Setting the ripped wrapping paper on the coffee table, she opened the gift box, then pushed aside several layers of gold tissue paper to reveal a hand-size ceramic statue of a snowman. A snowman holding an arc of mini snowballs. Jilly's eyes goggled as she read the message spelled out on those little white balls: I Love You.

Certain she'd developed a freakishly sudden need for reading glasses, she carefully lifted the statue from its nest of tissue, then turned it toward the light. She sucked in a sharp breath. Holy smokes, it really did read I Love You.

Her gaze swiveled to his. "I don't understand."

He raked his hands through his hair. "Damn. Not the three words I was hoping for." He studied her face, and clearly she looked as stunned as she felt because he said, "I've surprised you."

"Surprised doesn't even begin to describe what I'm feeling." Hope raced through her, barreling over her confusion. "I mean I don't understand how one minute you can say you don't want to continue our affair, yet in the next give me this. What do you mean?"

He shifted closer to her, then cupped her face between his hands. "I mean I love you. With all my heart." He leaned forward and kissed her so softly, so tenderly, with such restrained passion that Jilly's insides turned to syrup. When he pulled back, she had to struggle to catch her breath. Who the heck had stolen all the oxygen from the room?

His serious gaze searched hers. "You said that surprised doesn't begin to describe what you're feeling. Any chance you'd like to deal me in on what you are feeling?"

Jilly looked at him, so earnest and handsome, his heart in his eyes. And the floodgates of her own heart simply opened. He'd laid his cards on the table, and it was time for her to do the same. "I feel that I haven't been able to stop thinking about you for so much as a minute. I feel that you're all the things I've ever wanted in a man, all tied up in an incredible package. And I feel like the luckiest woman on the planet because I just found out that the man I love loves me back."

He briefly squeezed his eyes shut and murmured something that sounded like thank you, God. When he opened his eyes, he smiled. "And just how do you know that you're the luckiest woman on the planet? Have you met every woman on the planet?"

"I don't need to. I just know." Pressing her hand over the spot where her heart slapped frantically against her ribs, she perfectly mimicked his earlier response. "In here."

"You love me."

She turned her face and pressed a kiss against his palm, which still rested against her cheek. "Very much."

"You have no idea how glad I am to hear that." He nodded toward the snowman's box. "There's something else in there."

"More presents?"

"’Tis the season, you know."

As if in a daze, Jilly set her snowman on the table, then fingered through the tissue paper until she found a small silver key. Holding it aloft, she asked, "What is this-the key to your heart?"

"Something like that." Again Matt reached into his shopping bag then gently placed the item he withdrew onto her lap.

She stared at the shoebox-size metal strongbox, completely mystified. "What's this?"

"It's the best strongbox on the market, completely fireproof, and virtually indestructible. A must-have for hiding all those valuables you don't want to risk falling into the wrong hands."

Okay, so it wasn't the most romantic of Christmas gifts, and clearly he was the sort of guy who preferred to buy his holiday presents at the hardware store rather than Victoria's Secret, but she could live with that. Practicality was good. She smiled. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. But don't thank me until you open it."

Jilly's heart tripped over itself. Clasping the key, she inserted it into the silver lock. Then drawing a deep breath, she lifted the lid.

Everything in her stilled as she stared at the contents. The entire bottom of the strongbox was covered with a layer of chocolate-covered marshmallows. White chocolate letters, scrawled across the top of each marshmallow, spelled out the question, Will You Marry Me?

Jilly squeezed her eyes shut. Good grief, she really did need those reading glasses. But when she reopened her eyes, the message, incredibly, remained. Tears misted her eyes, and her bottom lip trembled. This man… this wonderful, generous, sweet, kind, romantic, beautiful man was going to be the death of her. But, wow, what a way to go.

She raised her gaze to his, noting how completely frazzled and anxious he looked. Clearing her throat, she said in a conspiratorial whisper, "It would appear that the guy at the candy store really, really likes me."

His eyes widened with an expression bordering on panic. "The guy in the candy store didn't write that message-I did!"

Guilt slapped her for teasing him. The poor guy really looked worried. "I know, Matt, I was only kidding."

"I'll have you know that I made those chocolate marshmallows all by myself. Melted the chocolate and everything. And let me tell you, I am to cooking what Julia Child is to Sumo wrestling. I set off the damn smoke alarm-twice-and that chocolate gets hot." He held up his index finger. "Look. I got a blister."

Deeply touched and more than a little amused, she grasped his hand and brought it her mouth, bestowing a gentle kiss on his injured fingertip. "Better?"

His expression relaxed, but he was clearly not ready for her to abandon her ministrations, because he shook his head. "I think I need some more TLC. Lots of TLC. Proposing is very exhausting, traumatic, and harrowing work. Especially the part when you're, ahem, waiting for an answer."

Dear God, he really did look worried. "So this is what you meant when you said we shouldn't continue our affair?"

He lightly grasped her shoulders, then leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "I don't just want to have an affair with you, Jilly. I love you and want to share my life with you. Not for just a few weeks or months, but forever. As husband and wife." He leaned back and Jilly looked into his eyes, which were so serious and intense and filled with love. For her. "Will you marry me?"

A sense of completeness, of happiness, unlike anything she'd ever known, suffused her. Matt didn't want to control her life-he wanted to share it. "I want all those same things, Matt," she whispered. "Yes. I'll marry you."

Anything else she might have thought to say was lost as his lips covered hers in a kiss filled with love and passion and promise for the future. By the time he lifted his head, she was breathing hard, and thankful she was sitting down because she'd lost all sensation in her knees.

"There's one more thing in my shopping bag," Matt said, a hint of deviltry gleaming in his eyes. He reached in, then handed her a sprig of fresh mistletoe.

Jilly laughed and twirled the sprig between her fingers. "Hmmm. I think I'm finally ready to claim my prize."

"Oh? What do you want?"

"I want the three of us-you, me, and Mr. Mistletoe-to retire to my bedroom and see what sort of Christmas mischief we can get into."

He pretended to ponder her proposal. "Can we bring your chocolate-covered marshmallows?"

"Absolutely. Whaddaya say, handsome?"

"I say Merry Christmas and bring on the mischief, sweetheart."

Jacquie D’Alessandro

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