“We will.”
“And don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of everything. Every-single-thing. Now go.”
Julia wrapped her sister in one final hug, and then said goodbye as the sun rose over San Francisco.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: June 8, 9:45 AM
subject: You too
I would have called you last night when I read your note, but it was one-thirty in the morning my time, and I didn’t want to wake you up. But I was over the moon! I literally danced on my bed, and screamed with happiness. Does that make me an awful witch for celebrating a man’s potential incarceration? I hope not. And I can’t think of a better present. Well, I can think of a better present . . .
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: June 8, 6:47 AM
subject: Late-night calls
Did I somehow give you the impression I would be unreceptive to a middle of the night call from you? I’d answer anytime. Be ready anytime. I am always ready.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: June 8, 10:12 AM
subject: Ready or not?
I didn’t want to be rude and wake you up. But what you did is amazing. I can’t believe you found him. Wait. I can believe it. You are some kind of master fixer.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: June 8, 7:27 AM
subject: Call me Mr. Fix-It
I can fix things around the house too. I am very good with my hands.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: June 8, 10:52 AM
subject: Yes. You are.
I believe I am well acquainted with your manual dexterity.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: June 8, 8:01 AM
subject: Come again
You should get reacquainted with it.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: June 8, 11:20 AM
subject: Your note from last night . . .
So . . . this whole adoration thing . . . are we talking pedestal, shrine or just overall worship level?
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: June 8, 8:31 AM
subject: More than worship
You are adored on every level. I can’t even joke about it because it’s all too true.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: June 8, 11:48 AM
subject: Exciting news!
I won a contest for my Purple Snow Globe!
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: June 8, 9:07 AM
subject: As you predicted the night I met you
Tell me more.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: June 8, 12:32 PM
subject: Be my attorney
Big drink company offered me a contract. I might need a lawyer to look at the fine print.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: June 8, 9:48 AM
subject: Waiving my fee
I’ll do it for you. You can pay me in blow jobs.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: June 8, 1:05 PM
subject: My kind of payday
I’d give you those for free.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: June 8, 10:23 AM
subject: Mine too
I want more.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: June 8, 1:33 PM
subject: Restrained
I’d give you more anyway. Maybe you can tie me up, tie me down, or tie me all around.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: June 8, 10:52 AM
subject: Bound and Tied
Don’t tease me. You know I love the way you look in my ties.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: June 8, 2:16 PM
subject: Yes to both
I’m not teasing.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: June 8, 11:28 AM
subject: Yes you are
You’ve never been a tease. Except when you tease.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: June 8, 2:44 PM
subject: This is not teasing.
I miss you like crazy.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: June 8, 3:07 PM
subject: Fix for that
I have a pill you can take that cures that. It’s called come live with me.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: June 8, 3:49 PM
subject: Question
How much do you adore me?
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: June 8, 4:02 PM
subject: Answer
So much I can’t measure it.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: June 8, 4:11 PM
subject: And another
How much do you love me?
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: June 8, 4:18 PM
subject: Hit me with another
More than I know what to do with.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: June 8, 4:20 PM
subject: One more
How happy would you be if I said yes to your offer?
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: June 8, 4:25 PM
subject: One word
Immeasurably.
Iron. He’d cloaked himself in iron. He’d resisted. He hadn’t asked for an answer. He hadn’t pressured her. He’d simply kept up the volley, letting her lead as she seemed to need at the moment. He held tight to his phone, keeping it on his lap as he worked through the latest set of papers for the Pinkertons from home.
He’d hoped to catch a movie with Davis, since his friend was back in town after working in London for the last few months. But Chris had called him that morning, telling him he was sending a bottle of vintage scotch over as a thank you for his new contract.
“The delivery guys said they’ll be there between four and five, so I guess you can just have the doorman sign for it if you’re out?’’
“I don’t have a doorman, but it’s not a problem. I’ve got things I can take care of at the house, so I’ll sign for it myself.”
“Thanks, man,” Chris had said. “It’s the least I can do. You rocked the hell out of my new deal.”
“If you’re pleased, I’m pleased.”
But it was four-thirty and the scotch hadn’t arrived yet. He was looking forward to it, but not as much as he was looking forward to another note from Julia. The clock was ticking, lurching towards midnight. If he were a betting man, he’d put money on Julia using up every second of her week of thinking, and giving him the verdict when the clock struck twelve. That would be fine by him. She was worth waiting for.
He scanned the page in front of him when the message light dinged on his phone.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: June 8, 4:32 PM
subject: One question
Do you still love surprises?
Before he could reply, his phone buzzed with a text message.
Balcony.
He closed his eyes briefly, a spark racing through him with the possibility. Was she reminiscing about the things they’d done on the balcony or was there more to it? He stood up, walked to the door and slid it open. With his heart in his throat and hope winding its way through his bones, he crossed the distance to the railing, and looked down.
His heart stopped, and then started again, thumping hard against his chest with desire, happiness, and mad love.
She was the most beautiful sight in the world. But it wasn’t the stockings and the heels, the skirt or the little tank top. It wasn’t even her hair falling in waves along her shoulders. It was the two humongous suitcases, one on each side of her. She waved at him as his phone rang.
“My driver left me here on the sidewalk with all my things. Don’t suppose you know a big strong man who could help me carry them upstairs to my new home?”
He grinned like a crazy man. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Within seconds—okay, maybe a minute—he was downstairs, looking both ways, and sprinting across the street to her. He gathered her in his arms, and it was like coming home. Her body melted into his as she roped her arms around his neck, and they kissed, and they kissed, and they kissed.
Finally, they pulled apart, but neither one let go. He needed to hold her. To feel her. To know she was real. He ran his hands along her bare arms. The feel of her skin was some kind of magic. He bent his head to her neck, inhaling her scent, the delicious, intoxicating smell of the woman he craved in every way. He lifted a hand to her hair, threading his fingers around her gorgeous flames. The sound of her sweet happy sigh was a shot of pure joy to his heart. She was here. She’d said yes.
“I made sure my flight had Wi-Fi so I could surprise you. Did you think I was in San Francisco the whole day? The time on my laptop was set to Pacific until I landed.”
He nodded. “I did, and I take it there’s no vintage scotch arriving between four and five?”
“I’m the vintage scotch. I hope you like your surprise.”
“You taste better than any scotch, than anything I’ve ever had to eat or drink. So you’re here to stay?” he asked, needing to hear it from her.
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