The Men of Thorne Island (22 page)

Nick smiled. “Actually, he didn’t. He put the pouch back behind the wall and let Carl Junior find it when he came for his first official Digging Day.”

“Oh, wow. How unselfish of him.” Sara rubbed her thumb over the coin. “Fatherhood has given Brody a new heart.”

“Something like that, I guess.”

Sara put the coin on her desk. “So, if there wasn’t a great fortune, what did you mean when you said money wasn’t a problem? It is for me. I’m still paying off my Home Depot charges.”

He peered over her shoulder at the tray of grapes. “Didn’t you notice what the grapes were lying on?”

“The platter?”

“No. The paper.”

Sara stared down at the tray. With care, she slid a leaflet of papers from under the fruit and held it up with both hands.

“Oh, my God, Nick!” She spun around to face him. “It’s a publishing contract!”

He grinned broadly. “A three-book deal. You might want to look at page two, at the part about the
advance. I know it starts with a one, but there are a few zeros following it.”

The room spun, and the weakness that had been threatening Sara’s knees attacked with alarming ferocity. She leaned against the desk and concentrated on breathing. “I knew the books were wonderful.” She let a smile express her awe and the sudden realization that Nick had changed. “Nick, you’re making money.”

A lopsided grin communicated his embarrassment. “I guess making money’s not such a terrible thing.”

She looked at the contract again. “And you’re using your real name.”

“Yeah, but just so you don’t start commending me on my bravery, I should tell you that I checked up on the Golden Isles boys. They’re likely to remain locked up for quite some time. And since I’m using my real name, I’ve agreed to write a weekly column for the
Plain Dealer,
too. Looks like I’ll be going into Cleveland every week or so.” A wickedly innocent smile curled his lips. “Which brings me to my real reason for coming here today.”

Sara affected a suspicious frown. “Oh? I thought your real reason was to see me.”

“That, too. But if I’m going to Cleveland, I need a car. I thought maybe you’d let me use yours.”

He dodged the grape she hurled at him. “My car doesn’t go anywhere without me.”

“Then I’ll just have to marry you and take you with me. I need a car that much.”

She had raised her hand to fling another grape, but it never left her fingers. Instead, she just stared at the face waiting expectantly for her reaction. After sev
eral seconds Nick said, “I guess that wasn’t very romantic.”

A very unladylike whoop hovered just at the back of Sara’s throat. It was all she could do to keep it from erupting in joyous discord from her mouth. “No, it wasn’t,” she said. “Do better.”

He took the grape from her hand and entwined his fingers with hers. “Sara Crawford, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife and making a life with me on Thorne Island? And will you have babies and crush grapes and make wine for our table?”

She started to speak, but he popped the grape into her mouth. “And if you say yes, I promise to abandon my life as a recluse and travel with you wherever you want to go. Our world can be a cozy inn or the four corners of the globe. I only know that my world is with you.”

Sara reached for him. He stepped into her arms and held her close. “How many ways are there to say yes?” she whispered.

“Only one matters, sweetheart.”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

He gently pulled her arms from around his neck. “Before you get too enthusiastic, I should tell you that what your assistant said is true. I haven’t filed income tax in a long time. I really do need a good tax accountant.”

Sara rummaged through the papers on her desk. When she found the document she needed, she gave it to Nick. “Consult Chart A, Romano. In this country, if you are under sixty-five, you only need to file if you earned more than $8,800 dollars in one year.” She chuckled at the light that came on in his eyes. “I may not know everything about you, darling, but I
could swear on the steps of the Treasury building that you fit the parameters of an IRS exemption from filing responsibilities. But thanks to your publishing wind-fall, you are indeed now a computer entry.”

He grinned down at her. “God, Sara, I love it when you talk dirty.” He’d just crushed his lips to hers when the office door swung open and Emily Marshall marched in with a security officer behind her.

“Good heavens!” the woman exclaimed.

Ending the kiss, but still holding Sara close, Nick whispered in her ear, “Jeez, Sara, doesn’t that woman know how to knock?”