The Bravo Billionaire Part 29

"Oh, Jonas. I am so glad. It's all worked out, hasn't it? Just perfectly."

"Not quite, it hasn't."

Right then, one of the Yorkies whined in happiness. He knelt and greeted them, then snapped his fingers. They trotted off.

He stood again. "They missed me."

He watched those full b.r.e.a.s.t.s move beneath that little bit of shirt as she sucked in a deep breath. "Uh. Yes. It looks like they did. They missed you..."

"Did you miss me, Emma?"

"Oh, Jonas..."

He repeated the question, with tenderness. "Emma. Did you miss me?"

She seemed to be having trouble looking at him. She looked at the wall over his right shoulder, at the ceiling, the curtains across the room and finally down at her feet, where she appeared to be studying those polka-dot toes.

"Uh-uh." He put his finger under her chin and made her meet his eyes. "I already know the answer. But I want to hear you say it, anyway."

"Oh. Well, I..."

He rubbed his thumb over her smooth and only slightly stubborn chin. She trembled. That pleased him.

He offered, "I'll even go first. I missed you. So much. You ripped my heart out, Emma, and you took it with you when you left."

She gave a small cry. "No. Jonas. That wasn't what I wanted."

"It was what you did. Now, did you miss me?""Oh, please! You know that I missed you. Every day without you has been-""Empty?" he suggested. "Gray? Ugly? Sad?""Yes," she said angrily. "That's right. All those words. Exactly right.""Then why the h.e.l.l did you leave?"She put up both hands, then dropped them to her sides again. "Because I really thought it was the right thing. To set you free. Aunt Ca.s.s used to say, 'If you love somebody, you have to be able to set them free.'" She must have read the look on his face. She scowled. "Well, all right. Maybe Sting said it first, but Aunt Ca.s.s said it, too."

"I don't give a d.a.m.n who said it. It doesn't apply when the somebody you love has no desire to get away from you."

"But I thought-"

"Don't say it. I know what you thought. And you were wrong."

"But-"

"Emma. In this, you were very, very wrong."

She said nothing. Her sweet mouth was quivering.

He said, "I love you, Emma Lynn Hewitt Bravo. I love you and I miss you and I want you home with me. I want you to put your wedding ring back on and I want to tear up that d.a.m.n prenuptial agreement I made you sign and I want us to spend the rest of our lives side by side."

She let out another cry.

He elaborated. "If I die, I want you to have everything that was mine. Understand? I want us to have kids, Emma. Nieces and nephews for Mandy to grow up with. I want-"

"Stop." She threw her arms around him. "It's enough. You got me." She rained kisses on his jaw, his neck, his chin. "And no more talk about dyin', Jonas Bravo. I want you alive."

He put his hands on her waist and slid them down, until he had a good grip on her round bottom. He lifted her. She jumped up to him eagerly, wrapping those gorgeous legs around him. He started walking toward the hallway, turning down it once he reached it.

"Which one is your bedroom?"

She laughed. "I thought you said we were going home."

"We are. In a few minutes. This won't take long. Which way?"

He went where she pointed. Into a yellow room with a white bed and white curtains on the windows. He laid her down and quickly dispensed with her clothes.

She held out her arms to him.

But before he went into them, he reached in a pocket and took out her wedding ring. He slipped it back on her hand where it belonged.

"Never leave me again."

"Never," she vowed, and lifted her soft lips to receive his kiss.

Sometimes, in the years to come, Jonas would wake in the night and turn his head and see his wife sleeping at his side. He would remember the dream that had haunted him for thirty years, the dream that had carried the clue that had led him to find his lost brother at last. He would remember the man he had been before he knew Emma, and he would feel pride at what he had become, through her guidance and her wisdom and her love.

And he would know grat.i.tude.

Not only to his wife, but to the women who had shaped her. To a west Texas waitress named Ca.s.sandra Hewitt. And to Blythe, who on her deathbed had seen to it that he got his chance with Emma, whether he thought that he wanted that chance or not.

He was a fortunate man. And not because of his billions. Because when he woke in the morning, he did not wake alone. When he climbed the stairs at night, it was with Emma at his side. Her love was his fortune.

He was the richest man alive.

end.