“Really?”
“Really. I’m not as Dudley-Do-Rightly as you seem to think.”
“Dudley-Do—oh, never mind. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you why it was so important to me to see Jay.”
“I’m guessing it wasn’t solely because you thought I’d try to talk you out of it. Did you believe you were protecting me?”
She smiled ruefully. “It sounds absurd when I hear you say it. It made sense to me at the time. I thought the less you knew about my conversation with Jay, the better it would be for you.”
Sullivan’s mouth took on a wry twist. “You realize I still know less than nothing.”
“Oh. Right. I wasn’t with Jay long. He asked me to post bail. I told him no. Then I got to the purpose of my visit. I explained that the reason he wasn’t facing an extortion charge was because I hadn’t told anyone what he’d attempted to do. I told him he shouldn’t rest easy, though, because I had proof that I could use at any time if he decided to talk about my lottery win. Mr. Finch will testify to my peculiar request to transfer half a million to an account in the Caymans that can easily be traced back to Jay. Mr. Finch and I still have the account numbers. There is also the fact that Finch put the transfer in his system but never hit send. A record of that exists. Jay has a lot more at stake than I do if he mentions the lottery. There are no guarantees, of course, but I think Jay will keep the information to himself for the foreseeable future.”
“And if he doesn’t?
“I can learn to live with that.”
Sullivan’s smoky eyes rested on her face. “I believe you.” He leaned forward, extended his bottle, and waited for her to tap it with her glass. Smiling, satisfied that the air was clear, he said, “All right. You can tell me. I’m ready.”
“Tell you? I thought I just did.”
He merely regarded her expectantly, one eyebrow raised slightly above the other, and knew instantly when she understood.
“You’re sure?” she asked. “You really want to know?”
Sullivan nodded. “It’s only fair that I’m clear on what I’m abandoning when I sign the prenup.”
Ramsey opened her mouth to speak, snapped it shut, and then opened it again on an audible gasp. She set her wine glass down, not because she was tempted to throw it but because she needed both hands to clamp over her mouth and stifle what she feared might be a middle school tween’s squeal.
Sullivan’s deep and slightly wicked laughter was cut short when Ramsey jumped up from the sofa and launched herself onto his lap. He managed to get his beer out of the way before he chipped his teeth on the bottle. It was almost empty so he dropped it on the floor.
He grunted when she landed. “Easy there. At least until we’ve discussed children.”
Ramsey slipped her arms around him and pasted his face with kisses, avoiding his mouth until the last, and then she lingered there, sweet and deep. When she came up for air, she touched her forehead to his and whispered, “I love you. I do. I like saying it. I like knowing it. I like living with it.”
“You own my heart, Ramsey Masters.”
“Mm, and I shall take excellent care of it.”
“Good. Now get up.”
“Crushing you, am I? There goes the romance.” She leaned back, placed her hands on the wide arms of the chair, and began to lift. At the same time, Sullivan was shifting his weight so he could reach under him to dig something from a back pocket. He found it before she was on her feet and pulled her right back onto his lap.
“You were fine,” he said, “but I was afraid we were crushing this.”
Ramsey’s attention was all for the iconic Tiffany box that Sullivan held between his thumb and forefinger. She gave him a watery smile. “And the romance is back. It’s a regular roller coaster with you.” She took the box, opened it, and her vision blurred as she stared at the engagement ring. “It’s beautiful,” she said reverently. “Lovely.” She looked up at him. “Are you sure?”
“Iam, but if you don’t like it, we can pick out another.”
“Not like it? Do you know a woman who wouldn’t want a two and a half carat Tiffany diamond in a platinum setting?”
“Perhaps a woman who could afford the Hope diamond?”
“Twenty-three million,” she said. “That’s what I won after taxes. It wouldn’t buy me a Hope diamond chip. Does that make you feel better?”
“Not sure. I thought I was marrying rich.”
“Well, there you go,” she said smartly. Ramsey removed the ring and set the box aside. She dangled the ring for him to take, splayed the fingers of her left hand, and didn’t breathe again until he slipped it on for her. The ring sat low on her finger, somehow making the diamond seem larger and her finger seem longer and more elegantly tapered. “It truly is quite stunning. Did you have help?”
