Chapter Twenty-nine

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Nick pressed the buzzer for the house on South Street, his heart beating like a hammer. He gripped the bag in his arms and hoped Rosalind would open the door for him.

But her sister, the cat burglar, was the one who answered, minus the odd fedora today.

She leaned in the doorjamb, arms crossed. "If it isn't the lying bastard. This is a surprise."

"So you're the appointed gatekeeper?" he said, shifting the bag to hold out his hand. "Where are the boots?"

She held out a foot encased in a killer heel. "These'll do, trust me."

"I hope I don't find out."

Peering around him, she said, "No Luca?"

"Sorry."

"A shame, but just as well. All he wanted to talk about was Bea." She shrugged. "He was too flashy for my tastes anyway."

"So do you think I can come in?"

"Is Rosalind expecting you?"

"Yes."

"Interesting."

Nick slowed at her tone. "What does that mean?"

"It means she was talking about castrating you last night." She stepped aside and held the door wide open. "Come in, but I'd suggest protecting your assets, especially since you're the face of Calvin Klein."

"Well, really the ass." He pointed down the hall in the direction Rosalind had taken him last time. "The study is that way?"

"Third door on the right." She smirked. "I'd wish you luck, but you need a miracle."

He frowned at her. "You're a sweet girl, you know that?"

"Compared to my other sisters, I really am." Her gaze narrowed dangerously. "So you better tread cautiously."

"Duly warned." He saluted her and walked down the hall. He went to the third door that Portia had pointed out and walked in.

"Who was that?" Rosalind asked from the floor. She sat in the middle of a pile of books, her hair casually piled on top of her head, jeans rolled up and wearing a sweatshirt that dipped off one shoulder.

He stopped in his tracks, overwhelmed by the urge to kiss the nape of her neck, to push her down on the rug and take her right there. To hold her and tell her he loved her and would make it up to her.

"Well?" She looked up and froze when she saw him.

He waited for anger to fill her eyes, for her expression to turn hard, but she just stared at him.

Setting the bag on a table, he exhaled. "I should have known better than get involved with Summerhill women."

Her gaze narrowed, much like Portia's had. "That's how you're going to start grovelling?"

"It's the truth. I grew up with Summer, who never gave up until she got what she wanted. One time, when she was around six, she decided she wanted cake for dinner. Tabitha told her if she didn't eat her dinner, she couldn't have any dessert, so she didn't eat for twenty-four hours, until Tabitha finally gave in the next night."

Rosalind looked away. "You're still not winning any points."

"I get the sense Portia is the same way, as are your other older sisters." He kneeled in front of her. "You're just as wilful, Rosalind."

"I'm not being wilful."

"Yes, you are, because you love me, and you know you have to forgive me."

She lifted her adorable chin. "I have to do no such thing."

"You wouldn't let your stubbornness get in the way of true love." He held up his hand as she began to protest. "It's true, and deep down you know it. But even still, I'm going to prove it to you."

"Really." She lifted her eyebrow caustically.

He leaned in. "You know me. You knew I like to drive fast and that I have a soft spot in my heart for English cars. You knew I wasn't happy at work and wanted to make a career shift. You knew I loved Summer, enough to do anything for her."

Rosalind said nothing.

But she hadn't turned away, and she wasn't protesting. Figuring he was doing as well as could be expected, he dared to take her hand. She stiffened, but didn't draw away, so he continued. "You know I haven't had time to furnish my house and that I want someone to fill it with me. You know I want a family. You know I want you, that I crave you, because even in your anger you can't deny that I showed you this every time I touched you.

"You know I love you," he said, squeezing her hand. "You can argue that I was a bloody idiot by lying, and I was. You would probably even be justified by making me pay for this for the rest of our lives. But you can't say I don't love you."

She shook her head. "I don't know, Nick."

"I do." Letting go of her hand, he reached for the bag and gave it to her. "I know you as well as you know me."

She glanced at him in question before peeking into the bag. She reached in and one by one, pulled each item out, lining them up in front of her.

"I know who you are, and you know me. In your heart, you know exactly who I am." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, her cheek, and then placed a soft kiss on her inert lips. "I love you, Rosalind."

He paused a moment, but he knew she wouldn't say anything. He nodded and stood up. "You'll want to think about this and explore all the angles before coming to a conclusion."

"Will I?" she murmured, looking at the things piled in front of her.

"For all your creativity, you aren't impulsive. You mull things over." He smiled, sticking his hands in his pockets. "It's okay. Good things are worth waiting for."

It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, to turn and walk away. For a moment, he almost went back to toss her over his shoulder and carry her off, like Luca thought he should do.

But he had to give her space. He had to trust that she'd forgive him and come back to him.

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