The Sicilian's Proposition (18 page)

There were three courses in all, starting with pâté or soup, a turkey dinner, and strawberry cheesecake or Christmas pudding for dessert. By the time the coffee and dark chocolate mints arrived, Joanne’s stomach groaned. She made her excuses and left the table for the ladies’ room, all the while looking everywhere for Dante, but there was no sign of him in the large hall and foyer, only the Santa Claus talking to the master of ceremonies. For a second, she considered stopping him and telling him her Christmas wish.

In the ladies’ room she brushed her hair and applied fresh lipstick.

Oh Dante, where are you? Are you still in Sicily?

By the time she got back to the table, the dancing had begun and she watched couples take to the floor, feeling envious they had one another. As the evening wore on and slow tunes started playing, all hopes of seeing Dante again were dwindling away; these were the last dances of the evening.

An announcement was made for everyone to take their seats as Santa Claus was coming back on the stage. He walked on, dragging his sack behind him, and turned to the crowd and waved at everyone. The female
compere
for the evening handed him a microphone.

The woman looked at him and said, “So Santa, you’ve worked hard this evening.” He nodded with enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t you like a rest now?” He shook his head with vigor.

“Santa Claus would like to sing a song,” she announced, stepping away.

Joanne quirked an eyebrow and looked at Polly, who shrugged. “Do you think he’s drunk or something?”

“I wouldn’t have thought so, maybe he just likes singing,” Polly said in a matter-of-fact manner.

The band started playing a sultry love song.
Hang on a moment, didn’t she recognize this melody?

Santa straightened up and, looking at the audience, began to sing.

The words of love made her spine tingle. She remembered now the last time she’d heard the song was on a hotel balcony. Santa Claus was walking across the stage and down the steps and was now headed toward their table. Not only that, his gaze appeared to be fixed on her. Was this part of the act or something? Santa carried on singing until he finished the song and then stopped in front of her, crouching on one knee.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, the spotlight now directed on her. Her face was hot and flushed, and her heart beat a tattoo.

It couldn’t be? Could it?

“Joanne, I love you, please will you honor me by being my wife?”

She gazed intently into his deep chocolate brown eyes; there was no mistaking the eyes or the Italian accent that made her tremble.

“Dante!” she said, and they both stood and she fell into his arms. She whispered into his ear, “But aren’t you still with Carla?”

He shook his head. “That was over a long time ago. When my memory returned, I remembered how I felt about you. I’ll explain it all later. You haven’t answered the question.”

She stood staring at him, unable to believe what was happening. All this time, she had believed he’d forgotten what they shared together. It might not be easy taking up the reins again. Maybe she’d be taking a chance, but no man had ever made her feel the way Dante Alphonso did. “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you,” she said, breathless but with a joyful heart.

He pulled down his hood, removed his beard, and looked the happiest she had ever seen him. It was fantastic to see him looking so well again after all he’d been through. Playfully, she ruffled his hair.

“That’s just as well as I have a gift for you.”

He dipped into his Santa sack and handed her a small black velvet box, which he opened to display an emerald engagement ring that sparkled and shone beneath the lights.

“Joanne, I could not imagine my life without you in it.”

Tears filled her eyes. She had waited all her life for this moment. Gently, he slipped the ring onto her finger and kissed her, that tender kiss she remembered so well as all the memories of Sicily and him came flooding back to meet her.

Everyone in the hall was standing and cheering as snow started falling from the ceiling. People gasped with delight while Dante and Joanne’s kiss went on and on as they became covered in a mountain of snowflakes.

“I’m just taking my new wife-to-be to the North Pole, everyone!” he shouted at the crowd and waved a gloved hand at them.

Joanne looked at Polly. “You knew about this, didn’t you?” she accused with a hint of mirth in her voice.

Polly shrugged. “I might have. I might not have. Now off you go, you’ve been a good girl for Santa this year.”

Joanne laughed as Dante scooped her up in his arms and carried her toward the lift. She just knew she was about to end up in his room, in his bed, and in his life.

To date, Lynette Rees has had several romance novels published.  She lives in South Wales and has been writing since she was old enough to pick up a pen.  At school, the teacher often read her stories out to the class, allowing her to believe she could tell a good tale.  As a teenager she could often be found at night under a blanket with a torch, devouring the latest story in romance magazines, when she should have been fast asleep.  These days she doesn’t need to hide her voracious reading habits and can happily read whenever she likes.

http://www.lynetterees.com