The Restaurant

"My first night out should be special," he pleaded.

"Are you sure?" she asked again. "Yesterday you weren't able to stand even your boxers."

"That was yesterday. Things are much better today. And you've had a long day…"

She eyed him suspiciously. "You know Jr. isn't ready to play, don't you? You could do serious damage if you let him out too soon."

"Jr. will stay safely tucked away, I promise. Can't a guy want to take his girl out for dinner without have ulterior motives?"

"Most guys can; you…no, I seriously doubt it."

"Oh come on, Em. I've been stuck here for ages."

"Three days isn't forever."

"It is when you are on a case and I'm here alone," he whined. Then looking at her mischievously he added, "couldn't even ask Jr. to keep me company."

She broke into laughter. "Oh alright, but just dinner. No dessert."

He tilted his head and squinted. "No Boston Crème Pie?"

"Well, that would be okay, but dessert for you is usually something…"

"More private?"

Later, as they sat at their table in the small Italian restaurant that was Dave's favorite, she felt fingers playing along her thigh. She finished the sip of wine that she'd just taken and looked up into his chocolate eyes that never failed to melt her. His look of complete innocence both amused and infuriated her. "Remember, no dessert," she admonished.

"I know," he answered evenly. "But I gotta keep in practice." She shot a daggered look at him but then melted again as his eyes laughed at her. "Besides," he continued, "just because Jr. is out of commission for awhile doesn't mean little Molly can't play."

"Molly?"

"Yeah, Molly."

"You named my…my… parts Molly?"

"I've got other names but they aren't for public places," he teased.

"Dave, you are impossible."

"Impossible what? Impossible to get rid of? Impossible to say no to? Impossibly charming?"

"Just impossible."

"Well, how about this then," he asked. "How about impossibly in love with you."

"I like that one."

"Think you like that? You're gonna like this even more," he said as he slipped his hand into his pocket. Pulling it out, he opened a tiny blue box…a Tiffany's blue box. "Emily Prentiss," he began formally, "would you do me the honor of being my wife?" He looked at her expectantly, fingering the huge diamond ring that rested in the box.

She stared at him, dumbfounded.

Her expression scared him. He'd imagined several responses. This wasn't one of them. "Emily? Babe?"

"You…you want to mmmarry me?"

"Well, that's kind of what the ring is all about…can I put it on your finger? Will you wear my ring?"

"But you've been married before…three times? You said you weren't good at it, that you didn't think the word marriage and your name belonged in the same sentence."

He sighed. "That was before you. I wasn't ready before, not really. And none of those women were you. I know I'm asking you to take a big gamble with me, the odds aren't good. But I promise you Emily, I will do everything I possibly can to make you very happy. I plan to spend everyday of the rest of my life loving you." He studied her still stunned look and leaned back in his chair. "But if my track record is too much for you…I understand and we can just… keep doing what we are doing."

His last words, spoken so softly and sadly, made her blink. Then refocusing on him, taking in his dark eyes and long face, his one eye that cocked slightly higher than the other, his dark goatee and that wonderfully kissable lower lip and she made her decision. She didn't want to live without that face in her life. "Yes," she finally said.

"Yes? Yes, my track record is too much?"

"No. I mean… yes, I will wear your ring. Yes, I will marry you."