Murphy's Law Page 17
Garrett had other ideas. He tickled Murphy's ribs until she squealed and, batting his hand away, said, “Okay, okay. Stop tickling me and I promise I won't think whatever you're going to say is stupid.” She then amended jokingly, “At least I won't tell you if I do. Fair enough?”
He nodded, his expression serious. “Look, sweetheart, I understand why you won't accept the necklace. I won't press it on you if you don't want it. But there is something else I want you to have.”
“All right,” Murphy said with forced neutrality. Was he going to try to give her another piece of jewelry that she couldn't accept? Or, maybe, a compliment, which she could—most willingly.
Garrett shifted, and the nylon duffel bag crinkled as he rummaged inside it with his free hand.
A muffled thump said he'd found what he was looking for and dropped the duffel bag to the floor.
An offended yowl said the bag had landed on Moonshine.
The cat leapt to the sofa beside Murphy, wandering onto her lap as though to get a better view of what was about to transpire.
Murphy glanced up, her intention the same as the cat's. What did Garrett want to give her now? And how on earth was she going to refuse him a second time? Her gaze dipped to his hands, and her breath caught.
Pinched between Garrett's index finger and thumb was a ring.
The circumference of the gold band indicated it was meant for a woman's delicate finger. Set in center was a three-quarter carat diamond; the exquisite, multi-facetted gem caught and reflected the muted twilight until it sparkled. Like the pearls, the setting was in need of polishing; intricately carved gold indicated the ring was very old.
Her heartbeat accelerated when he took her right hand and, one by one, opened her fingers from the fist she'd clenched them in. He placed the ring in the center of her palm, then in the same manner, one by one, wrapped her fingers around it. She could feel the heat of the ring brand her skin, while at the same time the sentimental value of it branded her heart.
“My grandfather gave this ring to my grandmother the night he proposed.”
“Garrett, please…” Murphy said weakly, shakily. “I can't accept it. This ring should be passed down through your family. It's something for your sisters, for their daughters, for their daughter's daughters, to remember your grandparents by.”
Her attention, which had been focused on her fist, still clenching the ring, lifted. Her gaze meshed with Garrett's. His eyes were dark and probing.
“I promise you, sweetheart, it will be passed down to future Thayers. It just won't be passed down through my sisters.” When Murphy looked at him in askance, Garrett sucked in a deep breath, then added throatily, “I want to pass it down to my children, and theirs. I…Christ, Murphy, I never in my life imagined I'd be sitting in my underwear when I…oh, hell!”
Murphy gulped. If she'd trusted her voice to speak, she would have. Instead, she waited for him to continue.
Eventually, he did. Looking into her eyes, he said, “I want those children to be ours. I want—that is, you said in Greenville that if things between us had gone normal, and your life was in order, that—Damn it, this is coming out all wrong. What I'm trying to say is…”
“Yes?” she prompted breathlessly.
“Will you marry me?”
It was a good thing she was sitting; Murphy's felt abruptly dizzy, her knees too watery to support her weight. Her mind raced.
Had she heard him correctly? Had Garrett just proposed to her? He had! And this time a refusal was not the reply that sprang to mind.
A lump formed in her throat, and she felt her eyes sting—neither reaction could be traced to the lingering scent of roses and she knew it.
“Well?” he asked anxiously when she didn't respond, but sat there staring up at him, her green eyes wide and stunned. “I'll warn you, being a cop's wife is no picnic. My hours are strange, my job is dangerous—well, sometimes; guess I lied to you about that. Being a cop's wife is scary and frustrating…or so I've been told repeatedly by my partner's wife. You need to know all this up front, before you give me an answer.”
“Right,” she said, dazed.
Moonshine had curled up in a ball atop her lap; with her free hand, trembling fingers stroked his tummy. The cat purred loudly, as though to let her know he was highly amused by what was going on around him.
Murphy's grip on the ring tightened. A corner of the diamond bit into her palm. It was not an unpleasant feeling. “You barely know me, Garrett,” she said once she trusted her voice to speak.
“I knew you intimately two hours ago.”
“That's not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant. Time-wise, we haven't known each other long,” he said as he buried his fingers in her hair and pulled her temptingly close. Their mouths were a fraction of an inch apart; close enough to feel the heat of his lips against hers. “I feel like I've known you all my life.”
Murphy couldn't argue with that. She'd felt the same…well, almost since Garrett had regained consciousness back in Dana's bed. Definitely since she'd decided to trust him and believe his story about being a cop, and not the thief she'd originally suspected.
A bond had been forged between them. Maybe it was the product of two people living through a desperate situation, but she didn't think so. If it had been, in the last three weeks she may have been touched occasionally by concern, however that couldn't explain why her thoughts had rarely drifted from the way Garrett's eyes sparkled when he smiled, the way one corner of his mouth quirked up when he grinned, the way…
I love him.
The realization hit Murphy with enough force to push the air from her lungs and make her heartbeat stammer. When had it happened? She didn't know, didn't care. Whatever the timing, the fact remained; crazy as it was, she did love him. She loved him very much.
Only now did she suspect that the first seeds of love had been planted the moment she'd thought about driving away that day three weeks ago, only to realize she couldn't leave him. It had started then…and in the hours, then weeks, that followed her feelings for him had blossomed. Instead of fading, they'd been made more pronounced by separation.
It was a separation Murphy couldn't bare to think about enduring again. Her life had been empty without Garrett Thayer to fill it. Her life would continue to be empty unless she took a chance right now and listened to her heart.
Her trembling fingers slowly uncurled from around the ring. Removing it from the bed of her palm, she stared at it, contemplating briefly all the feelings and responsibility this small, solitary piece of jewelry represented.
Her insides felt warm and tight in a way they never had before.
She hesitated, swallowed hard…then slipped the ring onto the third finger of her left hand.
Unlike the diamond itself, the fit wasn't flawless. The ring was a bit large. Yet the acceptance of Garrett's proposal and the sudden, overwhelming desire to spend the rest of her life with this man couldn't have fit Murphy better.
Garrett's smile lit up the room. He hauled her so closely against him that she wondered if he was trying to melt her body into his. If so, she wouldn't utter a word of protest.
“God I love you, Murphy. I'll make you happy. I promise I will,” he whispered as he buried his face in her hair.
“That's one promise I'll hold you to,” she said on a contented sigh, her voice as thick with emotion as his.
Moonshine meowed. Murphy thought that if cats could talk—and this one certainly had his own way of communicating—this meow meant that if Garrett didn't uphold his promise, he'd have one angry feline to answer to. Which reminded her…
“Garrett?”
“Hmmm?”
“You're allergic to cats.”
“I know.”
“That's a problem.”
“It is?”
“Yes. Aside from my brother, Moonshine is the only family I've ever had.” Feeling Garrett's tension, Murphy added, “I don't think I could part with him.”
<
br /> Garrett's answer was a long time in coming—to an anxious Murphy, it seemed to take forever before he finally spoke. “Not even if I asked you to?”
After a thoughtful minute slipped past, she countered his question with one of her own. “Are you? Asking me to find another home for Moonshine, that is?”
“No.”
“But your allergy—”
Garrett pulled back. Cupping Murphy's cheeks in his hands, he braced his forehead lightly against hers. “Do you trust me, sweetheart?” She nodded unhesitantly, and he smiled. “And do you remember when I said the problem is being taken care of?” She nodded again. “Then here's the answer to that question I never got around to. I started getting allergy shots when I was in the hospital in Bangor. It won't cure my allergy, but it will make it livable.”
She blinked. Hard. Twice. “So it isn't a problem?”
He shook his head and scratched the cat behind one of his chocolate tipped ears; Moonshine purred delightedly and arched into the touch. “Sweetheart, I'd never ask you to give Moonshine up. Besides, I've grown kind of fond of him.” Garrett's gaze returned to Murphy, and his blue eyes shimmered with unsuppressed passion. “And you. I've grown very fond of you.”
Angling his head, his lips claiming hers for a kiss that was long and deep and wonderful. It left them both feeling hot and restless.
“I love you,” Murphy whispered against his mouth. “More than I ever thought possible.”
“I love you, too,” Garrett replied huskily. He claimed her lips again, as though he couldn't stop kissing her. Or touching her. Or holding her.
That was fine by Murphy. She didn't want him to stop. Not now. Not ever. Her body burned from his recent possession, and burned with the equally strong need to be possessed by him again.
In her lap, Moonshine yawned, then purred his approval.
After a few minutes, as though bored from lack of human attention, he jumped to the floor. He was padding into the kitchen, heading for the half-eaten bowl of tuna he'd abandoned earlier, when he heard the bedroom door open and close.
This time he waited a good long while to start scratching and yowling at the door. After all, even a demanding feline such as himself respected the need for human privacy. Sometimes.
Rebecca Sinclair
Murphy's Law #101: Never title your 13th published novel MURPHY'S LAW, have it consist of exactly 13 chapters, and expect ANYTHING about it to go smoothly….
Rebecca Sinclair learned the hard way; she'll think long and hard before ever doing so again!
After publishing 12 critically acclaimed historical romances with Zebra Books, Rebecca is thrilled to see the release of MURPHY'S LAW, her first short contemporary romance novel, from Hard Shell Word Factory. Set in her birth-state of Maine, the book centers around a heroine who is almost as well versed in Murphy's Laws as Rebecca is herself.
When not busy fending off one disaster or another, Rebecca enjoys spending time with her husband, Fidel, and her two teenage children, Courtney and Adam. Refinishing antique furniture and restoring her turn-of-the-century house on the Southern New England coast are two of her favorite hobbies. She is also the founder and primary webmaster for eclectics.com (http://www.eclectics.com), a popular Website for readers featuring home pages for more than 50 published authors.
After indulging in a two year sabbatical from writing, Rebecca is currently hard at work on her next novel—a book that she is determined will have MORE than 13 chapters and not a single Murphy's Law!
Copyright 1999, Rebecca Sinclair
ISBN: 1-4201-1147-7
Cover art copyright 1999, Patty
Published September 1999 by
Hard Shell Word Factory
PO Box 161
Amherst Jct. WI 54407
books@hardshell.com
http://www.hardshell.com
All electronic rights reserved.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatever to anyone bearing the same name or names. These characters are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.