Page 40 of The Redemption of Remy St. Claire

“We tell it like it is. We met when you became Calleigh’s nanny, and we realized we were meant to be together.”

‘You mean lie?”

“Is it a lie? You said you were thinking long-term. You told me you planned to stick around until the girls start high school. Why not make it legal?”

“You’d do that? For me?”

“And for Mira.”

Her expression darkened, and her eyes were somber.

“She’s the innocent in this. You’re right she needs protection, and a united front is the best way to do it.”

This idea was crazy—and yet it made sense. A plan coalesced in his mind. “What about love?”

“Love?” Confusion shrouded her features as her brow furrowed. “What about love?”

“Shouldn’t we at least say we’re in love? Otherwise, it looks like we’re doing this for the girls.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear.

That was her tell. When she was nervous, she tucked her hair behind her ears. Subtle, to be sure. Probably so subtle, she didn’t even realize it. What was his tell? How’d she known it upset him? Did it even matter? She’d known. Just like he knew how to read her. They’d spent the last four weeks getting to know each other. So what if the marriage wouldn’t be based on love? He’d tried that and look where it’d gotten him. In a world of trouble—truth be told. Plus, there was a bonus. She’d take care of Mira if anything happened to him, and he’d care for Calleigh if, God forbid, something happened to her.

She still hadn’t responded to his objection about love, but he hadn’t really expected her to.

In for a penny…

“I accept.”

“Accept?” Her voice had a breathy quality to it, catching in her throat.

He moved, bending down on one knee, and grasping her hand. “If we’re going to do this, then let’s do it right. I’m a bit of a traditionalist.” He squeezed her hand. “Will you, Remy St. Claire, do me the honor of marrying me?”

Her blush was quick and endearing. Her hesitation was momentary. “Yes, I’d be honored to marry you.”

He stood, pulling her up. “May I kiss you to seal the deal?”

Uncertainty clouded her features, and he feared he’d overplayed his hand.

Then, just like that, her face lit with a beautiful smile. “Yes, you may kiss me.”

He raised his hand to cup her cheek and she leaned into it. Endearingly, her eyes drifted shut when he lowered his head and angled his lips against hers.

A chaste kiss. That was his plan. But when he felt her soft lips, he lingered. When she sighed, her lips parted and, red-blooded man that he was, he took advantage. He deepened the kiss, teasing her lips to open farther. She seemed surprised when he slid his tongue across hers. He would’ve pulled back, but she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him forward.

Her reaction was unschooled and awkward—but her response was genuine. Without thought, he pulled her against him.

And just like that, she tensed. He pulled away immediately, giving her space.

She stepped back farther, placing her fingers to her lips.

Her eyes were passion glazed and her cheeks flushed with color.

“I’m sorry.”

She tilted her head in question.

“I got a little overexuberant.”

---