“Did you knock me up to gain an heir for some bizarre corporate takeover scheme?”

“Jesus, no. I’m sorry, I should have told you about that before.”

“So you did know about it?”

“I did. But it’s never been relevant to me.”

“Until I showed up pregnant.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. It’s never been relevant to me because I was never going to have a child simply as a means to gain company stock. That’s ludicrous. If I’d been willing to do that I’d have gotten married a long time ago. I don’t need the shares, Daisy. And even if I did, I’d never do that.”

“MoneyWeek seems to think you need them.”

“MoneyWeek is trying to sell magazines. And I wasn’t interviewed for that story or I’d have set them straight. I didn’t even find out about it until ten minutes before the meeting to extract Margo from the company and honestly, I thought the chances of you reading a financial magazine that hit the newsstands just that day were small, or I’d have rescheduled the Margo meeting and come straight to you.”

“Hmmm.” Again.

“I don’t need the shares, Daisy. I promise you that. The board is aligned with my business plan and no one is challenging my role as CEO of the company. The only person who’d have a real vested interest in doing either would be Wyatt, and he doesn’t even care enough to show up for board meetings—or work, actually. Honestly I’m not even sure he has a job at the company.”

“He doesn’t? What does he do with himself?”

“Who the hell knows? Lives off his inheritance and enjoys life, I assume.”

“How nice for him.”

“It’s something,” I say, not really interested in discussing my wayward cousin. “Daisy, you can’t believe I planned all this to trap you into having my baby. For a corporate scheme, as you put it. You can’t believe that. I’ve done everything I’m capable of to show you how I feel about you.”

“Fine. Maybe you didn’t plan it. But you’re one of those honorable guys who just makes do with the hand he’s dealt.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“You say you were in love with me from the start, but you left me. You stole my camera and left me in a hotel room. We’re only together because I’m pregnant and I tracked you down.”

“That’s not entirely true. I looked for you. For weeks. I hired an entire team of investigators to find you. I’m not even sure I want to know the lengths they had to go in order to find a gorgeous brunette named Daisy when I didn’t have much else to go on. I didn’t even know where you worked, just that it was travel-related. I think there may have been some illegal obtaining of security footage to make it happen. But they found you.”

“But I found you first,” she protests.

“No, you didn’t.” I shake my head. “The blogging conference. Once I knew who you were I ensured you were invited as a speaker, expenses covered. And then I prayed you’d come to me. I thought it might seem a bit more organic than me showing up at your doorstep like a deranged stalker, asking you for another chance. We were a corporate sponsor of the event. I was going to show up and just happen to bump into you.” I exhale. God, I sound lame, even to myself. “I read your entire blog three times in the two weeks between them locating you and that damn event.” I shake my head—it was a bit of a sad-sack move, to pine over her at that point, but the blog offered so much insight into her as a person, a four-year history of her travels and likes and dislikes. How stalkery of me.

“And then I threw you for a loop by showing up at your grandfather’s retirement shindig.”

“And then you threw me for one hell of a loop when you showed up at my grandfather’s retirement shindig. As my fiancée,” I remind her. “I had no idea what to think at that point. I’d thought I was going to see you the following week. You’d accepted the invitation to the conference and I was confident you’d show up. If you hadn’t, my plan B was that I’d contact you directly, as stalkery as the idea seemed. Imagine my surprise when I arrive at the party and discover I have a fiancée. You. The woman I’ve been searching for, in the midst of lying to my family about being engaged to me.”

“Oh, right. Forgot that part.” She bites her lip, and I think I might have a chance here.

“I stole your camera and left that day because I panicked. I didn’t know if I could trust you. You took that photo of us in bed and honestly… I got a little paranoid. I was just going to delete it, but I couldn’t figure out how to work the camera. And I was late for my flight, which I needed to be on because Kerrigan’s high-school graduation was that afternoon. It was stupid of me.”

“And so you just left.”

“I regretted it. I regretted it halfway to the airport, knew I’d overreacted and that you weren’t out to sell or post a compromising photo of me. I called the hotel and asked to be connected to the room, but you didn’t pick up. You were already gone. My next call was to my lawyer, asking him to spearhead hiring a team to find you.”

“How very Prince Charming of you.”

“My only lead a locked camera, instead of a glass slipper.”

“Promise you’re not with me out of a sense of honor. Because of the baby? Because you’re Mr. Family Values. Because you get off on doing the right thing?”

“Daisy. Please. I’ve got four baby mommas already. If I was worried about honor I’d have married the first one.”

“What?” Her eyes fly up to meet mine, expression alarmed.

“Relax, I’m kidding.” I close the distance between us and take her hands before getting onto one knee before her. “Daisy Kingston, would you please do me the honor of remaining my wife? I know I’ve gone about this all wrong, and I should have told you how I felt much sooner. And I should have explained about the completely insane trust my grandfather set up before I was even born, but I do love you. And I hope that’s enough because I don’t want to live without you. Not for a single day.”

“Oh, my God.” She yanks one of her hands out of mine and places it on her stomach, eyes wide.

“What is it? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She laughs. “The baby just kicked. I mean, I think that was a kick. I’ve never felt gas like that, so I’m pretty sure.” She laughs again, a look of joy on her face as she marvels at the milestone. “You probably can’t feel that,” she tells me, taking my hand and flattening it over a spot on her stomach.

She’s right. I can’t. But I enjoy the feel of her hand over mine and the look of happiness on her face.

She glances back to me, I think having momentarily forgotten why I’m on my knees before her.

“Yes. Yes, I will stay married to you, Kyle Kingston.”

26

Daisy

“Damn, I’m so glad you let me talk you into that babymoon,” Kyle says from beside me in the bed.

“Stop looking at those photos, you pervert.”