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“Only one?” Her skepticism was on point.
“One, for now.” He grinned, proud of her. “But I reserve the right to renegotiate if any of these bloody Yanks get out of hand.”
“Acceptable. Name the condition.”
“If Clark dives down this rabbit hole, you don’t go in after him without me.” A doctor leading a team of criminals, former military, and spies—the world really had gone to hell. He might as well get in the handbasket.
“I believe that might possibly be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She gave him a considering look. “And the most unselfish.”
“Don’t you paint me with that brush, m’lady. If I’m to ask for your hand in marriage, Little Lord Fauntleroy in there needs to be alive for me to do it. Call my participation an investment in our future.”
Addy’s laughter pealed out of her like bells ringing. “Would you at least do me the courtesy of asking me first?”
“Right after we make sure your brother survives this latest venture. I didn’t save his life all those years ago to watch him toss it overboard.”
Turning into him, Addy slid her arms around his neck. “I love you, too.”
“I know.” The knowledge gave him super powers.
She tucked her head against his shoulder, and he let the perfection of the moment wash over him. “What did Clark mean when he said you had to be a fan of Ian Fleming? I thought you didn’t like those movies?”
Then again, if her brother didn’t make it, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. “I’ll read you in. Give me six months.”
“Six months?” Disbelief populated those two syllables.
“It’s need to know, and in six months, you’ll need to know.” Especially since they’d optioned one of his books to turn into a movie, and he’d have to go to the premiere. “Trust me?”
“Yes.” No hesitation at all. It was the only question that mattered. Everything else they could take care of themselves.
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