Page 125 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

Natalie shook her head. “Have no idea.”

Dash cocked his head to one side, his gaze reading her from head to toe and back again like the penultimate chapter of a spy novel. “You turned the tables on me, Amelia.”

She took a step toward him. “Stole your grand gesture right out from under your nose, Mr. Crown. You played right into my hands.”

“Truth be told, there’s no place I’d rather be.”

“There’s just one problem.”

“What?” he asked with a wary tone.

"Well, I had this idea that you’d walk in here, totally dejected, flop down at the bar, and order a martini. Then I was going to sneak up behind you and surprise you by doing the same—a full re-creation of our London pub scene, all the way down to requesting jalapeno slices."

“Should I leave and come back in? I mean, I’m happy to go the full distance to make this dream come true.” He stepped forward, their bodies almost touching.

You’re making my dreams come true right now, just by being here. By going all out with your crazy scheme to show me that you believe in me—that you believe in us.

"If it's not too much trouble,” she said, running her hand over his tie. “Then, once we have drinks in hand, you can tell me the story behind this gawd-awful thing.”

He pulled the antique stopwatch from his pocket and held it up. "I'll be back in sixty seconds. Time me."

I’m already counting the seconds. The nanoseconds, in fact. Like I’ve counted every minute since London. Forever starts now, Mr. Crown.

Dash headed back outside. Natalie watched him through the window. He paced around for a few steps as he got in character, then turned back to her, a look of defeat plastered on his face. She couldn’t hold in her laughter. He slogged back inside the bar, looking like a wounded puppy. Head down. Hunched over as though he’d suffered a crushing blow. He didn’t make eye contact with her but continued to the bar and parked on the only vacant stool. Natalie slipped up behind him, watching his reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

"What can I get started for you, sir?" a bartender asked.

Dash let out a heavy sigh. "Double vodka martini, please—very dry."

"Can you make that two?" her voice cut through the noise. "With two olives, please, unless you have a jalapeño pepper back there, in which case I’ll take one of those instead."

Dash spun around on the barstool to face her. One hand fell across his heart in faux shock as he said, “Why Ms. Earhart, this is quite the surprise."

"It's Amelia, but my closest friends call me Amy," she replied, her smile radiant.

"You look absolutely enchanting.”

"And you haven't lost your impeccable fashion sense." She eyed his gaudy red tie, the word DOMESTICATED printed down the center.

He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a flower. He brushed her hair back and tucked it behind her ear.

Natalie's heart roared with thunderous beats.

"The gardenias were a nice touch," he said.

"Oh, you like that, huh?"

"I like it all." His eyes grew serious. "Every single bit of it."

He pulled her body closer, locking her between his knees while his arms wound around her waist. A week ago, she couldn’t have envisioned this moment. Being back in Dash’s arms? An answered prayer. For the first time since London, Natalie felt truly secure with the knowledge she could have it all. Dash would always champion her dreams and goals.

“Before you left my apartment, you made a statement that’s stuck with me ever since. You said second chances don’t happen very often, and we have to take them when we can.”

“It’s true. And I’m taking mine right now.”

Natalie didn’t give him a chance to respond. Her mouth covered his and she kissed him deeply. For a full minute, they were caught up in the deliciousness of guilt-free rediscovery, oblivious to the world at large.

The bartender cleared his throat loudly as he placed their martinis on the shiny bar top. Reluctantly, they pulled apart—both breathless.