Trust Me

him a strangely wistful smile. “If you’re sure you want to marry me, I’ll marry you.”
    Relief soared inside him. He fought the lightheaded sensation it created, afraid that if he abandoned himself to it he might do something stupid such as bounce off the walls and ceiling.
    He had to keep himself focused.
    Desdemona had just said that she would marry him, but she could easily change her mind. God knew he’d been through that scene often enough. The espresso cup in his hand rattled against its saucer. He let go of it quickly.
    “I’m sure.” Stark forced his voice to stay even. He seized the tiny cup again and swallowed the espresso in a single gulp. Then he glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late. I’d better be on my way.”
    “Hold it right there.” Desdemona narrowed her gaze into a severe glare. “Is that all you have to say?”
    He gave her a blank look. “What?”
    “I have just consented to marry you,” she reminded him a little too sweetly. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t that warrant a few excited words? An exclamation of joy? Perhaps even a small sonnet?”
    He felt himself turn a dark red. “I’m sorry,” he said stiffly. “I don’t do sonnets.”
    “I won’t change my mind, you know.”
    He smiled humorlessly as he got off the stool. “No?”
    “No. Look, I know you’re an old hand at proposals and weddings and such, but this is all new to me. This is the first time I have ever accepted a marriage proposal. Now, I realize beginners always have a few stars in their eyes, but I really did expect something more than what I’m getting here.”
    “I see,” Stark said cautiously. “What, exactly, did you expect?”
    “Well, for starters, I had envisioned a more momentous scene.” Desdemona waved a hand in the air. “Perhaps some roses and champagne. You’re supposed to be on your knees, of course. There should be moonlight, I think, and maybe some small show of elated emotion from you.”
    “I may have had experience, but I’m not very good at this,” Stark said.
    “Hah. You’re scared, aren’t you? You’re thinking about your past two spectacular failures, and you’re as edgy as an actor on opening night. Admit it.”
    He rounded the edge of the counter and cradled her face in his hands. He looked down into her wonderful eyes. “I suppose I could ensure that you show up at the altar by hiring you to do the catering for our wedding reception.”
    “I am not going to cater my own wedding.”
    “I was afraid of that. I guess I’ll have to take your word that you’ll show, won’t I?”
    “Have a little faith, Stark. Trust me.” She gave him a misty smile. “Just as I’m going to trust you.”
    He could not think of anything to say to that so he kissed her.
    She put down her espresso cup and kissed him back. He felt her arms circle his waist. The scent of her body filled his head.
    He relaxed when he heard her soft sigh. She melted against him, warm and sweet and welcoming. He might not always know what to say to Desdemona, he thought, but when he had her in his arms, he could communicate with her just fine.

19

    Dane lounged back in his chair and contemplated Stark with an amused expression. “I can’t believe you’re going to try it a third time.”
    Stark looked up from the spreadsheet he had been studying. Reluctantly he switched mental gears. “What?”
    “I said, I can’t believe you’ve asked Desdemona to marry you. It’s only been a couple of months since your last wedding. Are you sure you’re ready to rent another tux?”
    “I don’t have to rent one,” Stark said. “Pamela insisted I buy one for the last wedding, remember? I wore it to the charity ball. No reason I can’t use it again.”
    “I know, I know.” Dane grinned as he held up both hands. “I was just making a little joke.”
    “Very funny.” Stark refocused his attention on the spreadsheet. “What the hell is this? It looks like Lancaster pulled these projections for the first year’s sales of ARCANE right out of thin air.”
    “I was afraid of this,” Dane murmured.
    “Well, why didn’t you stop him?” Stark picked up a red felt pen and drew a precise, straight line through a whole row of figures. “How many times have I told everyone that I want conservative cost and sales estimates.”
    “Lancaster is a glass-half-full kind of guy. A natural optimist.”
    “Optimistic financial officers are dangerous. I feel much more secure when I know