Before she did, though, she stepped into each child's bedroom and gave each an extra-special hug. She loved them—there was no denying that fact.

But did she love them enough to give up her world, to give up life as she knew it?

Of course she was getting ahead of herself again. Jake hadn't said a word about a future together. She was worrying about something that was never going to happen. Jake was a superstar, a man recognized around the world. She was a nobody, an unknown. The thought of them forging a partnership, a union, was incomprehensible.

So what if he had made love to her? He'd probably made love to a thousand other women. That didn't mean she was anything special.

But, oh, he made her feel special. The memories of his touch sent goose bumps popping up across her skin. She'd never felt such closeness, such a bonding with another human.

Would she ever feel it again?

The thought hit her like a rockslide. Life without that intimacy would be a cold life indeed. She stumbled to her room, barely managed to change into a white cotton nightgown, and fell across her bed. She was asleep before another coherent thought could pass through her brain.

 

Jake couldn't sleep. He kept envisioning Marty before him, that fucking Hammond standing in front of her pointing a pistol directly at her head. God, when he saw that he'd felt a cold, hard anger overtake him. He'd never hated anyone as much as he loathed Bobby Hammond. Bobby Hammond—tormentor of children, killer of innocent women.

Jake hadn't been able to stop Hammond last time. He'd murdered his sister, took her away from her kids, from a brother who loved her. He wasn't going to get away with it again. He wasn't going to kill Marty.

The thought flashed through his mind as he pulled the trigger. Bobby Hammond was a dead man…and he was the man who killed him.

He finally fell into a restless sleep, a sleep filled with disturbing dreams and moments of wakeful fretfulness. Marty, naked beneath him. Marty, smiling in the sunshine. Marty, waiting bravely to die when Hammond confronted her in the closet.

Jake didn't feel guilty for killing Bobby Hammond. No, if he was honest, he had to admit he'd taken a certain pleasure in ridding the earth of that varmint. But the thought of Marty leaving in just a few days—that was the thought really upsetting him.

Could he really let her go? Could he stand not seeing her every day, not being able to kiss her or hold her close?

It had only been a few weeks since he met the woman. How could he fall in love so fast?

He didn't have the answer to that question. Only a hundred other questions.

Was he really ready to say goodbye to other women? To his bachelor lifestyle, his carefree ways? After all, he was Jake Stryker. He could have almost any woman he wanted.

Problem was, the only woman he wanted was Marty Donahue.

 

Marty awoke just as the sun was creeping over the horizon. Memories of yesterday's events rushed through her, but she felt much calmer than she had last night. She sat on the edge of the bed and stretched, her gaze straying to the French doors that led onto the balcony. She couldn't resist the lure of the soft beams of sunlight playing there and made her way over to the doors and flung them open.

Stepping out on the terrace, she drew in a deep breath of sweet dawn air. The world spangled with dew, the horizon was streaked with ribbons of coral, rose, and lavender. It was a new day, a new dawn. The world suddenly felt brighter, fresher, than it ever had before.

 

Jake had finally fallen into a deep sleep, only to awaken as the first beams of morning light made their way into his room. He drew in a deep breath and stretched his arms far above his head, giving a bellow of contentment. Somehow he knew what he had to do now. His questions were all answered, his path lain out straight.

A grin played across his beard-shadowed face as he climbed from the bed and made his ways to the French doors leading onto the balcony. Stepping out on the wooden terrace wearing only his boxer briefs felt liberating.

Right up until he saw Marty standing there.

Marty couldn't breathe. Jake stood there like a bronzed statue in the early morning sunlight, his body barely concealed by the close-fitting navy boxers he wore. His shoulder muscles rippled, his flat abs highlighted by a sunbeam. She blinked, wondering if she was still asleep, dreaming of Jake.

But no. He was definitely real—and he was headed her way.

It was the first real moment they'd had alone since the shooting.

And there was something purifying about it.

Suddenly there was a connection that shot between them, an understanding so clear that it could not be denied. He reached out and took her hands, his gaze scanning over her, taking in her tumbling red-gold curls, the sweet curves of her figure outlined by the white cotton gown pressed against her body by the gentle morning breeze.

She eyed him trustingly, her soul beginning to sing a quiet song, swelling within her as she looked into his eyes.

"I love you, Marty Donahue."

"I love you, Jake Stryker."

"You remember the day you were trying to explain love to Bobby?" His deep brown gaze focused intently on her. She didn't answer, simply nodded.

"I think that's the moment I knew I loved you. Because I heard your soul singing to mine."

His words were so soft she had to listen closely to hear what he was saying, but her heart responded loud and clear. God, she loved this man.

Then, right there on the balcony, clad only in his boxers, Jake dropped to his knee in front of her nightgown-clad body. "I know this isn't the most romantic place. I'm sure not wearing a romantic wardrobe, but I can't wait any longer. I have to know." He took her hand in his. "Marty, you came into my life and painted your way into my heart. I can't explain it, I don't understand it, but you are so important to me." He stopped, his breath catching in his throat, then continued. "As necessary as air."

Marty's stomach fell to the floor. Was it supposed to feel like someone hit you in the gut when they proposed? He was proposing, wasn't he?

"I love you, Marty. I've almost lost you twice now and I don't ever want to let you go. But you know I'm a package deal. I'm going to adopt the twins and I want someone who understands that…and who loves them. Like you do."

He paused again and raised her hand to his lips then lifted his eyes to hers. "Marty Donahue, you make my soul sing. Will you marry me, be my best friend, my partner, the mother of my children, for all the rest of our lives?"

Marty didn't understand any of it. How had it happened so fast? How was she going to deal with this change in her lifestyle? Was she actually going to marry a musician?

She pulled him to his feet as smile broke across her face and she nodded her answer. Hell yes, she was going to marry a musician. There might be issues to deal with, problems to overcome, but she knew without a doubt that they would be singing beautiful soul songs together until the end of time.