Free Nobody But You B&N by Barbara Freethy

the recliner, you do not know me at all. I am not that easy." She smiled, then started to worry when his expression only grew more serious. "Okay, I am that easy. If you really want the recliner—"
    "Emma, I don't give a damn about the recliner."
    "Then why do you look so concerned? What are you worrying about?"
    "Whether or not you'll say yes, or if you'll think it's soon, too fast."
    Her heart started to beat in triple time. "Yes to what, Max?"
    He gave her a long look. "Will you marry me, Em?"
    The question took her breath away. She hadn't been expecting him to propose so soon after moving in together. She'd thought they were easing their way towards a more permanent commitment.
    "Okay, now I'm thinking it is too soon," he said when she didn't answer. "Sorry, forget I asked."
    She immediately shook her head. "No, it's the perfect time—for the question and for the answer. Which is yes. I love you, Max. I want to marry you. I want to have a life with you."
    Relief flooded his eyes. "I love you, too, Emma. You are the most stubbornly annoying, beautiful, generous, smart woman, I know."
    "Hey, you could leave out a few of those adjectives," she protested. "And I'm not the only one who's stubborn. You have a very hard head."
    He smiled. "I know. We're a perfect match. I want to live with you and love you and fight with you every day of our lives."
    "Maybe we can keep the fights to only every now and then," she teased. "Or maybe never if you agree to put that chair in the dumpster."
    "Fine, the chair goes in the dumpster."
    "I was just kidding. If you can't live without it, then it stays. And I'll be very happy to curl up on your lap while you're sitting in it."
    "The only thing I can't live without is you."
    "You don't have to. I'm not going anywhere."
    "Good."
    "So when did you decide you wanted to marry me?" she asked.
    "After our first fight."
    "We fought the first day we met," she reminded him. "We were working on a case and you didn't want to share your information with me."
    "And you didn't want to share your info with me, either. But I thought you were gorgeous with your silky blond hair and spitfire blue eyes."
    "I thought you were annoying, but also kind of hot," she admitted.
    "I liked that you didn't back down."
    "No, you didn't," she teased.
    "Okay, maybe I didn't like it that much. But I know that life with you is going to be one hell of a ride."
    "Never boring. So when do you want to get married?"
    "Whenever you want. But for now…" He got up and walked across the room, pulling a jewelry box out of his coat pocket. Then he came back to her. "I was going to give this to you tomorrow, on your birthday." He glanced at the clock. "Actually it's after midnight, so it is your birthday." He opened the lid. "What do you think?"
    She gasped at the sight of beautiful square-cut diamond ring. "It's gorgeous. And it's so me. You did good."
    "I had a little help from your sister, Nicole. Do you like it?"
    "I love it."
    He slipped it on to her finger. "It fits."
    "It does," she said, tears blurring her eyes as she looked from the ring to him. "You just have to make me one promise, Max."
    "Anything."
    "Don't ever leave me."
    "I promise," he said, then kissed away her tears. "You and I are going to be together for a very long time."
    The memory of Max's words echoed through Emma's head as the dream faded away. She opened her eyes and looked around the waiting room, wishing she could go back to the happy place. But reality was right in front of her.
    There were a lot of concerned faces turned in her direction, but everyone was giving her space. Her family knew her well. She was a strong person, and she knew how to fight, but sometimes she needed to be in her head for a few minutes so she could get past the fear and get onto the battle ahead.
    She straightened in her chair as Spencer entered the room. His tuxedo jacket was missing. His white shirt and gold tie were covered in blood. His face looked battered, a golf-ball sized