wanders back into the great room, leaving José and me at the entrance.

Wow! Left alone with José.

“Well, goodnight.” José looks uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“Goodnight, José, and thank you for staying.”

“Sure, Ana. Any time your rich, hotshot boyfriend goes missing—I’ll be there.”

“José!” I admonish him.

“Only kidding. Don’t get mad. I’ll be leaving early in the morning—I’ll see you some-

time, yeah? I’ve missed you.”

“Sure, José. Soon I hope. Sorry tonight was so . . . shitty.” I smirk apologetically.

“Yeah.” He grins. “Shitty.” He hugs me. “Seriously, Ana, I’m glad you’re happy, but

I’m here if you need me.”

I gaze up at him. “Thank you.”

He flashes me a sad, bittersweet smile, and then he goes upstairs.

I turn back to the great room. Christian stands beside the couch, watching me with an

unreadable expression on his face. We’re finally alone and we gaze at each other.

“He’s still got it bad, you know,” he murmurs.

“And how would you know that, Mr. Grey?”

“I recognize the symptoms, Miss Steele. I believe I have the same affliction.”

“I thought I’d never see you again,” I whisper. There—the words are out. All my worst

fears packaged neatly in one short sentence now exorcised.

“It wasn’t as bad as it sounds.”

I pick up his suit jacket and shoes from where they lie on the floor and move toward

him.“I’ll take that,” he whispers, reaching for his jacket.

Christian gazes down at me as if I’m his reason for living and mirrors my look, I’m

sure. He is here, really here. He pulls me into his arms and wraps himself around me.

“Christian,” I gasp, and my tears start anew.

“Hush,” he soothes, kissing my hair. “You know . . . in the few seconds of sheer terror

before I landed, all my thoughts were of you. You’re my talisman, Ana.”

“I thought I’d lost you,” I breathe. We stand, holding each other, reconnecting and reas-

suring each other. As I tighten my arms around him, I realize I’m still holding his shoes. I

drop them noisily to the floor.

“Come and shower with me,” he murmurs.

“Okay.” I glance up at him. I don’t want to let go. Reaching down he tilts my chin up

with his fingers.

“You know even tear-stained, you are beautiful, Ana Steele.” He leans down and kisses

me gently. “And your lips are so soft.” He kisses me again, deepening it.

Oh my . . . and to think, I could have lost . . . no . . .I stop thinking and surrender myself.

“I need to put my jacket down,” he murmurs.

“Drop it,” I murmur against his lips.

“I can’t.”

I lean back to gaze up at him, puzzled.

He smirks at me. “This is why.” From the inside breast pocket he pulls out the small

box I gave him, containing my present. He slings the jacket over the back of the couch and

places the box on top.

Seize the day, Ana,my subconscious prods me. Well, it’s after midnight, so technically

it’s his birthday.

“Open it,” I whisper, and my heart starts pounding.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he murmurs. “This has been driving me crazy.”

I grin impishly at him. Jeez, I feel giddy. He gives me his shy smile, and I melt despite

my thumping heart, delighting in his amused yet intrigued expression. With deft long fin-

gers, he unwraps and opens the box. His brow creases as he fishes out a small, rectangular,

plastic keychain bearing a picture made up of tiny pixels that flash on and off like an LED

screen. It depicts the Seattle skyline, focusing on the Space Needle, with the word SE-

ATTLE written boldly across the landscape, flashing on and off.

He stares at it for a moment and then gazes at me bemused, a frown marring his lovely

brow.“Turn it over,” I whisper, holding my breath.

He does, and his eyes shoot to mine, wide and gray, alive with wonder and joy. His lips

part in disbelief.

The word yesflashes on and off on the key ring.

“Happy birthday,” I whisper.

“You’ll marry me?” he whispers, incredulous.

I nod nervously, flushing and anxious and not quite believing his reaction—this man

whom I thought I’d lost. How could he not understand how much I love him?

“Say it,” he orders softly, his gaze intense and hot.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He inhales sharply and moves suddenly, grabbing me and swinging me round in a most

un-Fiftylike manner. He’s laughing, young and carefree, radiating joyful elation. I grab his

arms to hold on, feeling his muscles ripple beneath my fingers, and his infectious laughter

sweeps me up—dizzy, addled, a girl totally and utterly smitten with her beautiful man. He

puts me down and kisses me. Hard. His hands are on either side of my face, his tongue

insistent, persuasive . . . arousing.

“Oh, Ana,” he breathes against my lips, and it’s an exultation that leaves me reeling.

He loves me, of that I have no doubt, and I savor the taste of this delicious man, this man I

thought I might never see again. His joy is evident—his eyes shining, his youthful smile—

and his relief is almost palpable.

“I thought I’d lost you,” I murmur, still dazzled and breathless from his kiss.

“Baby, it will take more than a malfunctioning 135 to keep me away from you.”

“135?”

“Charlie Tango. She’s a Eurocopter 135, the safest in its class.” Some unnamed but

dark emotion crosses his face briefly, distracting me. What isn’t he saying? Before I can

ask him, he stills and looks down at me, frowning, and for a moment I think he’s going to

tell me. I blink up into his speculative gray eyes.

“Wait a minute. You gave this to me before we saw Flynn,” he says, holding up the

keychain. He looks almost horrified.

Oh dear, where’s he going with this? I nod, keeping a straight face.

His mouth drops open.

I shrug apologetically. “I wanted you to know that whatever Flynn said, it wouldn’t

make a difference to me.”

Christian blinks at me in disbelief. “So all yesterday evening, when I was begging you

for an answer, I had it already?” He’s dismayed. I nod again, trying desperately to gauge

his reaction. He gazes at me in stupefied wonder, but then narrows his eyes and his mouth

twists with amused irony.

“All that worry,” he whispers ominously. I grin at him and shrug once more. “Oh, don’t

try and get cute with me, Miss Steele. Right now, I want . . .” He runs his hand through his

hair, then shakes his head and changes tack.

“I can’t believe you left me hanging.” His whisper is laced with disbelief. His expres-

sion alters subtly, his eyes gleaming wickedly, his mouth twitching into a carnal smile.

Holy hell. A thrill runs through me. What’s he thinking?

“I believe some retribution is in order, Miss Steele,” he says softly.

Retribution? Oh shit!I know he’s playing—but I take a cautious step back from him

anyway.

He grins. “Is that the game?” he whispers. “Because I will catch you.” And his eyes

burn with a bright playful intensity. “And you’re biting your lip,” he says threateningly.

All of my insides tighten at once. Oh my.My future husband wants to play. I take an-

other step back, then turn to run—but in vain. Christian grabs me, and in one easy swoop

while I squeal with delight, surprise, and shock. He hoists me over his shoulder and heads

down the hall.

“Christian!” I hiss, mindful that José is upstairs, though whether he could hear us is

doubtful. I steady myself by clasping his lower back, then on a brave impulse, I swat his

behind. He swats me right back.

“Ow!” I yelp.