This”—he waved his hand up and down—“all started because you accidentally stepped on some girl’s foot?”

I nodded again, hating how ridiculous this all sounded. “I tried to call you but I forgot about having to put in the country code first.” I hoped my sheepish look was enough to indicate how remorseful I was. “I was trying to squeeze past them and it just happened. Some girls recognized me and asked for my autograph and then someone wanted to take pictures and then I stepped on someone’s foot. I tried to apologize but another girl shoved me and I bumped the girl behind me and . . . well, they shoved me and I shoved back.”

This apparently amused him.

“It’s not funny.”

He wiped his hand over his lips. “I’m not laughing. But I’m glad you defended yourself.”

I chose not to reply. Defending myself was my downfall.

“So are you going to explain how I put up with you or should we just throw more shoes around instead?”

I turned back to him and grumbled, “You threw the first shoe.”

He was unruffled. “I did. And you’re avoiding answering me.”

“Okay, fine. You want to know? Your publicist, your manager—hard to hide the fact that they both despise me. The only one who’s nice is Aaron and I suppose it’s only to keep you happy. I know they all think I got pregnant on purpose.”

I tossed the other black stiletto into my open suitcase, gentler this time. “Taryn, the evil little temptress, out to trap you and steal your millions.” I took a deep breath.

“We both know how you got pregnant, sweetheart,” he said softly. “It may have been an accident instead of something we planned for but it certainly wasn’t intentional. And it was a risk we took together. Besides, if I didn’t want to have kids with you someday I would have been wearing condoms from day one.”

That stopped me dead in my tracks. “I’ve always wondered about that, actually.” His brow rose. “About?”

“The unprotected day-one part.” He laughed shyly as if he had his own private joke. His eyes locked on mine. “Tar, I knew that very first day I stumbled into your pub that you were the one. I think I fell in love with you when you were rubbing that shit on my cuts.”

I gasped, shocked by his admission.

Another private thought wisped through him, causing a sly grin to form. “I started to have naughty fantasies about you being the mother of my kids when you were kicking my ass playing pool. By the time we finally hooked up, I honestly didn’t care one way or the other if I knocked you up. Feeling your skin on mine was worth taking the risk. And if getting you pregnant meant that you were tied to me somehow permanently, even better.”

I instantly softened at that. Melted, died, and floated to heaven actually.

He held his arms open, welcoming me. I curled up in his lap and snuggled into his neck, never wanting to let go.

His nose drifted over mine. “You know I want kids, so I couldn’t give two shits about what Marla or anyone else thinks. All I care about are the decisions we make as a couple.”

I brushed my lips on his for a kiss, loving him even more than I thought was possible.

Ryan lounged back and I rested my head on his shoulder. “But,” he said conspiratorially, “back to the Marla thing. I found out earlier today that on the day I proposed to you, Marla caught her husband screwing one of the bartenders from the Chateau in her shower.”

My head popped off his bare chest. “No kidding?”

“I think that explains some things, don’t you?”

I nodded. “Yeah, it does.”

He combed my long hair back. “Trish wanted to tell you about the email she got this morning but I guess I spoiled all her fun now.”

I envisioned Marla walking into her pala-tial estate, catching her husband’s wet, naked ass in mid-thrust. Oh to have been a fly on the wall for that one. Still, part of me could relate all too well to that scenario and I actually pitied her.

“Bartender, huh? She probably thinks we’re all sluts.”

“Well, that’s her problem, not ours, okay?” I nodded. “Okay.”

Ryan gently rubbed his hand up and down my back, lulling me into a stupor.

“I just wish David didn’t hate me, too,” I said.

Ryan huffed. “David sees you as a distraction.”

The way he spoke, I could tell that wasn’t all there was to it.

“And?”

“Annnd . . . I really don’t care what he thinks.”

“He’s had it in for me ever since we had that dinner meeting with Follweiler.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t like you influencing my career decisions.”

“Maybe I should keep my opinions to myself then.”

Ryan stirred. “No way. Screw that. I want to know what you think. Your views aren’t jaded like his are. Besides, I know what’s temporary and what’s permanent in my life.” He shifted me on his lap. “Anything else you want to get off your chest while we’re on a roll?”

I scratched my puffy lip and muttered, “I was arrested today.”

“No,

you

weren’t,

remember?

No

charges?”

“There will be photos of me getting taken into custody in every paper, Ryan.”

“And you’re expecting me to be mad at you about it?”

“Well, yeah. Not just mad, furious actually.”

“I am mad. I’m freaking furious, but not at you. I’m pissed off that hordes of women prevented you from getting back into the hotel and that you were manhandled and treated like a criminal and injured. That’s what I’m pissed about.”

I bristled. “You don’t need negative press.” Ryan shirked it off. “It is what it is. If it bleeds, it leads. This isn’t a scandal, Tar. It will blow away eventually so spending a lot of energy on it is a waste. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Ryan stood up with me in his arms. “Oh, you’re a big lug,” he said. He smiled and kissed me before setting me gently down on the bed. “Hungry? I take it they didn’t feed you in the slammer.”

I frowned at his lame joke, but he was too busy reading the room service menu to notice. “Starving, actually.”

He glanced back at me. “Come to think of it, I am sort of mad at you, though. If you were so desperate to try bondage and handcuffs and shit, all you had to do was ask. I’d be more than happy to go there with you. We have yet to fully explore the depraved side of sex. Hell, we haven’t even scratched the surface.”