Under the Millionaire's Mistletoe (17 page)

She walked up to Luke, lifted the mistletoe she'd
pulled from the Christmas tree and held it above his head. Stretching up onto her tiptoes, she kissed him, joining her mouth to his, trying to put a forewarning of her love into the tenderness of her kiss.

His arms slid obligingly around her waist, he angled his head to deepen the kiss. She could almost give in to the temptation of just this, being held in his arms. But she needed more. She broke the kiss, stepped back and out of his hold. “Mark, I want to talk to my husband. Alone.” She kept her gaze on Luke, he met it steadily, emotions in his eyes she didn't dare interpret and a glimmer of wry amusement at her demand.

“I was just going. I'll see myself out.” Mark's voice reached her seconds before he shut the office door quietly behind him. Leaving her alone with Luke.

For the longest time she stared at him, he was everything to her; he was the man she loved. She just had to tell him that.

She took a deep breath and pointed to his desk. “I won't sign those papers.”

He frowned and his gaze flicked to the desk.

“I don't care what you're offering. I want more. I want you. I'm not going to let you shut me out of your life because you don't want to need anyone. It doesn't work that way. You need me. You just don't know it. And I…I need you. I love you. You might not be ready for that yet, but you have to give it, me, a chance.”

Luke closed the distance she'd tried to establish and pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. He eased the mistletoe from her fingers, held it above her head and sliding his finger from her lips, replaced it with his mouth, looped his arms once more around her.

Too soon he broke the kiss. “I don't want you to sign those papers.”

“You don't?”

“No.” He shook his head and a smile touched his lips. “They're to do with Jason. Not you. Not us.”

“But I thought…Mark…he wasn't here because of me, because of you wanting a divorce?”

“We did discuss you.”

“And?”

“I told him we'd slept together.”

“And?”

“And I told him I love you, which was wrong of me.”

Because it wasn't the truth? Her jaw clenched with the force of suppressed emotion.

He stroked his thumbs over her cheeks. “Because you should have been the first one I told.” He brushed a kiss across her lips. “It wasn't until Mark walked in that I was forced to contemplate a Meg-less existence. The prospect was dreadful. From the first moment I saw you, I knew you were somehow necessary to me. I didn't realize how or why, but I do now. I want you in my life, my home, my heart. Always. If you'll have me.”

Meg nodded, her throat too clogged to speak.

“Is that a yes?”

She nodded again.

He lifted his hands to her face, his silver eyes glittering with emotion. “Hi, honey, we're home,” he said. And then, finally, he kissed her.