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‘But with you, even the bad times are good,’ he said, not entirely teasing. ‘My life has certainly been a lot more exciting since you entered into it.’
‘I don’t know if I can supply quite this level of excitement on a permanent basis,’ she said shakily, and then realised she was being presumptuous.
‘So…where do we go from here?’ she asked, freeing her hands and looking from her car to his. But he knew she wasn’t talking about mere transport.
‘Where do you want us to go?’
‘I don’t care,’ she said recklessly, ‘as long as we’re together. I’d happily spend the rest of my life proving my love to you.’
‘Then you’ll probably be needing this,’ he said, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and producing the brazen engagement ring which she had left behind.
‘I didn’t throw your roses away, you know,’ she blurted. ‘The yellow ones you sent after the party. I kept changing the water and they lasted for a week…’
‘And you kept that prissy note they came with,’ he said huskily. ‘That gave me the courage to hope. Courage is like love. It has to have hope for nourishment. I couldn’t stop thinking of you after that party. I kept hoping that we would run into one another again soon,
wondering if I could invent some excuse for calling you…’
He held out the ring. ‘Take it. It’s yours.’
‘But…I don’t want to pretend any more…’ she whispered.
‘Nor do I.’ He slid the ring onto her finger. ‘So let’s do it all over again, this time for real…’
EPILOGUE
WAKING up next to the man you loved was, Rachel decided, one of life’s most joyous delights.
‘Good morning, husband,’ she murmured to the dark-haired man gazing at her with clearly lecherous intent.
‘Happy anniversary, wife,’ he purred.
Feeling deliciously wicked, she eased on top of him, enjoying the feel of skin on skin…his naked body adjusting to her flagrantly voluptuous contours.
‘Six years and you’re still as insatiable as ever,’ she accused him laughingly.
‘Who’s on top of whom?’ he pointed out, wrapping his arms around her and luxuriating in her eager kisses.
A blinding flash from the doorway had them both freezing in shock. With a squeak Rachel squirmed off her husband, pulling up the sheets.
‘A pitcha, a pitcha—, Kevin taked a pitcha!’ the dark-headed four-year-old shrieked excitedly, dancing on chubby legs across the bedroom carpet, the expensive instant camera waving precariously in his stubby fist.
He flung himself against the side of the mattress, giggling as a strong, masculine arm reached down to hook him up onto the bed to join his parents.
He bounced up and down in glee as his mother detached the camera from his dimpled fingers and peeled off the film.
‘Oh, God!’ Rachel blushed as she watched it develop in full, eye-catching colour. ‘My son,’ she moaned, ‘the budding blackmailer!’
‘Let me see.’ Matt plucked it from her hands and studied it in amusement. ‘Mmm, this brings back some very interesting memories. I’ll have to add it to my private collection,’ he leered.
‘Matt, you don’t still have those wretched photos?’ she gasped laughingly.
‘Of course. They have great sentimental value to me,’ he said with a pious look, and then spoiled it by adding slyly, ‘I used to sleep with them under my pillow whenever you were away.’
‘Well, you won’t need them from now on!’
Rachel and Frank had made their difficult peace, going on to build a new, more equal relationship out of the ruins of the old one. Weston Security Services had gone from strength to strength in the past few years, but since Kevin had been born Rachel had cut back her office hours and done an increasing amount of her work from home. Now WSS had merged with another company and acquired two new partners, and she intended to take a complete break for a while, eager to spend more time with her family.
‘Mr Mischief,’ she scolded Kevin lovingly, as he crawled between them for a hug and a tickle on his pyjama-clad stomach. ‘Stick to your own toys from now on!’
