She caught her breath. "I'm not reluctant..." She gave him a coy smile. "Look who's talking. What's your excuse - or is it simply your slow southern way that makes you drag your feet? Do all you Southerners have to take your time about everything?"
A light came into his eyes and he stroked her neck softly. "Some things are much better that way."
A rush of blood raced to her head, pumping against his fingers. He smiled and she pushed his hand away.
"I wouldn't know. Obviously you're the one with all the experience."
He chuckled "No, all southern men aren't slow - and obviously all California women aren't fast."
He was evading the issue again. "You know what I'm talking about. But then, I forgot. You like to do the asking - only you're afraid to take control. Am I going to have to take the reins?"
His eyebrows shot up. "Hold your horses before you wind up with a run away team." He gripped her shoulders and gazed into her eyes. "There are three little words I'd like to hear from you before we go any further."
She stared at him, puzzled. "I love you?"
"Are you asking me, or telling me?"
She laughed softly. "Wrong punctuation? How about this?" She slipped her arms around his neck and drew his mouth down to hers. His lips were warm, and they sought hers eagerly. His hands were warm on her waist as he drew her close, and she molded her body to his. When she finally drew back, they were both breathing heavily. She gazed up into his dark eyes and spoke in a voice choked with emotion.
"I love you."
He smiled and spoke in a voice equally shaken. "This time you put the punctuation at the beginning of the statement. Keep trying. You're improving."
She stomped her foot in mock exasperation. "You're stalling. I knew you couldn't do it."
He sighed heavily. "I take it you don't have time for the down-on-one-knee thing."
Without warning he grabbed her hand and jerked her toward the verandah.
"Just a minute," she said.
"No, you wanted a take-charge kind of man. Come on."
He tugged her across the verandah, and Mr. O'Hara stood as they approached, his eyes sparkling with humor. Justin stopped in front of him, still holding her hand captive.
"Mr. O'Hara, I'd like to have your daughters hand in marriage."
Megan tried to tug her hand from his, but he held it in a firm grip. Warmth flooded her neck and face. Everyone was watching.
Mr. O'Hara glanced at his wife, who smiled at him in a wise way. He stared down at Megan, eyes dancing with humor.