Page 87 of Five Men and a Nanny

He nodded, not moving as I edged around the table to add the plates I held to his tray. As soon as I came into his reach, he pulled me down onto his lap and pressed his face against my hair. “Good morning,” he whispered.

; “Morning. I should get dressed if we’re going out.”

His arms loosened slightly, but he didn’t let me go completely. Ben turned me in his arms a bit, so I was looking at him. “She seems happier today.”

I nodded. “She’s more secure.”

“I know what could make her feel even surer.”

“Hmm?” I lost myself in the warmth of his eyes for a moment.

“Let’s get married.”

Chapter 18

Ben

She jumped off my lap like I’d scalded her, leaving me staring at her in shock as she messed around with the dishes and lifted the tray. “Did you hear me?”

Lindsay frowned at me. “Of course, but don’t be ridiculous. You don’t have to do anything out of obligation. Elle will realize I’m here as long as you want me to be. Marriages of convenience went out years ago.”

With that, she turned away from me and stalked out of the room. I heard some clattering dishes in the kitchen before I saw her reemerge and head straight for the stairs. Running a hand through my hair, I tried to figure out where I’d gone wrong.

A groan left me as I realized in just about every way that was possible. I’d suggested it casually, and as a way to ensure Elle was happy. That was how my brain had been working, but it wasn’t because that would be the only reason I wanted to marry Lindsay. I guess I’d just assumed that she’d feel the same way, especially after last night. We’d been so close, and I shared so much with her. I was certain she wasn’t holding back either, but had I misjudged something?

I didn’t think so, and as I observed her throughout the day, watching how she interacted with Elle, while steering clear of me, I was certain she had declined because she was hurt and didn’t want to be used as a convenient wife and mother-substitute. I was sure she felt as strongly about me as I did her, but she needed a better proposal.

She certainly deserved a much better one, and my brain started processing ideas.

I didn’t get a chance to enact any of them until a few days later: Christmas Eve. I wanted to catch her unaware, so I enlisted Elle’s help. Maybe it was a bad idea, in case Lindsay said no, but she seemed confident that her nanny would say yes when I confided my plan to her.

Now, she led Lindsay down the stairs, and they were both dressed in coordinating. red evening gowns. That had been Elle’s idea, and when she’d surprised Lindsay with “her” plan for a lovely evening in, she’d given her the red dress at that time. Betsy had been persuaded to provide her size a few days ago, after laundry day. Margot was in on it too, since she had cooked our dinner and the special dessert.

I offered an arm to each of them, and when they both took one, it felt so right that I stumbled. I nearly stumbled again when Lindsay lifted her head to whisper against my ear, “You look good enough to eat in that tux, Mr. Hudson.” Then she gave me an innocent smile and moved a few inches away.

It had been miserable for the past few days waiting to see if she would come to my room. She hadn’t, and I hadn’t gotten any signals suggesting I should go to her. I’d given her time to withdraw and get over her hurt, knowing tonight was in the works.

Margot had outdone herself, and it was a feast from the appetizer to the entrée. As the dessert came out in parfait cups, my stomach clenched with nerves. Thinking she would agree and hearing it confirmed were two different things.

“What is this?” she asked as her spoon broke the burnt sugar shell.

“Orange crème brûlée. It’s my favorite,” said Elle.

“Next to chocolate cake,” I added, watching avidly as she scooped up a bite.

“It’s my favorite Christmas eve dessert,” Elle amended. “But chocolate cake is my favorite regular dessert.”

“It’s really yummy,” said Lindsay a moment later and closed her eyes.

When she withdrew the spoon from her sweet mouth, she noticed the gift I had placed in front of her: a small, red box.

“Open it,” I said.

With trembling hands, she undid the ribbon and clicked the box open. The light made it gleam, and she gasped. “Is this…?”

“It is,” I said.