Page 130 of Consummation

“You sure?”

“Yep. I’m fine. I’m ready.”

“You gonna barf if I open this box?”

I shake my head.

“I really like these shoes, Kat,” Josh warns. “These are Stefano Bemer shoes, babe—pleasedon’t barf on them.”

“Ooh la la—Stefano Bemers,” I say, even though I’ve never heard that name in my entire life. “I’d never barf onStefanoBemershoes, baby. I respect Mr. Bemer too freaking much.”

Josh laughs. “Okay. Here we go.” He opens the box, and, instantly, I’m a goddamned fucking wreck. If my necklace is abeachside condo, then the behemoth of a diamond bracelet sitting inside that velvet box is atleasta convertible Porsche.

“Oh myGod!” I shriek, tears pricking my eyes.

Josh pulls the bracelet out of the box and clasps it to my wrist. “I love you, Kat,” he whispers. He wraps me in a huge hug and kisses my tear-soaked cheeks.

“It’s too much,” I mumble into Josh’s lips. “Oh my God, Josh. You can’t do this. I’m not worthy.”

Josh pulls back sharply from me, his eyes on fire. “Don’t say that,” he grits out, his voice spiking with sudden intensity. “Never, ever say that—do you understand me?”

My breath catches in my throat. I’d only meant that phrase as a figure of speech, kind of like fromWayne’s World—“We’re not worthy! We’re not worthy!” Although, of course, I’m trulynotworthy. Who couldpossiblybe worthy of this kind of extravagance?

Josh cups my face in his large hands, heat wafting off him, his eyes burning. “You’re my Pretty Woman and I’m your Bodyguard, Kat. You’re the great love of my life and the mother of my future daughter.” He presses himself into me and the hard bulge between us feels like it was forged in a steel factory. “Babe, have you been listening to meat all? You’reminenow.Forever.Mine, all mine. And I’m not just some normal, boring guy—I’mJosh Fucking Faraday.And that means you gotta bedrippingin fucking diamonds when you’re on my arm.” He slaps my ass, making me jump. “Now, come on, babe. Time to get your tight little ass onto that plane. I’m hard as a rock and ready to initiate my Party Girl with a Hyphen into the mile-high club.”

Thirty-Seven

Josh

“Oooooh, awhitelimo,” Kat says, settling herself into the backseat. She shoots me a snarky smile. “Just like in the final scene ofPretty Woman.”

“Ssh,” I say, pulling the skirt of Kat’s gown out from under my thigh as I scoot closer to her in the back seat. “This ismytop fantasy—not yours, baby. You’re here toreact,not to try to figure things out.”

“Okay, well, myreactionis, ‘Hey, you arranged a white limo just like that awesome final scene inPretty Woman.’”

I roll my eyes. “Smart-ass.”

Kat grins.

I glance through the rear window of the limo just in time to see our driver closing the trunk. My stomach somersaults with excitement.This is it.

The driver walks along the length of the limo and settles into his seat up front.

“You got everything into the trunk?” I ask, referring to more than just our overnight bags.

“Yes, sir,” the driver says. “Everything’s there.” He winks.

“Fantastic,” I say. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

The limo begins to pull away.

“Where are we going?” Kat asks, looking out the car window at the small airport we’re leaving behind.

“Are you hungry, Party Girl?” I ask, completely ignoring her question. “There’s a platter here—fruit, cheese, tapenade, crackers, prosciutto.”

“Oh, God, yes. Thank you. I’mstarving.” Kat begins literallystuffing food into her mouth like her very life depends on it. After a moment, she giggles at herself. “Dude, I’m in full Homer-Simpson mode,” she says. “Nom nom nom. I can’t control myself.”

“The kumquat’s really hungry, huh?” I ask.

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