Page 27 of Blitzing Emily

“You worry too much,” he assured her. He patted her hand. “Maybe we should start with something easy. What year did you graduate from high school?”

“Excuse me? You’re trying to find out how old I am.” Brandon didn’t seem to notice, but Emily saw a few of the other diners, primarily men, gesturing toward their table and commenting. He must be used to it.

“Of course I am,” he assured her with exaggerated patience.

“It’s on the piece of paper.” To Emily’s horror, he tore her painstakingly composed list into four even squares, crumpling them in his hand. She let out a gasp of distress.

“What are you doing?” She tried to keep her voice down. More people turned around.

“There.” He grinned like he’d really accomplished something. “Now we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“Why can’t you—” Emily felt best when there was a list, an action plan, written directions of any kind. She could follow directions. They kept her on track. She could measure her progress. Even more, being in control of herself and her surroundings was comforting, even if she was fairly positive there were many people who thought she needed to take it down several notches.

He stroked Emily’s cheek with one hand. “Relax, sugar. This isn’t brain surgery. We’ll have lunch; we’ll get to know each other. It’ll be fine.” If she could tell him how scary it was for her to feel like things were out of control, it might help, but she’d just met him. Maybe it should wait a little while.

He leaned a little closer “Take a breath,” he prompted. He squeezed her hand. The sommelier arrived at the table. “Mr. McKenna, I thought you might like to try a bottle of Krug.” The bottle was opened. Two glasses were poured, and they were alone again. Well, other than the fact that most of the restaurant seemed to be staring at them by now.

Brandon turned to her. “Let’s have a toast.” He handed a glass to Emily, picked up his own and said, “Toast.” She may have rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but smile at the mischievous expression in his eyes. “Seriously,” he said, looking thoughtful, “Here’s to a successful engagement.”

“To the engagement.” She took a sip. The champagne was wonderful. Brandon dug into his jacket pocket for something.

“I have a confession to make. I borrowed that ring you couldn’t find this morning.” He gave her what she was sure he thought was an apologetic grin. “I—you needed another ring. I stopped at Tiffany’s after I dropped you off. This is for you.”

He put a ring box, wrapped in robin’s egg-blue paper and tied with a white, double-faced satin bow, into her hand. She stared at it in shock for a moment. Obviously if they were supposedly engaged she’d need a ring. But she didn’t realize he was serious about buying one.

“You ‘borrowed’ my ring? Is that what they’re calling it now?” she teased.

Even though she hadn’t spent that much time with him, she could see that he was nervous. She saw a faint flush on his cheekbones. His normally graceful movements were a bit jerky. He swallowed hard, and he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. Suddenly she was nervous, too. This was pretend. It meant nothing. At the same time, how many times in any woman’s life did she hold a ring box?

“I can wear the ring I already have,” she said. He looked bewildered. After all, most women probably didn’t argue with the giver when they saw a box from Tiffany’s. “Are you sure about this?”

“Of course, I’m sure. Go ahead. Open it.”

Emily pulled at one end of the bow, and the ribbon fell away. The paper the box was wrapped in spread out like a star in her hand to reveal another smaller, robin’s egg-blue suede box inside the cardboard one.

“Even the box is beautiful,” she sighed.

He pulled the box open, took the ring out, and slid it onto the third finger of her left hand.

“What do you think?”

He licked his lips. His hand trembled a little. The diamond was very, very large. A round center stone was flanked with pear-shaped diamonds set in platinum. The weight on her finger was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. The diamonds sparkled like they were alive. Even more, the ring looked like it was made especially for her. It was perfect.

She’d be wearing this ring for a month. He’d lost his mind.

“Did you tell them you wanted the biggest one?” she managed to rasp out.

“A diva wouldneedthe biggest one.”

Their eyes locked. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. Emily didn’t know what to say. She finally repeated, “Are you sure?”

There wouldn’t be any romantic words, and he didn’t get down on one knee, but the look in his eyes as he lingered over the back of her hand made Emily’s heart skip a beat. He brushed her knuckles with his lips again. She stifled a gasp.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Brandon.”

“Soft hands, sugar.” He laid her hand back in her lap. She still clutched the little ring box. “So, where were we? You were telling me about your sister.”

“I was not.”

---