Page 132 of Consummation

“Well, the male equivalent of a Carolina Herrera dress and diamonds would be an Italian sports car—which I already have. But, don’t worry, you’ve already given me something ten times better than that.”

Kat lifts her head, apparently about to say something, but yawns, instead.

“Damn, you’re hard to impress,” I say.

She giggles. “Sorry. It’s been an exciting day. I’m duly impressed, I assure you.”

I open my arms to her and pat my heart. “Lay your cheek right here, beautiful. Close your eyes for a bit.”

Kat nuzzles into my chest. “Where are we headed?” she asks groggily.

“God, you’re a terrible listener,” I say, stroking her hair.

Kat purrs like a kitten against my chest and in less than a minute, her head droops like a dead weight. I shift in my seat, trying to make her more comfortable, but, inadvertently startle her awake, instead.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say. “I was trying to make you more comfortable. Go back to sleep, babe. I won’t move.”

“How long ’til we get wherever we’re going?” she asks, her voice thick with drowsiness. “Do I have time to sleep?”

“How much longer ’til we reach our destination?” I ask the limo driver.

“About thirty minutes, sir, depending on traffic,” the driver says.

“Plenty of time for a little nap, hot momma,” I say. “Go for it.”

Kat rests her cheek against me again. “I think I will, if that’s okay—just for a few minutes.”

Twenty seconds later, Kat’s out like a light, passed out with her cheek against my heart, her little belly underneath her red gown rising and falling evenly with every breath she takes. When I’m sure Kat’s deeply asleep, I tilt her face up to mine and stare at her stunning features, marveling at God’s handiwork. I trace the line of one of her bold eyebrows with my fingertip, brush the back of my hand against her cheekbone, stare for a long moment at her perfectly formed lips.

As evil as Kat’s startling beauty is when she’s awake, her face is actually quite angelic when she sleeps. This isn’t the face of a woman who’d blindside me, is it? After everything that’s passed between Kat and me since my first god-awful proposal, Kat wouldn’t shatter me by turning me down for a second time, would she?

My stomach flips over. If by some shocking turn of events Kat was actually telling the truth when she said she wouldn’t marry me if I were the last man on earth, if she truly doesn’t want all the “hoopla” of a wedding, if marriage truly isn’t something she yearns for in the depths of her soul—or, at least, not marriage withme—then I truly don’t think I’d survive the rejection.

My phone buzzes with an incoming text and I pull it out of my pocket.

“The eagle has landed,” Henn writes. “The fucker’s at his house. Go straight there. No Plan B required.”

“Well, how considerate of him to be home in time for my visit,” I write.

“Can you talk?” Henn writes.

I look down at Kat. Her mouth is hanging open and she’s drooling. “Calling now,” I write.

“Yo,” Henn says when he picks up my call.

“Nice of the bastard to be sitting at home, waiting for me,” I reply softly.

“He’s always home at this time of day after a round of golf at the country club. But just to make double-damn sure he was gonna be there for you today, hemighthave received a VIP-invitation to a live chat with his favorite porn star.Wink.”

“Fucking genius.”

“So I’ve been told. How close are you?”

I glance at Kat, making sure she’s not overhearing any of this, and she’s snoozing like she’s been cold-cocked. “We’re in the limo now,” I say quietly. “I’d say we’re about fifteen minutes out.”

“Cool. The dude’s not going anywhere. He’s watching a gangbang-bukkake-porno on his iPad while simultaneously live-chatting with a porn star on his laptop.”

“He’s double-fisting porn?” I ask.

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