Out of Her League(102)

By: Samantha Wayland

And, well, what the hell was she supposed to say to that? He’d left her speechless, but her smile must have been answer enough, because then he was kissing her, bending her over his arm and capturing her mouth right in front of god and country and the New York fucking Times. Her heart swelled, practically bursting with joy as her hands cupped his cheeks and she kissed him back.

With a final peck, he set her back on her feet, his cheeks bright pink and his eyes sparkling with laughter.

“Wow,” she said dazedly.

“I thought a more public declaration of intent was in order,” he said mildly, as if he hadn’t just blow her mind. “Should I apologize?”

“Apologize?” She gave a breathless laugh. “Don’t you dare. Though I don’t need to tell you that you’ve just broken every rule in Michaela’s Rules for Managing the Public.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he said, though he sounded utterly unapologetic. “It turns out a lot of that goes directly against Lachlan’s Manifesto on Protecting the People He Loves.”

Her heart stopped in her chest, even as a smile bloomed on her face. “It’s a manifesto, huh?”

Lachlan’s gaze held her captive. “Well, I guess I have a lot to say on the subject.”

“And I can’t wait to hear it,” she assured him. Then she tilted her head toward the source of the still-endless strobe lighting. “But maybe not while we have such an avid audience.”

He glanced up at the hundreds of eyes and dozens of cameras fixed on them. “Good point.”

She took his hand. “And for what it’s worth, I love you, too.”

“It’s worth everything,” he said quietly, threading his fingers through hers. “Now, come on. Introduce me to your parents. I’m pretty sure I didn’t make a very good first impression.”

She blinked innocently. “You think?”

“Well, it could have been worse,” he said with mock defensiveness, tucking her hand in his elbow and turning toward her parents, “It could have been windy tonight.”

Michaela stumbled, her mouth dropping open. “You didn’t,” she breathed. “You aren’t.”

Lachlan grinned. “I am.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Care to find a deserted coat room and conduct a proper kilt inspection later?”

“Oh, my god,” she gasped. “I really do.”

Then she looked at all the people around them and laughed, mouth open, head thrown back, eyes closed, and not giving one good goddamn what the pictures would look like in the morning.