Love Proof (Laws of Attraction)

Forty-two

Cookie baking was in full swing around noon when the doorbell rang.

“Want to get that, honey?” Sarah’s mother asked. Her hands were currently buried deep in cookie dough. “I’ll bet it’s Nancy. I told her she could borrow my big cake pan.”

“Sure,” Sarah said, wiping her hands on her own traditional Christmas apron, the one with the sassy girl elf on the front, winking as she placed a huge star on the top of a tiny tree.

Sarah passed her father sitting in the living room, apparently too mesmerized by the football game to have heard the doorbell.

Sarah opened the door.

“Joe! Wh-what are you doing here?”

Within what seemed like seconds, Sarah’s mother appeared behind her. Joined surprisingly quickly by her father. The best Sarah could do was give Joe a tentative smile and widen her eyes in warning.

Joe smiled easily and stuck out his hand. “Hi, Mrs. Henley. I’m Joe Burke.”

If he hadn’t gotten it from Sarah’s expression before, the look of shock on her mother’s face should have said it all. Joe glanced at Sarah for a quick confirmation, and she subtly shook her head.

“Mr. Henley, nice to meet you, sir.”

Sarah’s father had a sturdy handshake, but it looked like Joe could take it. Then all four of them stood around the doorway looking at each other.

“Merry Christmas,” Joe said, handing Sarah’s mother a box of chocolates.

“Merry . . . ” But that was as far as Mrs. Henley got. She looked from Sarah to Joe, then asked him, “Did you . . . need to come in or something?”

“No, thank you,” Joe said. “Actually, I was hoping to borrow your daughter for a little while, if that’s all right.”

“Something about the case?” Sarah’s dad asked. “Seems unusual on Christmas Eve.”

“No . . . not that,” Joe said, again looking to Sarah. Once again she gave him a subtle shake of her head.

“I’ll be back in a while,” Sarah said, stripping off her apron and handing it to her mother. She grabbed a coat from the rack by the door. “I won’t be gone too long. Just . . . some things we need to discuss.”

“Are we supposed to ask him to dinner?” Sarah’s mother asked her, as if Joe weren’t standing right there.

“Um . . . sure,” Sarah said. “Joe?”

“Sounds nice,” he said. “Thank you.”

Sarah gave him a look that she hoped conveyed how surrealistic the whole situation felt. Joe simply smiled back.

“So . . . shall we go?” she asked. She didn’t wait for his answer, but already headed for his car parked at the curb.

Joe waited until they were out of earshot before muttering, “I take it you haven’t mentioned me yet?”

“No, I was going to get to that.”

“Or the fact that we’re not working on that case anymore?”

“That, too,” Sarah said.

“Liked your apron, by the way.”

“Watch it, Burke.”

“How’s that Audi?” Sarah’s father called from the door.

“Generally all right,” Joe said, turning around to face him. “Tail lights keep going out, though.”

“Probably the electrical,” Sarah’s father said.

“Probably so.”

“You should get that looked at.”

“Yes, sir,” Joe answered. “I will.”

He opened Sarah’s door for her, no doubt feeling her parents’ eyes still boring into his back, then he came around and got in and started the car. Sarah waved to her parents and Joe gave them a friendly nod.

“Your dad’s not going back in the house to get his shotgun now, is he?”

“Nah, he’s more of a bare-knuckle fighter.”

“Good,” Joe said. “Then I have a chance.”

She suppressed her laughter until they drove away.

“Joe, what are you doing here?”

“Hold that thought.” He cruised one more block before parking and shutting off the motor. Then he unbuckled his seatbelt, popped the release on Sarah’s, and pulled her toward him for a proper greeting.

It had only been a little more than twenty-four hours since they last saw each other, but she didn’t mind showing she missed him. And there was something wickedly appealing about steaming up his windows on a street in her old neighborhood.

“Are you here to steal me away from my parents and seduce me?” Sarah asked.

“Would you like me to?”

“Obviously.” The Audi wasn’t made for full makeout maneuvers, but they did their best.

When finally Sarah realized he probably shouldn’t have his hand up her sweatshirt and inside her now unclasped bra while little kids skateboarded by, she slid away from him and readjusted her clothes.

“Seriously,” she said, breathing a little too hard, “do you have a hotel room? Because I can probably be gone for an hour.”

Joe started up the car.

***

She had gotten so used to checking into hotels, she almost gave the clerk her name before Joe stepped up and asked for a room.

“How many nights, sir?” the clerk said.

Joe looked at Sarah. “Two, I think.”

Sarah lifted her eyebrows. “So this isn’t a quick drive-by, huh? You’re actually here to spend Christmas with me?”

“Do you mind?”

“Yeah, Burke, I mind.” She slipped her hand into his and leaned against him.

She felt almost giddy on their way to his room. It was like their first date out in public, back at that Italian restaurant in Seattle. Eons ago.

“You know, I meant to ask you something,” Sarah said as they walked up the single flight of stairs. “Remember how you said you always booked a hotel room someplace else from me? But you didn’t. I know you stayed at my hotel when I was sick—you said something about it.”

“I moved over there,” Joe said. “To take care of you.”

Sarah shook her head. “Why was I still mad at you after that?”

“Probably because you have a good memory,” Joe said.

He was just about to sweep his key card when Sarah remembered something else.

“I don’t have a gift for you here. It’s back in my apartment.”

“No, it’s not,” Joe answered as he opened his door and pulled her into the room.

A laugh barely escaped her lips before Joe’s mouth overtook them. Sarah liked him like this: hungry for her, happy, his hands already searching for bare skin and ridding her of her clothes. She’d made love to him in so many moods and under so many circumstances, but so far this was her recurring favorite: joyful and guilt-free. She didn’t miss sneaking around at all.

Unless, she thought for a brief moment, that counted keeping Joe a secret from her parents.

She pressed her palms flat against his chest and made him stop what he was doing. Even though what he was doing was so unbelievably good.

“I have to tell them tonight.”

“Okay.”

“We both have to tell them.”

“Right.” Then he hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her laughing to the bed.

***

They lay sprawled and sweaty, limbs tangled and relaxed, while Sarah rehearsed what they should say.

“Mom, Dad, Joe and I have something to tell you—”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“They don’t know me. They don’t want to hear anything from me. It’s all got to come from you.”

She groaned, but she knew he was right.

“Mom, Dad, I have some . . . pretty interesting news.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Sarah said. “Okay, fine. You come up with something and I’ll criticize it.”

“Mom, Dad,” he began, “Joe’s the greatest man I’ve ever met in my life, and I’ve agreed to marry him.”

“Ha, ha. Try again.”

“Mom, Dad, Joe flew back from his father’s house and then drove all the way out here so he could propose to me today, and I said yes, because I love him more than anything and want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

Sarah turned her head just enough to give Joe a single arched eyebrow. “Mothers don’t appreciate it when you joke about that.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Henley,” Joe tried again, “I love your daughter more than anyone on this earth, and I would be honored if you would accept me as her husband.”

Sarah rolled halfway up on top of him so she could look him in both eyes. She drilled a finger into his chest. “Burke, I’m not kidding. This isn’t funny. You don’t joke about stuff like that. My parents will have you on a skewer.”

“If I’m joking, or if I’m telling the truth?”

“If you’re joking,” Sarah said, “then I’ll have your head on a skewer.”

Joe gently wrapped his hand around the finger sticking into his chest. “Sarah, I’m not joking.”

She stared at him with steely eyes, then rolled all the way on top of him. She pinned his thighs beneath her knees and pushed her palms against his shoulders. Hovering over him now on all fours, like a dog who had flattened an intruder, she dipped her face down just an inch from his. All that was missing was the growl.

“This is your proposal?” she demanded.

“Yep.”

“This is what you came up with while you drove to Fontana?”

“No, it sounded a lot better in the car.”

A laugh erupted from her chest. “Well, let’s hear that one!”

Now Joe was laughing, too. “Come on, Red, don’t make me beg.”

“Beg? I just want a decent proposal, man! Give it to me!”

“Sarah Henley, love of my life, will you please consent to marry me?”

“I’ll think about it!”

She rolled off of him and pulled him with her. He covered her slim body with his.

“Sarah Henley,” he said, smoothing the hair away from her temple and planting a soft kiss on her cheek, “please marry me. I love you.”

“Much better,” she said. She wrapped her arms around his waist and made sure as much of him was against as much of her. “I love you, Joe. Yes, I will marry you. I love you. Let’s get married.”

“I don’t have a ring.”

“Oh!” she cried, throwing up her hands in mock exasperation. “What happened to Mr. Strategy? Mr. I-Always-Plan-Ten-Moves-Ahead?”

“Yeah, well I need to discuss that with you,” Joe answered, suddenly more serious than she expected. “That’s the other reason I’m here. Something’s come up.”