But he knew.

Then again, Lane knew everything about her, and this proposal was perfect. Nothing showy, or fancy, and no, she didn’t want some big diamond from him, either. All she needed was him. All she wanted was the two of them together.

So they were starting this engagement off on the right foot as far as she was concerned.

Yes, Lane was surrounded by chaos. Yes, there was no way of knowing how any of this was going to shake out. And no, most women with half a brain wouldn’t sign on for someone with his background—not even the gold diggers, now.

But love had a funny way of giving you faith in the one who loved you back. And nothing was guaranteed in life, neither riches nor health. At the end of the day, you just had to let yourself go … and the best place to land was in the arms of a good man.

As pleasure rocketed through her, Lizzie called out his name and felt his head drop into her neck as he cursed and jerked deep inside of her. So beautiful. So perfect. Especially as he hugged her close afterward.

“God, I love you,” he said in her ear. “You’re the only thing that makes sense right now.”

“I’m not scared,” she whispered. “You and I are going to figure this out. Somehow. And we’re going to be okay. That’s all that matters to me.”

Inching back, his blue eyes were the stuff of romance novels, reverent, sincere, full of love. “I’m going to get you a ring.”

“I don’t want one.” She stroked his hair again, flattening it where she had messed it up. “I don’t like anything on my hands or my wrists. Not with my job.”

“So a diamond watch is out?”

“Definitely—”

His phone rang in his pocket and he shook his head. “I don’t care who that is. I’m not—”

“You should probably—”

He settled the issue by kissing her, his body starting to move again. And Lizzie went along with it. There were so many worse things in life than making love with your new fiancé on a warm Kentucky night.

The problems would be waiting for them when they were finished. This little slice of heaven? Was only for the two of them.

A party no one else was invited to.

SEVENTEEN

By the time the crème caramel was cleared, Sutton was ready to scream. It wasn’t the conversation. Governor Dagney Boone and Thomas Georgetow, the president of the University of Charlemont, were great company, two of the most powerful men in the state bantering back and forth like the old friends they were. The other people around the table were also wonderful: Georgetow’s wife, Beryline, was as Southern and lovely as a sweet tea on a hot afternoon, and the Reverend and Mrs. Nyce, the leaders of the largest Baptist community in the state, were as solid as granite and as uplifting as a sunbeam.

Under any other circumstances, she would have enjoyed the evening. Sure, there was an underlying purpose to it, but they were all good people, and the family chef had outdone himself.

Edward, however, had managed to ruin it for her. If that man stayed up nights trying to get under her skin, he couldn’t do a better job.

Dagney was not interested in her. That was crazy.

“So …” The governor eased back in the Queen Anne style chair to Sutton’s right. “I think we should all thank Miss Smythe for her hospitality.”

As coffee cups were raised, Sutton shook her head. “It’s been my pleasure.”

“No, it’s been ours.”

The governor smiled at her, and God help her, all she could hear was Edward’s voice in her head. And that led to other things, other memories. Especially of the last time she had gone to see him when they had—

Stop it, she told herself.

“We missed your father tonight,” the governor said.

“Yes, how is he?” the Reverend Nyce asked.

Sutton took a deep breath. “Well, actually, you all will hear the details tomorrow, but he’s stepping down. And I am replacing him as CEO.”

There was a momentary lull, and then Dagney said, “Congratulations and condolences at the same time.”

“Thank you.” She inclined her head. “It’s a complicated time personally, but professionally, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“The Sutton Distillery Corporation could not be in better hands.” The governor smiled and toasted her with his decaf. “And I look forward to presenting you with some of our new tax code proposals. You’re one of the biggest employers in the state.”

It was strange, but she could feel the shift toward her, the people at the table, even the governor, regarding her with a different focus. She’d sensed it first at the finance committee meeting this morning, and then when she’d interacted with senior management throughout the day. Positional power, it was called—and with the torch changing hands, the respect her father had been paid was now hers by virtue of her promotion.

“And this is why I asked you all here,” she said.

“I would have come happily for the dessert,” the Reverend Nyce said as he gestured to his clean plate. “That was evidence of the good Lord, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Amen,” Georgetow interjected. “I would ask for seconds—”

“But I would tell his doctor,” Beryline finished for him.

“She is my conscience.”

Sutton waited for the laughter to die down, and then she found herself fighting back tears. Clearing her throat, she composed herself.

“My father means the world to me.” She looked up to the portrait of him that hung on the wall on the opposite end of the room. “And I would like to recognize his contributions to this state and the community of Charlemont in some significant ways. After much thought, I would like to endow a chair at the University of Charlemont in economics in his name. I have a check for five million dollars to that end, and I am prepared to gift that amount tonight.”

There was a gasp from the president—and with good reason. She knew damn well gifts that big didn’t come in every day to the university, and certainly not without considerable plying and cultivation on their part. Yet here she was, tossing it into his lap. After his favorite dessert.

Georgetow sat back in his chair. “I am … I had no idea—thank you. The university thanks you for this, and it will be an honor to have his name further associated with the school.”