Love Starts with Elle(4)

“Yes, but”—he swung her into his arms—“you don’t have to cook.”

“Please tell me you’re not cooking.” She laughed against his chest. The first and last time Jeremiah cooked for Elle he served his house specialty, mac-n-cheese with cut-up hot dogs.

“Never fear.” He fastened his arm around her waist and walked with her to the back porch. “Close your eyes.”

“Close my eyes?”

“Yes, close your eyes.”

Elle made a face. She didn’t liked surprises. “Okay, but I’m counting to ten, then opening them.”

“Give me twenty.”

Standing with her eyes closed, she could hear Jeremiah fumbling around, running across the sun-washed boards muttering, “Hot, hot, hot.” She heard the scrape of a match, followed by the kitchen door opening, then banging shut. The aroma of tomato sauce and garlic bread. Her stomach rumbled.

“What are you doing?” Twenty seconds had passed.

“Okay, open them.”

When she did, Elle found her back porch warm and inviting with hundreds of white lights twinkling around a crystal-and-china-set table for two.

“Jeremiah, this is beautiful.” She peeked under the foil-covered plates, her pulse racing. Arlene had one thing right: something was up.

“The lasagna is courtesy of Mrs. Marks.” Jeremiah held out a chair draped with a blanket. “For you.”

Elle sat though she floated. “If this is what Arlene is sad about, I’m most certainly not.”

Jeremiah knelt next to her, eye to eye. When his lips met hers, Elle’s heart throbbed in her throat, against her temples. Her senses were addicted to him.

“I hope I haven’t overwhelmed you by moving too fast, too soon.”

Too late. “What else would a former wide receiver do but run fast once he caught his girl?” She inhaled the air around him. “I just need a moment to catch my breath now and then.”

Jeremiah cupped her neck with his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “My first Sunday at Beaufort Community, Pastor O’Neal introduced me and asked me to say a few words. I sat on the first row during worship, focused but feeling at home in my new church. I’d practiced my two-minute greeting in front of the mirror a dozen times.”

“How could I forget? You captured us all that morning.”

“I wasn’t prepared to look out over the congregation and see a gorgeous strawberry blonde with apple-green eyes.”

She pressed her lips to his palm. “I certainly wasn’t prepared for you.”

“For a split second, I was caught in this Star Trek-like vortex. You were the only person in the room and I couldn’t remember what I wanted to say or, oddly enough, where I was.”

“You exaggerate.” Elle exhaled the same moment the creek released its breeze.

“The next few times I preached, I found you in the congregation during worship and made sure I never looked your way.”

“So, how does this answer Arlene Coulter’s speculation?” Elle huddled close to Jeremiah, shivering with the night chill and anticipation.

“First things first.” Raising his hand, Jeremiah dropped a small black-velvet box next to her plate, then looked into her eyes. “Elle Garvey, will you marry me?”

What? “Marry you?” She glanced from him to the ring box and back again. She’d expected a lot of things—but not this. After two months of dating, was he serious?

“Marry me. I love you. You are exceptional. I’ve waited a long time to ask a woman this question. Elle, please, say yes.” Jeremiah opened the box, holding it up for Elle to see the diamond in the candlelight.

“Oh, Jeremiah.” His proposal sent sparks all over her, but she had to snap the box shut. “Wait, wait. Tonight Arlene tried to console ‘my breaking heart,’ but it was really about you’re asking me to marry you?”

Jeremiah laced his fingers through Elle’s, still kneeling beside her chair. “Goes to show you Arlene doesn’t know everything.”

“Then tell me, what does she know, Jer?”

“Elle.” Jeremiah took the platinum band from its velvet bed and slipped it onto Elle’s finger. “Do you love me?”

The candles, the lights, the aroma of pasta, garlic, and sauce mingling with the cool dew of the night eased her anxiety. “Yes, I believe I do.”

“Then marry me. This is right, I know it.”

“I’ll marry you, Jeremiah. Yes.”

His arms shot over his head in victory. “She said yes!” He pulled her from her chair and locked her against him, sealing the deal with a hot, searching kiss. Finally, when he’d stolen her last bit of air, he pulled away. “Hungry?”

“Yes.” Elle fell limply against him. When she opened her eyes, Jeremiah’s smile look a bit wicked.

“I meant for lasagna.”

She flirted, tipping her chin to her raised shoulder. “So did I.”

“Oh, I see how it’s going to be.” He grabbed her for another kiss, drawing her close, pressing his hands tightly against her spine.

Elle backed away when temptation bullied her senses. “Jer, let’s eat before we do things we’ll regret.”

He sighed, his breath hot against her skin. “Sorry, Elle, but when I’m with you . . .”