a night, but for some reason she turned towards it. When Connor stepped in, shaking the water from his coat and instantly scanning the room, her pulse jumped. It was too coincidental. He had come looking for her.
When his eyes met hers across the hazy room she knew she was right. He smiled, a lazy, melting smile, and she braced herself. Men who smiled like that were deadly. And the last thing she needed was a distraction as lethal as Connor Madsen.
He made his way through the crush of people to her side. “Hi,” he said loudly, over the pulse of country music and boisterous laughter. “Can we talk?”
“Hey, Alex! Table ten needs another round! We don’t pay you to stand around all night!”
Alex nodded at Pete, the bartender and owner. Pete came across as all gruff, but she knew he had a heart of gold and a protective streak a mile long. It was one of the reasons she’d stayed as long as she had. As long as Pete was watching, she wouldn’t have to worry.
Alex looked up at Connor with consternation twisting her face. “I can’t talk right now, I’m working.”
“It’s important.”
“So’s my job.” She turned away, heading to the bar to pick up the round of beers.
His hand was firm on her arm. “If you care about your baby’s future, you’ll listen.”
That got her attention.
She stared up at him with eyes narrowed, curious despite herself. “Fine, then. But not now. Another time, when I’m not carting beers around.”
“What time are you through?”
“One.”
“In the morning?”
She laughed then, at his dismayed expression. “Yes, I have four more hours of being on my feet.”
He followed her to the bar. Pete asked a question with his eyes, but she gave a slight shake of her head: No, he wasn’t bothering her.
“I’ll come back and walk you home. I really do need to talk to you.”
She sighed. “Fine. But for now you’re costing me my tips, in case you didn’t notice. I need to get back to work. I won’t make much money with you standing glowering over me.”
She shouldered past him, pasting a smile on her face as she apologized to the patrons at table ten for the delay. When she turned back, he was gone.
At one a.m. they ushered out the last customer and Alex locked the door. Pete eyed her over the bar as he started counting out the float for morning. “Go home,” he said, “and I’ll finish this. That’s the second double you’ve pulled this week. You look like hell.”
“Gee, thanks, Pete.” She didn’t know whether to be relieved or nervous. If she left now, Connor might be outside waiting. If she didn’t, he’d probably get tired of waiting around. On one hand she wanted to see him, see what was so important. On the other she knew it probably wasn’t best. She didn’t need any extra complications right now—her life was already full of too many.
She grabbed her umbrella from behind the bar and saluted him. “Tomorrow at four?”
“G’night, darlin’,” he answered. “I’ll lock up behind you.”
When she stepped out into the darkness Connor was waiting, standing next to a bench beneath a streetlight. His tie from earlier was gone, and he looked sexily rumpled in the dim light. She swallowed, thankful that she’d spent enough time alone to have some street smarts. And to follow her instincts. Right now her instincts were telling her she wasn’t in mortal danger. But the way her body was reacting to seeing him again told her loud and clear that she was in danger of another kind.
She should turn around and go back inside. She reached for the handle, only to hear the lock click into place.
She could handle this. She could.
“My mother used to warn me about strange men and dark streets late at night.”
He turned, and in his arms was a bouquet of lemon-colored roses. “Then I guess it’s a good thing we have a streetlight and we’ve already met. I can’t do anything about the hour, though.”
He held out the roses and she was too stupefied to do anything besides take them, the clear cellophane wrapping crackling in her hands. Where had he found roses after nine p.m.?
And, a better question, why? What was so important he needed to butter her up with flowers first?
Warning bells screamed through her head. Whatever he wanted was something big. She’d only received flowers once before in her life. It had been roses then, too, pink ones. And the gist of the card had been Thanks for the memories.
“Thank you,” she said clearly. “But I don’t quite understand what is so important you think you need to impress me with roses. Even if they are quite stunning,” she admitted, sniffing the yellow blossoms.
She laughed a little to herself, remembered reading somewhere that yellow roses signified unrequited love. She needed that like she needed a hole in her head.
“You’d better get to the point,” she suggested. “The novelty of these will probably wear off pretty fast.”
“I have a proposition for you.”
She began walking, and he fell into step beside her.
“What sort of proposition?”
“I want you to marry me.”
Her feet simply stopped working, and she halted, frozen to the sidewalk. He what? What sort of cruel joke was this? Poor, pregnant Alex. Surely he didn’t think she was that desperate! He could take his pity and—
Her head lifted until she looked down her nose at him. “I couldn’t have just heard you correctly.”
He grabbed her forearms, turning her to face him, his hand catching on the umbrella dangling from her wrist. “I want you to marry me.” He huffed out a laugh of surprise. “That wasn’t how I planned to say it, but there you go.”
He wanted her to marry him. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. What on earth? She realized he was completely in earnest. He was proposing to her in the middle of the street at one-twenty-two in the morning.
“I met you less than twelve hours ago. You’re insane. Good night, Connor.”
She turned to walk away, and made it a few steps.
“Wait.”
The desperation in his voice caught at her and she stopped. “Wait for what? You can’t be serious about this.”
“I am. And I’ll explain it if you’ll only listen.”
His suit was rather rumpled, and his hair looked as if he’d spent the better part of the evening running his hands through it. Against her better judgment she capitulated. He’d helped her this afternoon, and she felt obligated to him. “You have five minutes.”
