been issued an ultimatum by his surreptitious girlfriend. Standing at the altar in the ivory dress of her dreams and waiting for a man who didn’t show had been the most humiliating experience of her life, and it had taken a lot of tears and bottles of vodka to set her on the road to recovery.
And now, finally, it would appear that she had arrived. She stood stock still, her hand over her heart and her eyebrows raised towards her best friend.
“Well, what do you know? I was right all along. The best way to get over a man is to get under another one.” She sashayed out of the kitchen, elated.
At the club later that afternoon, Dylan rocked back in his swivel chair and stretched his arms above his head. Lucien sat alongside him and rolled his shoulders as he closed computer files down, work done at last for the day. Opening night was drawing closer and they’d spent the afternoon going over fine details to make sure that everything was in place to guarantee a seamless launch. The press were hungry to see how the club fared on the famed White Isle. While Lucien refused to hide their raison d’etre beneath a veil of prudishness, he equally didn’t allow his clubs to be categorised as seedy. They were hedonist palaces of intense pleasure for the open minded, and he was fiercely proud of the empire he’d created. The impression that the first night would create on guests and the media mattered to him very much.
He opened the desk door and placed a bottle of whisky and two glasses on the top. “Drink?”
“Sure,” Dylan said, watching Lucien pour out two heavy-handed measures. He’d come to admire the other man’s business acumen over the couple of weeks they’d worked together, and sensed that he was someone who played it straight down the line. Dylan was gratified that their business relationship was definitely moving into the territory of friendship too. He really liked this guy.
Lucien took a conversational tone.
“I asked Sophie to marry me yesterday.”
Dylan grinned and accepted the glass Lucien held out along with the confidence he’d shared.
“No way, man! Congratulations!” The whisky hit his throat with a welcome burn. “Although… I’d kind of assumed that you guys were married anyway.”
Lucien knocked back a good slug of whisky. “It’s never been high on our list.”
Dylan nodded slowly, his mind back in the States. “I know what you mean.” He regretted his choice of words as soon as they were out, and Lucien was too clever by far to miss the fact that his response was laden with meaning.
“You do?”
Measured words were needed. “I’ve been close once or twice,” he said non-committally, draining his glass then scrubbing his hand over the roughness of his cheek with a half smile. “Women, huh?” He was well aware that his sweeping generalisation sounded lame.
Lucien lifted one shoulder as he replenished their glasses.