Trace of Fever - Lori Foster [139]
She wanted to make a difference, the same way that Trace did. But she’d broach that topic later. “I’m not a person who does well with idle time.”
“Seriously? I never would have guessed.”
His teasing didn’t bother her, especially when she looked at her ring again. Smaller diamonds surrounded the impressive princess-cut stone, making it glint brightly in the sunlight. “It is so perfect.”
“If it’s not, we can exchange it—”
She snatched the ring up close to her chest. “Never.”
Trace gave a slow, sexy grin. “So, Priscilla Patterson, since you approve of my job, my home, my friends and my ring, will you try another new experience—and marry me?”
Joy bubbled up, but she didn’t want to shout just yet. “When you go off to—” she glanced at Matt “—work, will you at least tell me what’s going on?”
“Yes. As much as I can.”
“Will you be honest about the danger involved?”
“I’ll be honest with you about everything.”
“Okay.” She peeked at him, and winced in dread. “Did you want a big wedding?”
Trace frowned at the continued line of questioning. “I want whatever you want.”
That almost made her cry, too. “Another first,” she whispered, because before now, what she wanted hadn’t really mattered. She kept smoothing her hands over his chest, as always drawn by his physique. “You should enter a wet T-shirt contest. You’d win.”
Chris snorted, but Matt agreed.
Priss ignored him. “If you’re sure it doesn’t matter to you, I’m not keen on the idea of anything too fancy.”
Trace pulled her off the rock ledge and into his arms. “Small works fine for me. Just family and friends?”
“All right.” She looked over at Matt. “I’ll invite him. Everyone else will have to come from your side.”
“Me?” Matt choked. “I mean, I’d be honored, but—”
Trace’s crooked smile put Matt at ease.
“Well, I’m flattered.” Matt put a hand to his heart. “Thank you, Priscilla.”
She grinned at him. “I’ll need you there to do my hair anyway.”
Chris pushed up from his seated position. As if he were the Pied Piper, the dogs and cat followed suit. “I think I’ll go tell Dare to figure on something nice for dinner. That is, if you two want to celebrate with friends?”
Friends. Thanks to Trace, she had them now. “Will you invite Trace’s sister so I can meet her?”
“She’d skin me if I didn’t,” Chris told her.
“And Jackson?” Priss asked.
“Why not?” Trace gave her a teasing smooch, and then said in a lower voice meant just for Priss, “I might as well see the two of them together so I can gauge the situation myself.”
He was so wonderful that Priss felt giddy. “When I took self-defense training, when I spent so many nights thinking of how I’d confront Murray, what I’d accomplish, never—not once—did I figure on meeting someone like you.”
“Someone you love.”
“Yes.”
He waited until Chris and Matt had gotten far enough way. “Do you really think you can redirect all that awesome energy now that Murray is gone?”
“To love you? To be this happy?” She leaned into him for a kiss. “Absolutely.”
Eyes blazing, Trace lifted her up and headed deeper into the water. His jeans dragged and his shirt stuck to his body.
Confused, Priss asked, “What are you doing?”
He moved under the dock, behind the ladder. Voice deeper now, he said, “Making love in the water.”
She gasped. “In daylight?”
“They like to tease, and God knows they can be annoying—especially Matt—but I promise you that no one will be watching.” He pressed her up against the ladder. “And now that you’ve agreed to marry me, I need you.”
Priss looked at the wooden boards over her head, allowing only thin strips of sunshine through. The air was warm, the water cold. She felt Trace’s jean-covered legs against hers,