One Night Heir. Lucy Monroe

      “I’d like to see him try. I still have a wooden spoon and I’m not afraid to use it.”

      Gillian couldn’t help more laughter at that. Nana’d had the same fabled wooden spoon all the years of her growing up, too, but her backside had never felt the flat side of it.

      “I swear, I don’t know what makes that boy of mine think like he does.”

      “He’s fine, Nana. His dreams didn’t include having a family. That doesn’t make him bad.”

      “Well, he has a daughter, whether he dreamed you up or not.”

      “I know.” She’d spent her whole life knowing that while she had not been precisely wanted, both her parents had given her the gift of life and that was as far as the sacrifice was ever going to go.

      “I don’t like to see you settling,” Nana said in that tone Gillian hated.

      It was the I-worry-about-you-child-I-really-do tone and it came five minutes before Nana decided she needed to give up whatever adventure she and Papa were on to fly back to Seattle and check in on her granddaughter.

      “I’m fine, Nana. Better than fine.” She was on the verge of getting engaged to the man she loved with her whole heart. “I don’t need the words.”

      And she didn’t. She needed the actions. She needed Maks to put her first, to treat her like she mattered and he did that. His life was both high-profile and extremely busy, but Maks didn’t cancel dates, he didn’t show up late, and he didn’t dismiss her interests or her career as a studio photographer.

      “Hmmph.”

      That sound was almost as concerning as the older woman’s tone earlier. It implied that Nana would be having a talk with Maks.

      Gillian sighed. The man would have to be strong enough to withstand a talking-to, or ten, if they were going to be married.

      “Are you and Papa enjoying Vegas?” she asked, hoping to turn to the topic.

      “He lost money at the blackjack tables, but I won on the slots.” The glee in her grandmother’s tone brought a smile to Gillian’s face.

      “Is Rich still meeting you two for dinner next week?”

      “He hasn’t texted us to cancel.” Nana’s lack of fondness for texting came through in the way she said the word.

      “Good.”

      “I suppose we’ll have good news to tell him.”

      “I think so.” The doorbell rang. “That’s him, I’ve got to go.”

      “You call us tomorrow, you hear?”

      “Yes, Nana.” With news.

      Smiling, Gillian rushed to answer the door summons. her gaze fell on the manila envelope with the results from her latest physical. She hadn’t read it yet, but didn’t expect anything surprising.

      Gillian had her physical yearly, something her father had insisted on since she’d nearly died from appendicitis at the age of sixteen. She chose to see it as proof of affection he never gave voice to.

      Maks looked serious and devastatingly attractive in his black Armani suit as Gillian pulled the door open.

      She smiled up at all six feet four inches of muscular male towering confidently in her doorway. “You’re early.”

      “And yet you are ready. You are no ordinary woman, Gillian Harris.” He didn’t return her smile, but his espresso-brown eyes traveled down her body like a caress.

      He always did that, making her feel like all the super models in the world wouldn’t take his attention from her decidedly normal blond hair, blue eyes, average height and curves.

      She stepped back to let him in. “Nana didn’t stand for tardiness.”

      “And here I believed you were so eager to see me, you could not wait to get dressed,” he teased.

      She grinned up at him. “That, too.”

      He lowered his head and kissed her, his lips brushing hers in polite greeting. She returned the kiss, letting her mouth open just slightly because she liked the feel of their breath mingling.

      He made an inarticulate sound and deepened the kiss, pulling her body flush to his as he maneuvered them back into her apartment. As so often happened when they kissed, time stopped moving for her and the only thing her consciousness registered was the feel of his lips on hers and his hard body so close.

      When he pulled back, they were both breathing a little heavily.

      His dark gaze fell to the manila envelope by the door. She’d opened it, but the phone call had come in from Nana before she could skim the contents. She wasn’t worried, though. At twenty-six, she was young. She lived a healthy lifestyle and showed no signs of illness.

      Nana would chastise her nonetheless. It was a good thing the older woman was in Las Vegas.

      “You got your results.” There was a curiously flat quality to Maks’s tone.

      She nodded and led the way into the living room. “Would you like something to drink before we go?”

      “I’ll take a shot of Old Pulteney, if you have it.”

      “You know I do.” She’d kept the twenty-one-year-old single malt whiskey on hand since he’d admitted to it being his drink of choice.

      Gillian poured Maks two fingers in a rock glass, no ice, and handed it over.

      “Thank you.” He took a larger sip than usual.

      She smiled, charmed by the evidence of nervousness in a man so completely self-assured.

      “You never told me you had appendicitis when you were sixteen.”

      “You never asked.” He’d seen the scar, faded and small though it was.

      She was surprised it had been mentioned in her health report, though. His doctor had obviously done a much more thorough examination than her own GP for this physical. She wasn’t surprised in the least that Maks had read the report with such attention to detail, though.

      That was very much like him.

      Maks frowned and took a sip of his drink.

      Not sure why having had appendicitis was worth a frown, Gillian poured club soda over ice and added a slice of lime, her drink of choice. Maybe Maks was like her father and responded strongly to the knowledge she’d almost died.

      When Rich visited her in the hospital, it was the one and only time Gillian had seen overt concern for her on his movie star handsome face.

      Her father never appreciated the reminder that he’d been vulnerable to worry for her and she assumed Maks would be the same, so she didn’t comment on it, but asked instead, “Where are we going for dinner?”

      He’d said he wanted to take her somewhere special. Combined with the fact he’d asked for the results of her yearly physical and that his own GP perform it, she was pretty confident that tonight was supposed to end in a proposal.

      One She had no intention of turning down.

      She loved him wholly and completely. She’d never told him, either. She hadn’t admitted that to Nana, but the words had turned out surprisingly difficult for Gillian to utter.

       “Chez Rennet.”

      It was the first restaurant he’d ever taken her to. No, he hadn’t said the words, but Maks had a romantic streak he wasn’t that great at hiding.

      “Terrific. I love Rennet’s food.” The chef and owner had a soft spot for both her and Maks as well.

      Dining in his restaurant was always pleasurable and Gillian took that as further evidence Maks wanted tonight to be special.