actor, a fact VJ’s celebrity magazines had clearly omitted. Before he could mention it, he suddenly envisioned stepping on puppies. Treading lightly might be a better idea than squashing her idealism. “Have you?”
“Of course! Like a million times.”
Her face took on the glow he’d been missing and his gut clenched. His reaction to her was so pure and elemental, with no expectations. Which was why he enjoyed it—no danger of it going anywhere. So she was the romantic sort, envisioning her new last name and assigning genders to her unborn children. Delusions which led to heartbreak when the passion faded. Figured.
While nothing about relationships made for his favorite topic of discussion, if he got to bask in VJ’s fresh smile, he could buck up. “Tell me.”
“About my dream proposal?”
“You’ve imagined it a million times. Should be easy.”
Leather squealed as she sank down into the seat. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was trying to disappear into it. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”
“No, I won’t.” His curiosity flared. Ever since he’d mentioned the engagement stunt, she’d withdrawn. He wanted her in-your-face honesty back. “I want to know. Everything about you interests me.”
She shot him a sidelong glance behind her sunglasses. “You’re not allowed to laugh, okay?”
“No chance.”
She took a deep breath. “I want to get my engagement ring as a present in a huge box, so I don’t guess what’s in it. When I open it, the little box will be inside. Then I’d realize.”
That was the proposal she’d imagined a million times? “Sounds very nice.”
And boring. A hundred scenarios sprang to mind, all of which eclipsed that in terms of romantic proposals. In seconds, the entire scene unfolded in his head and he started dropping in thematic elements like roses and soft lighting. Maybe that was the key to the theme for Visions of Black—lighting.
“Beats the one I got.”
She’d done it again. Pulled him out from behind the lens with an intriguing statement. “Someone proposed to you?”
“Walt Phillips.” Her lip curled. “It wasn’t really a proposal. More of a statement. Like it was foregone we’d get married because we’d been dating since high school. How long have you and Kyla been together?”
Back to that again. “I don’t know.” He tapped the steering wheel with restless fingers. “I don’t pay attention to stuff like that.”
“You don’t celebrate anniversaries?”
“There’s more than one?”
“Anniversary of your first date, anniversary of your first kiss. The first time you made love, the first time you…” She trailed off as he raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Nobody kept track of those milestones. “Nothing. Are you sure you don’t want breakfast?”
“Are you sure you want to marry someone you aren’t in love with?”
The car veered toward the center line and he overcorrected, shooting the passenger-side tires past the white line of the shoulder, jouncing them both until he got the wheel under control. Precisely the reason he stayed behind the camera—so he couldn’t be caught off guard. “Seems like you’re the one practicing ESP. What makes you think I’m not in love with Kyla?”
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