“Oh, Trace.” She blinked fast, thankful that they were still mostly in a lake, and mostly wet from the dousing; it helped to hide the silly tears. “I’m going to do that whether we’re together or not.”

He put his forehead to hers. “I like my house, Priss. The location is secure, so I’d prefer not to move.”

She laughed around a lump of emotion. Trace’s home was within half an hour of Dare, on a similar scale but in a different style, and also backed up to a large lake. Priss had a feeling that the guys used the lake as a natural barrier to prying eyes.

“Liger will need a few things,” she warned, thinking of his cat box. “And he can shed a lot in the summer.”

Trace looked over at the big cat. Stretched out on his back, his legs flopped open, he rested next to Tai. Even with the dog dripping lake water, Liger looked content.

When he realized that he had Trace’s attention, Liger lifted his head and said, “Merrrowwww….” in his sweet voice, making Trace laugh.

“You two are a package deal, and Liger’s already my buddy. I’m every bit as pet friendly as Dare, so don’t worry about that.”

“Good. Because I like your house, too, at least, from what I got to see of it.” They’d only been there a day. And most of that day had been in Trace’s bedroom on his massive bed. The next morning, he’d flown her to New York City, and from there, to Las Vegas. “I’ve loved all the places we’ve been and all the fun we’ve had, but I wouldn’t mind settling down a little, too.”

Being in one place with Trace, having a routine with him—making a life with him—appealed to her in a big way.

“What about your shop?” And before he let her answer, he said, “I’m not keen on you being away from me, Priss, and no, it has nothing to do with the type of shop it is.”

“Fibber.” She still recalled Trace’s unease as she’d shown him through the shop with Gary dogging their heels. He’d tried to hide it under compliments on her management skills, but she knew that Trace hated the thought of her working there.

“It has more to do with it being too far away, and not in the most secure location—”

“Gary can buy me out. He wants to do that anyway.”

Trace stalled in midsentence. “You’re okay with that?”

“With not owning a  p**n  shop?” She shrugged. She was more than okay with it. “It doesn’t hold any sentimental value, believe me. It was always a means to an end.”

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “It was your independence.”

And a way for her to hide from Murray while plotting her revenge. Priss shook her head. “I still want independence, so I’ll be getting a job.” She was hoping to find some way to assist Trace in his work. Not by accompanying him, because she knew he wouldn’t have that. But maybe she could do some computer-type screening stuff, looking up facts and histories. Now that she’d had a small taste of helping others, she wanted more.

She wanted to make a difference, the same way that Trace did. But she’d broach that topic later. “I’m not a person who does well with idle time.”

“Seriously? I never would have guessed.”

His teasing didn’t bother her, especially when she looked at her ring again. Smaller diamonds surrounded the impressive princess-cut stone, making it glint brightly in the sunlight. “It is so perfect.”

“If it’s not, we can exchange it—”

She snatched the ring up close to her chest. “Never.”

Trace gave a slow, sexy grin. “So, Priscilla Patterson, since you approve of my job, my home, my friends and my ring, will you try another new experience—and marry me?”

Joy bubbled up, but she didn’t want to shout just yet. “When you go off to—” she glanced at Matt “—work, will you at least tell me what’s going on?”

“Yes. As much as I can.”

“Will you be honest about the danger involved?”

“I’ll be honest with you about everything.”

“Okay.” She peeked at him, and winced in dread. “Did you want a big wedding?”

Trace frowned at the continued line of questioning. “I want whatever you want.”

That almost made her cry, too. “Another first,” she whispered, because before now, what she wanted hadn’t really mattered. She kept smoothing her hands over his chest, as always drawn by his physique. “You should enter a wet T-shirt contest. You’d win.”

Chris snorted, but Matt agreed.

Priss ignored him. “If you’re sure it doesn’t matter to you, I’m not keen on the idea of anything too fancy.”

Trace pulled her off the rock ledge and into his arms. “Small works fine for me. Just family and friends?”

“All right.” She looked over at Matt. “I’ll invite him. Everyone else will have to come from your side.”

“Me?” Matt choked. “I mean, I’d be honored, but—”

Trace’s crooked smile put Matt at ease.

“Well, I’m flattered.” Matt put a hand to his heart. “Thank you, Priscilla.”

She grinned at him. “I’ll need you there to do my hair anyway.”

Chris pushed up from his seated position. As if he were the Pied Piper, the dogs and cat followed suit. “I think I’ll go tell Dare to figure on something nice for dinner. That is, if you two want to celebrate with friends?”