Once Upon A Scheme

by MrandMrsPerryMason

Perry and Della are going to Chicago to visit her family for Christmas. What news do they share from Perry's conference in New York. Who's idea was better-Perry's or Della’s?

A/N These characters were created by ESG, and I am using them for our enjoyment. I apologize that it wasn't finished during the Holiday season. Special thanks to Veronica for the story photo, Sonia for the editing, and Sallye for her advice and storyline assistance.

The door to their train compartment was closed and Perry Mason was grinning ear to ear at his travelling companion, Della Street. The boarding process was over, and they were finally on their own without the curious eyes of their assigned steward hovering. Coming to join her on the edge of the berth, he put his arm around her and drew her close. Resting his mouth next to her ear, he confided, "I am so glad you suggested we travel by train. There's something special about a cross-country trip at Christmastime. I think the line goes all out for the season."

She smiled. "And it delays our arrival for a few days. I'm not fooled; you're nervous about facing my family."

He didn't pretend to look abashed. "Naturally. Plus, it gives us a longer respite from the office, and the alone time together is a nice perk." He pressed his lips to her cheek. "I happen to love my wife, and I'm not afraid to show it!"

She turned, looking at him directly. "I was somewhat surprised you didn't want to fly. I know you prefer air travel in general. It was a lovely gesture conceding to my suggestion." Her mouth curved up in a mischievous smile deliberately used to bait him.

He swallowed it whole. "Now Mrs. Mason, how was I supposed to argue with you when you were straddled across my legs wearing only your wedding band?"

She swatted him. "Perry!"

He chuckled low, nudging her with his shoulder. "Besides, we get time together before your family monopolizes you. When they find out we're married, I won't have a moment alone with you the rest of the vacation!"

"They aren't that bad," she protested, but she knew what he meant. Her parents had been waiting for the day when she became a bride. They were going to want every detail, and they weren't going to rest until they were satisfied.

Perry, admiring the way she disappeared into her thoughts, lowered his voice. "I may be stubborn, and perhaps a little slow, but I'm not granite, Della. Seducing me to get your way is a win-win for both of us. You got me on the train, we avoided the crowded airport and countless delays, and we can stretch out on this lovely bed . . ."

He wrapped his arms around her, then kissed her with enthusiasm. To his eternal delight, she responded, warming to his touch. His mouth moved from her lips to her throat as he slowly lowered her to her back.

"Best of all," she breathed, looking deeply into his eyes as his head came up, "you don't have to wait until nightfall to make love to me."

His dimples flashed as she pulled him back down. "You know how much I hate waiting," he mumbled.

Sometime later, when they were presentable again, Della stood before the mirror in their private lavatory, putting finishing touches on her makeup. Perry watched her from the main cabin, treasuring the sight of her doing something so completely normal. Before their marriage, she never let him see her without every hair in place or her makeup perfection. Now he had the privilege of seeing everything, and he loved it.

"There. What do you think? Will I do?" Della turned to face him. "Do you think anyone will be able to see what we've been up to?"

He smiled sweetly. "That's one of the perks of being on a honeymoon, darling."

She nodded. "Well, considering our marriage came out of nowhere, I suppose you have a point. When you went to that conference, marriage was the furthest thing from my mind. At first, anyway."

"I really did go for business. But I'm not crabbing." He came to where she stood and took both of her hands in his. "I've discovered just recently that I can't rest without you. Not that you've given me much rest . . ."

She blushed all the way to her hairline. "You knew very well what you were doing, going clear across the country like that, knowing I would be pining."

"What are you saying?" he asked, dropping her hands to take one of her elbows. They moved toward the door.

"I'm saying," she stretched to kiss him lightly on the cheek, "very shrewd, Mr. Mason. Very shrewd, indeed."

THE WAY THINGS WERE

"This is the last one," Della informed her boss as she passed a freshly typed brief to him.

Perry carefully placed it in his briefcase. His brows were furrowed, but he wasn't frowning. A moment later he closed and locked it. "Are you sure you won't change your mind?"

She shook her head.

He looked disappointed. With a sigh, he reminded, "You have the itinerary for the conference in case you need me. And you made the reservations, so you know where I'll be staying." He didn't add In case you want to join me. "I'll let you know when I check in and get settled. I am going to miss you, darling."

And I'm going to be miserable without you, she told him silently. Aloud she said with more confidence than she felt, "I will be fine, just fine. New York is just beautiful this time of year, I understand. The conference is important, and secretaries have no business being underfoot."

He tried one last time. "You could play tourist during the day, and in the evenings we could—"

"No," she said firmly. "While you're away, I have things to handle here. Things that never seem to get done because we are always on the go. The law library alone needs a woman's touch to set it to rights."

"But—"

She shook her head. "I'm going to miss you, sweetheart, but I'm not going."

Once they completed their tasks at the office, Perry drove them to a quiet restaurant for dinner before they adjourned to his apartment. Together they selected what he was going to wear, and she packed his toiletries while he handled his unmentionables. While he was distracted, Della slipped a picture of herself in with his shaving kit. Ten minutes later his two suitcases were in the living room with his briefcase carefully placed on top.

"Della," he said quietly, watching her as she fussed in the kitchen. The smell of coffee permeated the space. She was purposefully not looking at him. Although he couldn't see her face, he knew she was silently crying.

"It just hit me," she said after a moment. Her voice was soft and strained. "Two weeks. A lifetime."

"It doesn't have to be spent apart."

She turned to look at him. The tears she didn't want him to see were in her eyes, unshed. "I'm still an independent woman, Perry. I'm fully grown, and able to survive fourteen days without your . . . without you."

He opened his arms, and she came to him. Together they stood in the embrace for a long time. After a while, when her tears stopped, he pressed his lips to her soft auburn curls and leaned his cheek against her hair.

"You may be right, darling. But I'm not so strong. I don't do well without you. You anchor me in a way I can't explain. You're my heartbeat, I think." He felt her sigh. "Ready to call it a night?"

She looked up at him. "Two whole weeks. You can sleep on the plane, Mr. Mason. Tonight, there's no rest for the wicked."

He grinned. "Minx!"

In the morning they rose with the alarm, took a shower together, and dressed. Although he hadn't planned for her to go with him, Della insisted on seeing him off from the airport. Walking him to the gate, she gallantly held her head up and didn't cry once. Just before he left he gathered her in his arms and gave her a searing kiss neither would soon forget.

"Remember, if you want to come, I'll be waiting for you, and money isn't an issue," he told her, his lips close to her ear to be heard over the roar of the engines. "I could spoil you like crazy, and the press wouldn't give one damn. We could just be us, not our job descriptions."

She almost weakened. "Perry—"

He hugged her tightly, then released her and walked away, not trusting himself to look back.

The first few days passed in a blur. Della kept herself busy with the tasks she had assigned herself at the office and had even managed to work in personal goals as well. Paul Drake, Perry's best friend and her adopted brother, took her to lunch each day and made sure she remembered to stop for the day in time for dinner. The office was humming with efficiency and good humor, and each day the mail (Perry's least-favorite task) was handled without complaint.

To her surprise, Perry had arranged for fresh flowers to be delivered to the office each morning, and other gifts arrived at the apartment. Dressed in one of Perry's pajamas shirts, Della was curled up on the bed as she waited for his nightly phone call. In the stillness of the room she closed her eyes, picturing him as he had looked at the airport. The longing for him had increased steadily from the moment he had turned away until now, when she could barely breathe without feeling her heart stab her conscious.

Should I accept his offer? I miss him far more than I ever thought I would. Some independent woman I turned out to be! If I go I'll have to make arrangements with the office, and I suppose I'll have to summon up the courage to get on a plane. If there was one thing she hated, it was flying. But the idea had germinated and now was growing. I'll check the calendar in the morning, and if nothing is on the docket, I'll see about taking my two weeks' vacation. Still, better not say anything about it tonight. Until I know for sure this is what I'm going to do, I'd just as soon not get his hopes up.

So it was that when Perry called a few minutes later, she kept the seed of her plan from coming to light.

Once Della arrived at the office the following morning, she carried out her plan. A quick glance at the calendar showed her boss had no scheduled court cases for several weeks, and aside from the quarterly dinner with the American Bar Association, he had no firm commitments. Still, she debated with herself. Closing the office without discussing it with Perry was a risk—a big one. On the other hand, if she were really going to fly across the country to be with him, she didn't want to see him only on breaks between seminars or in the evenings. She wanted quality time.

"Okay, Della Street, it's time to fish or cut bait," she told herself aloud as she reached for the phone on Perry's desk. "You've made the decision and now it's time to set things in motion. Don't you dare chicken out!"

An hour later she had spoken with the office staff, explaining that Mr. Mason was extending his stay in New York, and would be temporarily closing the office until three weeks hence. To Gertie, the loyal receptionist, she offered a few extra details, explaining that the Chief had requested she join him in New York. Always the romantic, Gertie voiced the dream she had that the two were finally going to elope. Della didn't bother to correct her.

And that just leaves Aunt Mae. Della's aunt, living in Bolero Beach, was her closest relative—geographically and emotionally speaking—and her confidant. If she wanted to surprise Perry, Mae was the best option for helping her with the ruse.

She picked up the receiver and spun the rotary dial. Counting the rings, she was up to number four when she heard her aunt's soft but slightly gruff voice.

"Hello?"

"Aunt Mae! I hope I didn't interrupt your day."

"Nonsense, girl! I've all the time in the world, and talking with you is always the highlight of my day. But judging by what my clock and stomach are saying, it's almost noon, and you never call this early unless there is something up. So . . . Spill it."

Della laughed at that. "You remember I told you about Perry's conference in New York this month? Well, it's that time. He's been there for several days already, and I—"

"And you're missing him like crazy," her aunt finished. "Well, girl, are you prepared to do something about it?"

"Mind reader! I am! I wanted to give you a heads-up on my travel plans. If you can believe it, I've decided to fly out tomorrow to surprise him."

Mae must have read between the lines, for the next thing she said fell right into place with Della's plans. "If Perry can't reach you, he'll go crazy with worry. You need me to cover for you."

"Well, yes. But please don't lie to him. He would never forgive you."

Her aunt laughed richly. "I didn't live this long without developing a keen ability to evade a direct question. All you need to do is enjoy yourself. Have a good trip and let him spoil you as he should. And Della, if he proposes, accept it."

"Aunt—"

"No, you hear me out. You're made for each other, and no more of your flimsy excuses will change that. You know I'm no stickler for convention, and I've never passed judgment on your situation, but Perry, bless him, is cut from a traditional cloth. There is some sort of need deep within him that makes him long for legal wedlock."

Della sighed. It was one thing to fly to New York and take the city and him by storm. It was quite another to marry him on a whim. "No promises," she said, but even to her own ears she sounded happy and excited.

"Whatever you decide, you have my blessing. Go to Perry and have a wonderful time. I expect post cards."

"I love you, Aunt Mae. We'll catch up soon."

"Safe travels, dear."

Della replaced the receiver in the cradle and leaned back in her seat, a pleased smile starting in her eyes and spreading to her mouth.

Ninety miles away, Mae mirrored her niece's movements. With a mischievous smile, she leaned back and considered what could come of Della's impulsive decision. Then she reached for the telephone once more and quickly dialed a long-distance number she now knew by heart. I should know it; I've only been calling it daily for the last week!

The operator's voice came on the wire, and then after a few minutes, she was rewarded with the baritone voice she knew so well. "Perry? I've just had the most interesting chat with her. I think she's come to her senses at last. You're not supposed to know it, but . . . THE EAGLE HAS FLOWN. Or rather, she'll be flying tomorrow!"

She heard him laugh, and it was like music to her ears.

"I gave her my blessing should she find herself presented with another offer of marriage. I think she just might be persuaded this time. Did you bring the ring with you?"

"It almost never leaves my person," he confided.

"Time to polish it. Keep me updated."

"Thanks, Mae." He sounded lighter and happier than he had in a long time. "Do you think she'll forgive me for the subterfuge? After all, no conference runs longer than a week."

Amusement danced in the older woman's eyes. "Truthfully, I think once she sees you and you've had a chance to work your magic, the last thing she will be is mad. Spoil her, and don't leave New York without putting that ring on her finger. Good luck, my boy!"

She hung up and her smile widened. For years she had helped her favorite lawyer scheme to win Della. And having won her heart, she had further aided him in his heretofore unsuccessful proposals through the years. But this time . . . This time her niece was in the right frame of mind.

Meanwhile, in New York, Perry called the front desk and asked to speak with the hotel manager. Explaining the circumstances, he directed the staff to "play along" with any request Miss Street might make. After his afternoon session he made the trip to the world-famous Tiffany's, where he asked if they would be able to clean the ring and have it ready by the next day. It was sheer luck that the proprietor happened to have earrings and a bracelet that complemented the three-carat ring.

By the time he returned to the hotel he was whistling to himself, his eyes bright with a joy that was unable to be suppressed. Once more in his room, he reached for the phone and asked for the long-distance operator. It was time for the finishing touches. Della would be expecting his call, and he couldn't let it slip that Mae had spilled the beans.

Della answered on the second ring. "Perry! I've waited all day just to talk to you tonight!"

"Hello, darling!" She could almost see the grin splitting his face. "I miss you. I wish you were here."

She temporarily ignored that. Instead she asked, "Tell me all about today's sessions. Did you learn anything that will give Mr. Burger a fit?"

He chuckled a little, but answered calmly, "I think so. This morning's lecture covered legal ways to cloud a witness's memory. I confess, I've never tried to do that, but I have tested witnesses with elaborate, alternative versions."

She snorted. "I remember. That's how you became the proud owner of a set of duplexes, and brand-spanking-new doorbells."

"Miss Street! I'll have you know that investment has already paid dividends! Why, this past year alone I've used the profits from the rent to take us out to dinner at least once a week!"

"Dear Lord, how I've missed you, Mr. Mason!" she confided, loving his quick wit and teasing tone. Then using that as a springboard, she added, "I knocked out everything I set out to accomplish while you're gone."

"Have you?" he asked innocently, willing himself to be patient.

She missed the nuance in his voice. "I have. So as your business partner in the firm, I made a unilateral decision to close the office until you come back."

He let the natural silence that fell swell a moment before he asked, "And you booked yourself a spa day with the girls?"

"Sort of. No spa, but I've already talked with Aunt Mae, and you know how she is. She's chomping at the bit to see me."

There's truth in her evasion, he acknowledged. Mae always seizes on any opportunity to see her.

"So you're taking off for Bolero Beach tomorrow?"

"I'm taking off tomorrow, yes," she confirmed, hoping that he wouldn't notice her omission of the destination.

Perry grinned. That's my girl! She just can't bring herself to lie. I love that about her. "I know Mae will be beside herself with joy when she finally sees you. Do me a favor. When you see her, apologize for me. It's my fault you don't get to visit as often as you should."

"You are so ridiculous! That's far more your clients' fault than yours. Or really, it's the fault of the murderers in this city. If they stopped killing, you could stop representing the innocent, and then we could work on our tans on the beach."

"I can't argue with that," he agreed, then turned serious. "Is there anything I need to know? I know Tragg and Burger are relieved I'm out of town, but I haven't heard from Paul."

"Nothing notable to report." And you aren't going to give a thought to anyone back in Los Angeles when you see me in the Big Apple! "And on that note, King Midas, this call has gone on longer than it should. It must be costing you a fortune!"

"I'm good for it," he assured her. "But, even so, a gentleman knows when his love is ready to say goodbye." He lowered his voice. "I love you with all my heart, darling. Dream of me tonight. Good night."

"Good night, Counselor," she purred.

He gently replaced the receiver in the cradle and leaned against the pillows on the bed. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she'll be here, and she'll be here with a plan. And then all the arrangements I've made can be implemented. Look out, New York, a real woman is coming to town!

As though they were in sync, Della hung up the phone and looked across at the suitcases she had already packed, then leaned back on the bed with a book from the nightstand. She didn't bother to open it; her thoughts were thousands of miles away. Won't he be surprised when he sees me lying across the bed when he comes back from one of the sessions! He'll never expect me to be in New York. After all, he knows I hate flying! She shook her head. The things I do for that man sometimes . . .

The alarm at her bedside went off at five a.m. She awoke with a start, sleep slowly fading as she remembered everything she needed to do. Then she was in and out of the shower and dressed in record time. A taxi was waiting for her thirty minutes later, and then she was on her way to the airport. Although she had the usual travel butterflies she always did, her adrenaline more than made up for the nerves.

To her great surprise, the entire experience was smooth. She managed to board the plane without trouble and endured the takeoff by gripping the armrests on either side of her with only a modicum of panic. Once the flight leveled off, her thoughts turned to Mae's advice.

She's right. Seven proposals are six too many. Still, if he proposes again, this time the answer will be 'yes.' After all, like Aunt Mae pointed out, we've been together longer than . . . Well, for a long time. He's a legal eagle; while I'm content to carry on as we have been, I recognize now his need for the legality. It's something I can do for him.

After a while her thoughts trailed off and she managed to talk herself into a nap. So it was that the rest of the flight was little more than a blink of an eye. She drowsed awake just as the stewardess was about to touch her shoulder. Adjusting her seat back to the upright position, she steeled herself for the landing—her second-least favorite part. As though Fate were winking at her, that too went off without a hitch.

Twenty-five harried minutes later she had her luggage and a yellow cab and was on her way to the hotel. As the vehicle pulled in, she looked through the window, awestruck by the magnificence of the edifice. Law conferences were certainly spending big that year. She took her courage in both hands and, after taking care of the driver, walked into the lobby.

The concierge spotted her immediately. Waiting until she stepped up to the desk, he swept her in an appreciative look, then offered her a warm smile. Explaining that she was planning a special surprise for one of the guests, he went through the routine of checking with his manager before producing the room key. A young man dressed in the traditional uniform of a bellhop came up behind her, gathered her bags, and led the way to the bank of elevators. A moment later, they were in Perry's suite. Just as she suspected, he wasn't there.

Time to slip off my clothes and into something comfortable, she advised herself. With a gracious smile and a handsome tip, she dispatched the boy and took a small tour of the suite. It was luxury itself. With a satisfied gleam in her eyes, she perched on the edge of the bed and picked up the phone. Room service first, then the call to Aunt Mae.

A little while later she emerged from the deluxe bathroom dressed in a silk robe. While she was still deciding on the perfect way to position herself for Perry's arrival, a knock at the door derailed her. With a small sigh, she opened it and stood aside as a porter wheeled in the cart from room service. Behind him came two delivery boys, each with vases of deep red roses in their arms.

"Just a moment," she said in surprise, "I ordered room service, but I didn't say a thing about flowers."

One of the two delivery boys cleared his throat. "You are Miss Street, aren't you?"

"I am," she confirmed.

He smiled. "Then there hasn't been a mistake. Have a wonderful day!"

Her eyes dropped to the envelope in one of the bouquets. Sure enough, her name was written there. She was so taken aback that she didn't even notice the men leave the room. Taking the envelopes with her (there was one in the second arrangement as well) to the sofa, she settled against the cushions as she read the first one.

"'Welcome to New York, my love. I cannot begin to tell you how much you've been missed.'" It was signed simply, 'Perry.' As she had the first, she read the second message aloud. "'Della, I hope you enjoy everything I have planned for us. I will see you later tonight.'"

She clutched the cards close to her heart and willed herself not to cry. Then she straightened her posture and her eyes sparked. Aunt Mae. I'm going to kill her. Good thing I know an excellent defense attorney! That rat sold me out! All my plans to surprise him are gone. Now what? I suppose I could stew in my juices and be mad all afternoon, or I could . . . I could shake my head like I should have known better and surrender to Perry. Whatever plans he's made, I'm sure they'll far surpass mine. And really, what good is it to be prideful, when this is exactly what I've wanted all along?

Making a decision, she picked up the phone. Counting the rings, she rehearsed how she wanted the talk to go. And then someone picked up on the other end.

"Hello, this is Mae Kirby. May I ask who's calling?"

"I think you've been expecting this call," she said in lieu of a greeting. "How could you?"

"Oh, good!" her aunt crooned, "You've survived the flight to New York! How is it? Is it as grand as everyone says?"

"Don't change the subject," Della ordered. "I'm in Perry's suite, but he isn't here."

"Well, I'm sure whatever class he's in will be over soon enough."

"Aunt Mae . . . He might not be here, but two bouquets of roses certainly are. And with them were two envelopes with my name on them. I find it endlessly interesting that someone ordered roses to be delivered to this suite."

"Well," her aunt extended the word slowly, "don't look at me. I don't have the financial resources to order two vases of roses for myself, let alone you."

"Obviously they are from Perry," Della cut in. "He knew I was coming. And as he certainly doesn't have ESP, the only conclusion is that someone in the know tipped him off."

"Someone, meaning me? Sweetheart, it isn't healthy to dwell on the past. Just look forward to the future." Mae hesitated, then suggested, "Besides, think how romantic it would be if you left Los Angeles an old maid, and returned a blushing bride!"

Old maid! That's one cliché too far! "You're pushing. And from one old maid to another, she who lives in sandcastles should not throw seashells."

Mae laughed outright. "Alright, I deserved that dig. But do me a favor and don't take your irritation out on Perry. He's looking forward to spoiling you."

"Oh, I know."

"You just stretch out in your natural state and be waiting for him."

Della turned scarlet. "Aunt Mae! I do not need kibitzing from you!" She tried to collect herself but the red color stained every visible part of her body. "I happen to already know what makes Perry happy."

Her aunt snickered. "I love you, sweetheart. Just relax! It's a vacation. Be sure to do things I wouldn't do . . ."

"I love you, too, you old wench! Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Mason."

Della cradled the receiver instead of retorting. With a sigh, she willed herself to relax. The last thing she wanted was to look as though she was having some sort of allergic reaction just because she couldn't take a little good-natured ribbing. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she realized that the afternoon sessions could still take hours. With a mental shrug, settled against the pillows and closed her eyes.

Sometime later, while she was still in the arms of Morpheus, Perry slipped quietly into the suite. Spotting the vases of roses first, his eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Then as he stepped further into the room, he noticed Della's luggage.

She's here! His heart leapt with a joy he couldn't classify. Eagerness made him toss his suit jacket and briefcase into one of the plush armchairs in the living area as he toed off his shoes and padded into the bedroom. He eased open the door, saw Della fast asleep in her robe, and his grin nearly split his face. As much as I want to wake her up with a romantic kiss, I'll let her sleep. That will give me time to freshen up after all day. Hopefully my girl's appetite will be sated with room service, and we won't have to go out for dinner.

He took his time shaving, then relaxed under the steady pulsing spray of hot water in the shower. By the time he emerged, Della had rolled over but was obviously still dead to the world. His eyes roamed over her prone form, marveling at her beauty. Then he shed his robe and slipped into place, spooning her. Unconsciously she settled comfortably into his arms and sighed. He pressed his lips to her shoulder, then closed his eyes and let himself fade into peace.

Outside their window the streets of New York City were coming alive with evening traffic. Like a symphony, car horns, bus brakes, and lumbering trucks created a unique soundtrack to the fading daylight. The early evening light filtered through the gauzy window curtains and cast a slightly golden glow on the two. Slowly, as though she were coming back from a far country, Della opened her eyes.

The first thing she noticed was the steady even breathing of someone else in the bed with her. She looked down, saw the arms she knew as well as her own, and sighed. Darn! I didn't mean to fall asleep! Some welcome this turned out to be! Then, as another thought supplanted her disappointment, her hazel eyes brightened. Well, chivalry isn't dead; I'll simply have to awaken the sleeping prince with a kiss!

Carefully she left his embrace and rolled him onto his back. He didn't surface. She tilted her head, looked down at him in open and unguarded awe. Perry was every bit as handsome as always but seeing him in a state of complete contentment and relaxation was rare. His forehead was smooth. The two deep lines that cut across it when he was doing his deepest thinking were barely noticeable. His mouth, one of her favorite features, was closed, but the corners were curved up, as though whatever he was dreaming pleased him. She studied his eyes, closed behind eyelids with the most incredible, long dark lashes she had ever seen without the benefit of cosmetic help. Leaning forward slightly, she murmured low, "I love you, Mr. Mason."

Perry woke up to the sensation of someone peppering his face with soft, sweet kisses. He inhaled, taking in the unique scent of the woman he loved. His eyes opened, and there she was, hovering over him with the most angelic look on her face.

"Good evening, Counselor," she purred, "I thought you'd never wake up!"

He smiled, and his dimples formed on both cheeks. "Good evening, Miss Street." His arms stole around her, bringing her chest down on his as his mouth found hers. He kissed her again and again, then held her tight as she turned her head and rested it on his broad shoulder. "I had a dream, and you came true!"

"Oh, no you don't," she said, picking up her head again. "You don't get to start being sweet! You're in trouble."

"Am I?" he asked recklessly, deliberately rubbing his hands down her body. "Are you going to punish me, or can I beg for mercy?"

She swatted his chest. "I had all these grand plans for surprising you, and that stinker went and spoiled it!"

"I don't know that Mae would appreciate that moniker, darling."

"Fine. That beach bum is definitely getting coal in her stocking."

He laughed. "Welcome to New York. I have missed you." He kissed her lingeringly on the mouth. "I'm impressed you flew. That was pretty brave."

"It was," she agreed, smiling at him. "You know I'm not really upset, don't you? The roses are gorgeous, but the notes . . . even better!"

"That's just the tip of the iceberg," he informed her, then surprised her by rolling her onto her back and supporting himself on his arms. "We aren't leaving the Big Apple until you've had every bite you want."

She laughed at his silliness. "You do know that I have a large appetite, don't you?"

He looked away for a moment, then met her eyes again. "Yes, Miss Street, I am familiar with that particular quirk of yours. I've heard your stomach rumble in more places and circumstances than I can count."

"Speaking of hunger . . ." She let the sentence trail off suggestively.

"Please tell me you're hungry for me, and not some famous New York restaurant."

She laughed. "I think I could be persuaded to look over the room service menu again."

"Again? You already ordered something?"

She arched an eyebrow. "I do not believe in skipping meals when there is no case or client to distract me. I even made it a point to charge it to the room. I figured you would like that touch."

"Good girl," he praised, kissing her lightly on the mouth. "Why don't you get unpacked, and I'll order. Steaks okay with you?"

She frowned. "Pass on the steaks. We always do steaks. Let's have something different. Fish?"

He moved off her and opened the drawer of the nightstand. Pulling out the menu, he read it thoroughly, frowning in concentration. "They have a few options. Your lucky day."

She leaned over his shoulder. "That one sounds perfect," she said, indicating a stuffed grouper with a special sauce and steamed asparagus spears.

"Then I'll have the salmon, and you can sample both," he said generously.

"That seems fair, since we both know you'll be sampling me in an hour."

He turned his head to look at her. "You really believe I'm going to wait an hour?"

She kissed him longingly. "You'll have to. I don't want to start something and have it interrupted by a knock on the door. I get that at home, and I don't want that on my vacation."

"You make a maddening but fair point. In that case, Miss Street, get on your side of the room and stop tormenting me."

"Your willpower is astonishing, Counselor." She scooted to her side of the bed again, then swung her feet off the side and stood. Coming to the window, she parted the curtains and looked out across the way to one of the entrances to Central Park.

Traffic still flowed ceaselessly, but in the breaks between vehicles she saw horse-drawn carriages lined along the perimeter. The afternoon sun was giving way to a listless gray sky dotted with snow clouds. She sighed, half in contentment, half in wonder. There really was no place on earth quite like New York City.

"Order's placed," Perry said quietly as his arms stole around her waist. She leaned back against him and he rested his cheek against her soft hair. "The conference wrapped up today. I thought tomorrow we could spend our time playing tourist."

He pressed his lips to her temple then trailed kisses down to her ear. When he found the bend at the shoulder and neck, she turned in his arms, wrapping her own around his neck. He looked deeply into her eyes, lost for a moment in the hazel depths. Then they closed, and she was kissing him in earnest.

"Della," he breathed her name like a soft caress, "my Della."

His ardor was becoming uncomfortably apparent. She noticed, placing her hand on his chest and creating space between them. She had meant what she said. Food before Feasting. It wasn't just the interruption she feared. Knowing him as well as she did, Della was certain Perry had forgone lunch and would happily do the same with dinner if she didn't put her foot down.

"That was a wonderful appetizer, sweetheart," she told him. The lightness in her tone belied the effort she had in controlling herself.

His blue eyes darkened as he struggled to control his passion. After a strained moment of silence, he nodded. "Right. You don't want to be in the throes of passion when they arrive. Heaven forbid we give the staff something to talk about." A small, satisfied smirk developed on his face. "And you do tend to be, uh—"

"What?"

"Vocal," he supplied. "I have no modesty. I know how to please you."

She pushed him back a little further. "My, what a big ego you have, Mr. Mason!"

He shook his head, his eyes sparkling. "Protest all you want, but the 'Ohs, Right theres, and Yeses' tell a different story. Irrefutable evidence, darling."

She dropped her hands to her hips and tilted her head, looking at him in disbelief. "Is everything legal with you?"

To her surprise, he sighed and shook his head. "No, not everything."

She watched as he moved away from her, back in command of himself. He didn't come close to her again until room service brought their meal in on a rolling card. Even then, he politely seated her at the table before taking the chair across from her. Before them the attendant set the domed plates and glass flutes in place, then asked if Perry wanted him to open the champagne. When he indicated that he would handle it, the man bowed slightly and departed, a subtle tip tucked in his palm.

"Do you mind if I give a small toast?" he asked, searching her face to make sure it was alright. When she nodded her consent, he took the champagne and expertly aimed the cork away. A moment later the contents of the bottle were smoothly poured into the flutes. Picking his up carefully, he said, "To Della Street, the bravest lady I know, who dared to face her fears, take to the friendly skies, and come across the nation to be by my side."

She took a generous sip. Her eyes widened as a smile spread across her face. "This is the best champagne I've ever had!"

His eyes danced in delight. "I'm glad you like it! You deserve the best of everything, darling. You always have."

Ignoring that, she lifted the dome and was greeted by a rich, warm aroma. They both moaned and exclaimed in pleasure as they tasted their dishes. As they ate, they talked. Time passed in a blur as Perry related some of the details of the conference he thought she would enjoy. The boring bits he edited out. Della brought him up to date with the office gossip, including yet another disastrous first date for Paul. When their plates were clean Perry collected them and wheeled the cart to the hallway.

When he closed the door and turned back, she had disappeared. He craned his neck, then spotted her in the bedroom. For some unaccountable reason, he was suddenly nervous. Ridiculous, he told himself. You have no reason to be anxious. It isn't like you're going to propose to her on the spot! Now get in there and be present in the moment.

He walked slowly to the threshold of the bedroom and stood leaning against the doorframe. Della had pulled the sheets back from the bed, shed her robe, and was stretched out, waiting for him. His jaw opened and every bit of blood not required to move oxygen from here to there shot to his groin.

"You are so damned beautiful," he whispered, unaware he had spoken the thought aloud. He felt his pants tighten around his arousal before he moved toward the bed. She noticed the tent in his trousers before looking up at him with an open and rather wanton look.

"Come hither," she beckoned, wiggling her index finger at him. Somehow, she managed to make it sound seductive rather than corny.

As he approached the bed, she leaned forward and reached for his waistband. He moaned, clinching his jaw as she expertly undid his pants.

"Are you up for dessert, or did dinner fill you up?" she teased.

"That," he gritted out with some superhuman control, "is a rhetorical question. You know I'm up for anything."

Talking quickly became unnecessary. As he kicked off his pants and shed his own robe, Della pulled him down on the bed with her. He caught her chin and lifted her head, lowering his mouth over hers. Not understanding why, and caring even less, she thought that was the most erotic, masculine thing she had ever known. His kiss was explosive, full of hunger and longing, but tempered with control and tenderness. He was demanding as if they had always been lovers, yet giving, too, as his tongue teased the secrets of her mouth. His touch overwhelmed her senses, and she responded to him with trust and abandon. Each stroke of his tongue sent waves of pleasure throughout her body. Sweet spirals of sensation swirled through her limbs. He was warm and wonderful, and she savored the feel of his tongue in her mouth, the brush of his thumbs, the wonder of his arms. Then they both gasped, as if they both had suddenly come up from the depths and needed air.

"Perry," she managed, her voice hoarse with desire. His expression was open and unguarded in that moment, and she felt rather than saw just how vulnerable he really was. She reached for him again. Warm, willing and yielding lips met eager, thirsty ones. His hands found her breasts and she responded as though he had singed her. "Please," she whispered, then gave into the pleasure of his ministrations.

"I don't want to hurt you," he told her as he slid into her warmth.

"You won't," she assured, then gasped as he filled her.

Together they found their rhythm until she climaxed and he followed just after her. He rolled, positioning her on top of him, and gently reached for the sheet. As his arms held her tightly to him, he pressed his slightly swollen lips to her ear and confessed, "I love you, Della. More today than yesterday. And I'll love you more tomorrow than at this moment."

"Shh," she shushed him, "Some things go without saying."

Sometime later in the evening, the couple awoke. Della's fingers absently played with his chest hair as she snuggled deeper into his embrace. He stirred, a soft smile forming as his eyes opened. "Did you know that I missed you a little while I've been gone?"

"Only a little?"

He chuckled. "Well, no. But now that you're here, I have a small confession to make. I don't really have another week of sessions."

"I vaguely remember you mentioning that before dinner, but it didn't register." She sat up a little, thinking about it. "Does that mean that, if I hadn't come out here, you were planning to—to just stay here for another week?"

He flushed, then encouraged her settle back. "Don't be silly! I knew you'd come."

The nerve of this guy! He's trying to claim all the credit for my coming! She didn't know whether to hug him or kiss him. "I suppose that's why the roses came with messages addressed to me."

He looked at her. "Okay, I admit, I didn't know if you would come, but I hoped you would."

"You played me like a poker hand," she told him, but there was no animosity in the observation.

"Am I forgiven?"

She nodded. "But next time, at least play along for the first night! I really was looking forward to surprising you."

"Noted," he agreed, kissing her lightly to seal the promise. "Are you ready to hear some of the plans I have for us?"

"Of course! But there had better be some wonderful restaurants in the mix. And a trip to Chinatown."

He laughed. "We might have to table that until next time. Tomorrow we're going to the Fashion District. I have tickets to a show for us later in the week, and I know what a museum hound you are. Then there are nightclubs and the Rainbow Room, and since we're right across the way, I'm going to work in a romantic stroll through Central Park with my best gal."

She sighed in contentment. "You've been busy."

"I had a lot of downtime without you here." He threaded his fingers together with hers. My priorities are spoiling you and enjoying ourselves. With the exception of the show—a musical, by the way—we can play most things by ear."

"I love you, Perry," she told him, her tone serious. "I love you when you are just being yourself, and I love you when you are giving your all to our clients. I love you when you're short-tempered and I love you when you're patient and sweet. Just don't ever think that I need to be swept off my feet. I felt that way the first time I saw you in the office. This is going to be a wonderful vacation, but more than things and experiences, I just want more time with you."

"I don't get to spoil you at home," he told her, his tone matching hers. "I want the entire world to know you're the most important person in my life. I want to honor you, and I want to treat you to the best experience New York has to offer."

She lifted a hand and traced his jawline. "You are still going to be the best part of this trip." She kissed him sweetly, then suddenly sat up. "I thought of something I know I want before we leave!"

He watched her in fascination as her excitement got the best of her. She wasn't even aware that the sheet had fallen away, exposing her chest. He tried not to stare. "And . . . what is that?"

"A hotdog! Right from one of the vendors on the street. I always see it in movies, and I've always wanted to try one."

"That's my girl," he said, then grabbed her and smothered her lips with a kiss. "Always hungry."

It didn't take any effort to stoke the embers of their passion back into a burning inferno. Within seconds she was running her hands through his hair and drawing him closer. "I'm ready for more dessert."

The next morning the couple exited the hotel arm in arm. A hired car was waiting for them at the curb, and the doorman had the door open as they approached. Directing the driver to the fashion house he wanted, Perry winked at Della. She arched an eyebrow, but wisely didn't ask how he had arranged everything. A little over fifteen minutes later they walked in and were immediately greeted by a member of the staff. After explaining who they were and that they were expected, the couple was shown to a comfortable settee situated to face what appeared to be a ballroom. There was a stage set up with lights, and just to the side of center was a podium.

After a few minutes a server came by with champagne and a tray of finger foods. Then, to Della's astonishment, the designer for whom the fashion house was named emerged from behind a set of curtains, bowed in acknowledgment to Perry, and stood behind the podium. The show was about to start.

"How did you manage all of this?" Della asked quietly.

"A magician never reveals his secrets," Perry informed her. "Anything you see that you want, tell me. This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer, so don't you dare hold back."

"What did you do, sell off your stock in TWA?"

"No," he said, taking her free hand in his, "I cashed my savings account earmarked for our wedding."

There was no more time for talking. Della, overwhelmed by what he had said as much as by the ensembles she was seeing, was more subdued than usual. Model after model came out, walking along the stage and pausing, turning, and posing as the designer described the fabric, purpose and accessories of each piece. Soon she was as enthralled by the show as she would have been in a movie.

This cannot be my life right now. I feel like if someone pinched me, I still wouldn't wake up! I don't know if Perry was serious about that savings account business, but . . . There is no way I'm going to let him spoil me and not give him the only thing he wants.

Perry, pleased with Della's reaction to the show, quietly made notes as to which ensembles she liked best. To those, he also added several pairs of shoes, handbags and three sets of lingerie. He unobtrusively passed the selection to one of the female managers, then rose to greet the designer when he came forward.

Della gushed about the fashions yet still found a way to draw the man into further conversation. The two talked at length about the trends coming out of Europe and about the new colors that were bound to be popular in the Spring. As their conference wound down, Perry thanked him. To Della's surprise, the man shook that off with a wave of his hand.

"If anything, Mr. Mason, it is I who owe you a debt of gratitude. That matter with immigration really meant a lot to me."

Perry grinned. "It was the least I could do, after your service to this country."

As they left the shoppe and their driver whisked them away to a furrier, Della leaned close to Perry and asked, "What little matter? And why didn't I know about it?"

He smiled enigmatically but didn't explain. Instead, he told her, "You're going to need an appropriate coat to go with your new wardrobe."

She shook her head. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Well, I can think of one or two things right off the top of my head . . ."

They returned to the hotel with her purchases. As the concierge took the packages, Della and Perry strolled through the lobby. Heads turned in their direction and then grouped together to ponder who the attractive couple could be. Women eyed Perry with knowing, lusty looks, while men drank in Della's slender frame with appreciation and desire. When the elevator doors closed them off from prying eyes, Della pulled his face down in a passionate kiss.

"You didn't play fair," She whispered huskily in his ear.

"You're my girl," he told her, smiling easily. "Thank you for letting me do this for you."

"I'm equipped with a gown for the play, but you're going to need a tuxedo, aren't you?"

He shook his head, but waited until they reached their floor and were at the door to the suite before he responded, "I wasn't sure if there would be a formal function tied in with the conference, so I erred on the side of caution and packed Old Faithful."

They entered the room. Behind them, the bellboy deposited their purchases and departed discretely. Perry drew Della into an embrace and held her there, content just to have her in his arms.

"Have I ever told you that this has been a fantasy of mine?"

She met his eyes, her own widening in surprise. "No, you've never mentioned it." Waiting a beat, she added, "Just which part? The fur coat, the hired car, or the private fashion show at a top designer's house?"

He shook his head. "None of the above. My fantasy was being able to go anywhere we wanted and have people know, without a shred of doubt, that you're mine."

She gave a low chuckle. "I thought you do that all the time in Los Angeles."

"No." He kissed her cheek. "In Los Angeles, you and I are both on our guard. People may suspect how we feel about each other. Some might even know about our shared apartment. But when we are out and about, people look at us as what we are: lawyer with the most intelligent, beautiful confidential secretary."

She blushed a little at his description of her, but didn't refute what he said.

"In my mind and heart, you're my wife. I'm committed to you in every way, and I love making you happy."

"You do," she said at last. "I have never been happier in all my life. Together we have built not only a thriving law practice, but a relationship that is as strong and firm as a California Redwood." She pressed herself tighter against him. "And for the record, I am proud to be at your side and on your arm."

He lowered his head until their foreheads were touching. "Della, there's something I want to ask you . . ."

She held her breath, nervous all of a sudden. This is it, this is the moment! Keep calm . . . Play it nice and easy.

He took a deep breath and plunged. "Would you be willing to model that lingerie? The black one?"

She blinked, lifted her head, surprise turning her hazel eyes a deep green. "You want me to model what we just bought?"

"Please?" He released her and stepped back. "It's been on my mind since you selected it." A sweet, flirty look crossed his face. "I'm only human. My imagination can get the best of me sometimes."

She reached for him and kissed him fully on the lips. "Very well, Mr. Mason. After all, you took time to feed me, and you spoiled me rotten. But a girl likes to add a little mystery to these things."

"Do you want me to go out and give you time?"

She shook her head. "That's not necessary. Just stay in here while I take the bedroom."

Together they went through the boxes with the various ensembles until she found the lingerie he had requested. Taking the box with her, she vanished into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Quickly undressing, she took her time rubbing her skin with the scented lotion she had packed, making sure it was tasteful and not overpowering. Only then did she lift the contents of the box and carefully place them on the bed.

Meanwhile, Perry paced. You chicken. That was the moment, and you let it slip away! She might have said "Yes!" He sighed. It's just that she's refused me every other time. I don't know if I can handle another rejection. His jaw rippled and he came to a standstill. Now she's going to think all I want from her is sex. If only I weren't such a coward. What I should do is march myself in there, stop her in her tracks, drop to one knee and . . .

"Perry?"

He turned his head toward the sound of her voice. She was standing silhouetted in the doorway, dressed in a black bustier, matching robe and black mules. He was thunderstruck. If it hadn't been a fantasy before, it was now. Only the reality of how she looked was seared in his memory and had no intention of leaving again.

"Aren't you going to say something?"

He nodded dumbly. "I— Uh, I think you have surpassed my expectations."

She smiled at that. "Come here, Counselor."

He obeyed. She held out a hand, and when he took it, she led him to the edge of the bed. Using only her index finger, she pushed his chest and he fell back on the mattress. In the next moment she straddled him, unbuttoning his shirt without breaking eye contact. Her hands rubbed his exposed chest and she leaned forward just enough for him to take a deep breath of the scented lotion.

Perry moaned under her touch while his hands removed her robe from her shoulders. "Dear Lord, you are so beautiful."

He kissed her neck, and she turned, capturing his mouth with a sizzling kiss that stole all thought from him. As he moved the strap of the bustier to reach her shoulder he felt her sigh from somewhere deep in her being. Then her hands were on him, removing the shirt entirely. She leaned back, frankly admiring how he looked in the moment.

"I love you, Perry Mason."

He kissed her shoulder, then worked her breasts free from the bustier. Taking one into his mouth, he teased the other with his hand and could swear he actually felt Della vibrate. She pulled him closer to her body and moaned into his hair. When he took the other breast, his hands moved to her behind. She made quick work of his belt and unbuttoned his pants. He was as ready as she was. Taking her around the waist, he maneuvered her onto the bed so he could stand. He stepped out of his pants, then took her face in both hands and kissed her as though for the very first time.

Thrills ran through her at his touch, and she drew him back to the bed, once again placing him on his back as she lowered herself onto him. Together they moaned, and then she started to move.

Later that evening the couple dressed for dinner at Delmonico's before taking in West Side Story.

"Happy?" he asked as they walked hand-in-hand through the lobby of the hotel. "Did you like the movie?"

She sighed happily. "I loved it. It was warm, the dancing was superb, and the score, second to none. But the story has always upset me."

He looked surprised. "I thought every woman loved a Romeo and Juliet story."

"No," she corrected, "not every woman. Why do people who come from other walks of life and fall in love have to be punished for it? Why does young love have to have a tragic ending?"

"That's a valid observation. I suppose the film covers more than just the issues of love, though. It brings to the forefront the idea that clashing cultures don't need to be at war with each other. Neither is better, and neither is deserving of blatant xenophobia. They are just different. And both make up America."

"One of the things I love the very best about you is how you see through prejudices and find the truth. Not just in plays or films or books, but with the everyday things our clients face."

He squeezed her hand. "Everyone is created equal, Della. Even if we don't like or agree with someone, that rule doesn't change. Some people are born to privilege, and others are born in poverty. But where we start should never determine how we finish."

By the time they reached their suite, they were both lost in thought about the circumstances of how they had come together. Had it been Fate, or had their own decisions and the consequences of them that conspired to unite them? As the two snuggled under the covers that night, the answers didn't seem as important as the questions about their future.

The following day was spent at two museums. Knowing how much Della loved art, Perry had suggested she take her time with the exhibitions. Together they enjoyed landscape, portrait and still life paintings, then moved on to sculptures and bronze castings. They were both relaxed and natural, holding hands, talking conversationally as though they took tours like that all the time. When they had exhausted all the displayed art, Perry suggested they look for food.

"Hot dogs!" Della reminded him with enthusiasm.

He had agreed, and the two had no trouble finding a vendor. Despite the distinct chill in the air, they were content to dine outside.

"I wish I could save some of this bun for the pigeons in the park," Della commented.

Perry smiled at her. "You do have a way with the wildlife. I remember when I had to step into the cabin to examine the crime scene and meet that hare-brained bird. The sheriff didn't think it appropriate for you to go in, and when I came back, there you were, hand feeding squirrels and chipmunks!"

"They were adorable," she protested, taking another bite of her meal. "And it turns out, useful. If I hadn't fed them, you never would have looked up and noticed that the phone wire had been tapped."

"I can't argue with that." He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then smiled at her. "But I don't think the Central Park pigeons are going to reveal a clue."

She was quiet for a moment, then reflected, "Did you know that the reason pigeons gather like they do is because man more or less domesticated them?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I did not."

"Back before the telegraph, if you wanted to send a message and you couldn't wait for a very irregular post, you used pigeons. People kept them on their property, nurtured and cared for them like they might any other working animal. But the telegraph eliminated that need, and the pigeons were cast off. So now, they are still dependent on man to feed them, and don't really know how to fend for themselves."

"Professor Street, I had no idea you were an ornithologist!"

She shot him a dirty look. "Be nice. I'm no twitterer, but I do like to see birds in nature. And I knew about pigeons because— Are you laughing at me?"

He shook his head. "No, not at all. I'm simply smiling aloud. Go on."

She wadded up her napkin and threw it at him. "Some other time. I'll preserve the mystery for now."

He took their trash, then took her elbow as they moved onward in search of a cab. "Still game for the other museum?"

She sighed. "Only if you are. There was a lot to digest in that one. Is tonight the night we go to the play?"

"Yes."

"In that case," she hedged, "it might be better if we table the museum and I take advantage of the spa package the hotel offers."

He kissed her. "You think of everything, Miss Street."

She shrugged with a laugh. "That's what I do!"

When they were once again back in the suite, the details arranged for Della's appointment, they went over their tentative plans for the night.

"So, while you're getting pampered, I think I'll get a fresh haircut. I sent my tuxedo out to be pressed." He grinned and dimples formed on his cheeks. "I'm very excited about the play. I know this may come as a surprise, but I haven't been to a play since that dreadful version of Romeo and Juliet ended in murder."

She winced. "That was a terrible version. Until you explained why we were suffering through it, I was planning to bail on the evening at the intermission." She laughed a little. "But it doesn't really surprise me you haven't gone back to the theatre. After all, I'm your plus-one to everything, and if I haven't gone, neither have you."

"Have you considered taking up debating, Della? You have a way of making your point that doesn't allow for rebuttal."

"Flattery will get you nowhere. Now then, come back handsome, and be ready to dazzle me in your penguin suit."

"I'd say the same thing, but you'd look funny in a man's tuxedo."

She lifted a hand to her hair. "I might do something different with my hair."

"My dear lady, everything you do is magic. If you want to try something new, the world is your oyster. Just promise me you won't color it. I love the color it is naturally."

He's so sweet. There's no way I'm telling him I've been touching up the gray for a few years now. "Deal. See you in a few hours!"

An hour later Perry emerged from the upscale boutique with a fresh cut and shave. He looked and felt like a million bucks. Hailing a taxi, he gave Tiffany's as his destination, then leaned back as the driver wove in and out of afternoon traffic.

I've always wanted to give her something from Tiffany's. Even before she saw that ridiculous movie, she knew about the company. I remember her telling me how they got their start in lamps of all things. Still, I think she would appreciate a nice set of jewelry. He wasn't about to tell her that he had previously stopped by to ask if they could polish and size the ring he'd brought from home. It was his mother's, and despite proposing to Della so many times, he had never presented the ring to her.

To his delight, the ring was ready. The diamond expert told him all about the cut and the diamond itself, then surprised him with a set of earrings, bracelet and a necklace that, while not matching exactly, certainly complemented the ring. He didn't hesitate. With his purchases secured in his coat pocket, he thanked the man and headed back to the hotel.

As the cab made the turn that would take him back to the front door, Perry saw something in a storefront window that caught his eye. Stunning in its simplicity, the gown was everything elegance demanded. A mental picture of Della in it was all it took to decide him. He paid off the driver, but waved off the doorman's attempt to hold the door open for him.

"I have one more errand," he explained quickly, heading back on foot to the shop with the gown.

Half an hour later he had the garment bag in hand as he walked down the corridor to the suite. He fished the key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, peering around to see if Della had beaten him back to the room. The coast was clear. Whistling as he laid the gown across the bed, he stifled a yawn.

"I'm going to need a nap before we go, or I'll nod off in the overture!"

Still, he unloaded his coat pocket and placed the jewelry in the drawer. After he was content with his arrangements, he changed into more comfortable clothes and stretched out, careful not to touch the gown.

A little while later Della returned to find Perry soundly asleep on his side of the bed. A smile lit her eyes as she watched his chest rise and fall. He looked so peaceful. Then she looked at what was carefully laid in her space, and gasped.

Perry's eyes flew open, focused on her, and widened. "Wow! Della, you're a knockout! I'm going to have to trade in my tuxedo for a new model to measure up to you!"

She was too stunned to pay attention to his compliment. "Wh-what is this?"

He sat up, looked at her more closely. She wasn't looking at him; her eyes were glued to the gown.

"As I was on my way back, this thing spoke to me, and I walked back to see it. Are you pleased?"

"Pleased?" she parroted, finally meeting his eyes, "I'm stunned!"

"Would you consider wearing it tonight?"

She carefully picked it up and held it to her body. He whistled and she blushed. "I don't know how you do it, but every time you select something for me, it is always perfect." She walked over to a mirror. "Oh, Perry, it is so gorgeous!"

"So that's a 'yes'?"

"Yes!"

He moved from the bed to stand behind her, slipping his hands around her waist. "You are my favorite person in the entire world, you know. And you hardly ever let me do anything special for you."

"I'm trying to be a good girl on this trip," she said lightly. "I was told to let you spoil me, and I'm doing my best. But Perry, this is the last extravagant thing. Understand? You don't have to woo me with things. You've already won my heart."

"Spoilsport," he teased, but didn't press the issue. "As much as I would love to make love to you this minute—"

"Don't you dare! I just had my hair done, and I do not want your wandering fingers through it."

"As I was about to say . . . . We need to get ready. Our reservation is for five-thirty, and the play starts at eight. I know how much you detest getting there right at curtain, so hustle!"

"You've got it, Chief!"

He kissed her lightly on the cheek then moved away from her. "You take the bedroom, and I'll take the bathroom."

After about ten minutes he exited the bathroom, resplendent in his eveningwear except for his untied tie. Seeing his girl in her gown, he was struck by the way the garment clung to her curves and molded to her frame. She looked like she had stepped off the fashion runway in Paris. Uncomfortably aware that he was aroused and powerless to do anything about it, he cleared his throat.

She looked over at him and swept him in a glance. From his near-black wavy hair and dark eyes to his broad shoulders, trim torso and fit legs, he looked like a matinee idol straight off the silver screen. She moistened her lips with her tongue, then gave a prolonged wolf whistle.

He actually flushed. "I'm going to need help with the tie," he managed, still not trusting himself to move.

She came to him. "Alright, but I'll need something from you, first." Turning so her back was to him, he saw that she needed assistance with the zipper.

In order to cope with the situation, he summoned a mental image of Paul Drake as he closed the dress. Nothing killed the mood faster than having Paul interrupt.

"Your turn," he said lightly.

Her fingers made quick work of the tie. Stepping back to admire him again, she tilted her head. "Yes, I'd say you'll do. You certainly look presentable enough to escort me to dinner."

He held up a finger. "You still lack something, though."

Her eyes widened. "Really? The gown and hair aren't enough? You want to guild the lily?"

Moving to the drawer, he pulled it open and pulled out the blue boxes. Pocketing the ring without her noticing, he handed her the other boxes and waited to see her expression. With trembling hands, she opened the first one and almost fainted.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she lifted out a four-strand exquisite pearl choker with a diamond in the middle. Then her fingers somehow managed to get the other boxes. Pearl and diamond earrings. A perfectly matched bracelet.

"Let me help you," he offered, taking her wrist. Once the clasp was in place, he pressed his lips to it. Then he took the necklace and draped it around her neck. Again he closed it, and again he kissed the clasp. She slid the earrings on, then stood and turned in a complete circle for him to see the finished product. "Perfect," he praised, meaning it.

The jewelry, combined with the black, sleeveless sheath gown with a round neckline, gave her an air of sophistication that was beyond his wildest expectation. She looked like an improvement on Audrey Hepburn's Holly Golightly. All she lacked was a tiara, a long cigarette holder, and a cat.

"You're the most stunning woman in New York," he informed her. "And I am the luckiest man in the world."

A lump of emotion lodged in her throat and tears threatened to ruin her makeup. "Don't say that, sweetheart. It's enough to be with you."

He shook his head as if he just couldn't believe she didn't realize her effect on him. But rather than add to her discomfort, he just took her hand. "Ready for dinner?"

"Always!"

He was still chuckling over her enthusiasm when they reached The Rainbow Room. Upon their arrival heads turned and the whispers began. Diners cast surreptitious glances their way, then huddled their heads together, trying to guess who the attractive couple might be. The maître d escorted them to a table that had been roped off and waiting, then presented them with menus before fading away.

Trusting Perry to order their drinks, Della reviewed the selection of appetizers. Two caught her eye. "Want to try the Oysters Rockefeller, or the Maine Driver Scallop?"

He read the description of each. "Why not both? This is a once in a lifetime experience. Let's make the most of it!"

With their first orders placed, Della turned her attention to the ambiance of the place. Everything was just as it appeared in the glamorous magazines she pretended she didn't read. From the tables to the walls, everything screamed excellence. For a moment she was lost in the overwhelming atmosphere, but when she heard Perry placing their dinner orders and saw that her drink had arrived, she recentered her attention on him.

Soft music played in the background, but never overpowered the intimate feel of the dining experience. The couple talked of various topics, from shared interests to things each remembered from their individual pasts. Eventually their meals arrived, and between the short rib pot roast and the Pennsylvania lamb, they cleaned their plates.

"Do you want dessert?" he asked as she folded her napkin. "We have time before we head to the theatre."

She shook her head. "No. I honestly couldn't consume another bite!"

"You say that now," he teased, "but I happen to know your stomach is going to rumble before we make it back to the hotel."

"Be that as it may, I'm going to pass on it for now."

Upon their arrival at the theater Perry checked in their coats and took Della's elbow as an usher showed them to their seats. They read the program, which included a short synopses of the play and a small biography of the principle cast. Then the lights dimmed and the curtain was drawn. The play had begun.

Perry intertwined his fingers with Della's. Laughs abounded, but he was constantly distracted by how beautiful she looked. More than once he found himself lost in the plot of the play because he had been daydreaming about his girl. By the last curtain call at the end of the play, people were on their feet, clapping wildly. Perry slipped his arm around her shoulder and she leaned her head on him.

"What did you think of your first Broadway experience, darling?" he asked as they settled into a taxi.

Her eyes were shining. "Oh, it was wonderful! I thought the play was so smart! I have a feeling this one is going to be made into a film in a year or two."

"That wouldn't surprise me at all," he agreed. "But I hope the movie keeps some of the original cast. I especially liked the young man in the last act. I foresee him having a nice, lengthy career."

"You know, I can't thank you enough for today. I really enjoyed the museum and the spa treatment, not to mention the shock of this snazzy number and the jewelry. But that meal tonight, followed by the play is something I don't think I'll ever forget." She kissed him on the cheek. "I felt like a queen all day."

"I wish I had the words to tell you how I feel," he confessed. "I don't know how to express it, other than to say I feel happy. Woefully inadequate, but . . . Happy."

That evening they took their time undressing, careful to take care of their clothes and her jewelry. But before long, the passion Perry had managed to control earlier returned in full force, and the two clung to each other through the night. Afterwards they slept in each other's arms until the morning light filtered through the curtains.

Perry awoke first. Raising sleepy lids, he squinted, then opened his eyes fully and drank in the vision in his arms. Della was smiling in her sleep, a picture of female perfection and radiance and contentment. More than anything he longed to keep that look for her. Although he loved how well his plans had unfolded, there was still one cloud that hung over him. He longed to be married to her.

Why he couldn't be content with how things were, he couldn't say. But there was something deep inside his soul that longed to be joined fully with hers. It wasn't the legality that bothered him; as she had pointed out so many times, the marriage contract was primarily established for the procreation of children. As neither of them desired them, that seemed like a moot point. But what he hadn't been able to tell her was that he carried a fear inside of him that ate away at his heart.

What if, one day, this isn't what she wants? What if she decides she's better off with someone else, or in some other place? What if the worst happens, and I'm unable to help her because the authorities will only allow family members to be with her? He had no answers to those scenarios. No answers, but he did have a solution.

If only she'll say yes, he told himself, determined not to touch her as she slept. If only I weren't such a coward! I love this woman, and I want to be hers for the rest of my life. So it is going to be tonight. I'm going to ask, and then I'll produce the ring.

With that decision made, he closed his eyes again, and slept.

He woke up when Della stirred in his arms.

"Good morning, sleepy. How did you sleep?" He kissed her when she looked up at him.

"Good morning, Chief. I feel sublimely happy and content. And I don't think I can move a muscle! I haven't had this kind of a workout in . . . ever."

"Want to stay in this morning?"

She nodded. "Can we get some breakfast?"

He laughed at that. "Your wish is my command, Cinderella. The usual?"

She nodded. "But tea instead of coffee."

"Okay, but be advised that I do have reservations for us for tonight."

The day worked out just as they had intended. Della even managed to make a few phone calls to the west coast. Perry, interested in the day's newspaper, shared it with her as they lounged around. Lunch came and went, and eventually the afternoon sun cut a glare through the window.

"Time to get ready," he informed her. "Let's get our shower. Tonight you need to wear your coat. One of the activities I have planned for you is in the elements."

She searched his face, but could read nothing to give away his plans. "If you insist."

"I do."

With a sigh, she tossed aside the sheet and headed to the bathroom. Pausing just outside the door, she looked over her shoulder. "You know, I feel like a bride on her honeymoon."

He didn't comment. Instead he grabbed his robe and followed her into the room.

Later, when they were back from New York s and had resumed their daily routine, Della still couldn't remember where they dined that night. It was blotted from her memory. All she could recall was what came after. Perry, true to his word, had arranged for something special outdoors. For the last few days Della had wistfully looked out at Central Park and noted the carriages, never once dreaming that she and Perry would be in one. And yet, that was exactly where she found herself.

He had settled her in the hansom cab, then arranged the blanket over them. She had snuggled in, leaning her head against his broad shoulder as though it had always belonged there. The entire trip was magical. She was alive, the air was cool and crisp, and Perry was larger than life. She had looked at him, meeting his eyes, and an electric spark crackled between them.

"Did you know," he had started, "this is one of the things I have always wanted to do. In the movies they make it seem like the most romantic thing in New York."

"Every girl dreams of owning a pony at some point. Maybe that has something to do with it."

"Maybe." He had fallen silent momentarily, then felt the blue box pressing in his pocket. The time had come. "Della, I know I've gone about this the long way, but . . . You have to know that all of this has been leading to tonight. More than anything in the world, I want to spend my lifetime making you happy. I know I can't always give you the fancy things, and I know that what I'm really offering you is more late nights, missed meals and grumpy clients, but . . ." He pulled the box out of his pocket. "I'd like you to accept one final gift. It may be in a Tiffany's box, but this ring came from my mother. She always told me to save it until I was positive I could give it to the one woman I want to marry."

He had opened the box and, even in the night illuminated only by streetlamps, she could see the diamond refracting. It was stunning.

"Della, marry me. Please."

Tears fell down her face as she smiled at him. "Yes, I will marry you, Perry." He had taken the diamond engagement ring and placed it on her finger before he pulled her to him for a passionate kiss. "You wore me down, you know."

He had kissed her again, this time with purpose. "Thank you."

The driver of the cab had discreetly looked away, urging his horse to take the longer, scenic route back to the starting point. Every man deserved a private moment with his girl on the night of a proposal.

Now, back in their suite, the couple celebrated with chocolate-covered strawberries and another bottle of champagne. Della's happiness couldn't be contained; she was ebullient, radiant, as her eyes sparkled and her mouth curved up at the corners. Perry couldn't keep his eyes off of her. As beautiful as she looked on the outside, it was the essence of her soul that he found even more attractive. She was alive and warm and he felt like he could conquer Everest so long as he could keep her that happy.

"You've truly made me the happiest man," he told her as he fed her the last of the strawberries. "To be honest, I never thought you'd say yes. I hoped, mind you, but I never expected it."

She studied him thoughtfully. "I don't want you to get the idea that this week has had anything to do with my answer, Perry. I made up my mind before I ever landed in New York to accept your proposal the next time you asked."

He smiled. "I believe you."

"Of course, the hot dog did sweeten the deal."

Laughing, he shook his head at her. "Do me a favor, and never change. I love you, Miss Street!"

"Miss Street," she said thoughtfully. "That's going to change, isn't it?"

"It doesn't have to," he commented. "I never suggested you had to change your name to mine. But as far as I'm concerned, it's yours for the taking. We have all the time in the world for you to think about that."

She stood and came around to stand in front of him. He put his hands on her waist as she encircled his neck with her arms. Then with a sigh, she bent and kissed him. Thrills shot up and down his spine, and he pressed her to him, deepening the kiss until it became necessary to breathe. Then he stood himself, caught her up in his arms, and carried her to the bed.

Later, after their breathing calmed, the two cuddled, each quietly thinking about the future together. It was Perry who broke the silence. "Well, Mrs. Mason-to-be, when do you want to get married?"

She laughed outright. "Not thirty minutes ago you said we had all the time in the world!"

He shrugged a little, shifting so she rested more comfortably on his shoulder. "I won't apologize for being eager."

"I think you're adorable. But I promise never to say that in the presence of others."

"Thank you," he grunted. "I have to have a little dignity left."

She drew quiet again, thinking of what Mae had suggested. There was so much to think about. If she waited to get married, it could be upwards to eight months before Perry realistically had another break in his schedule. Then there was all the hoopla that would ensue. She knew him; if she delayed too long, he would publish their engagement in the LA Times, and then every Tom, Dick and Harry would know. Which could put a kink in Perry's ability to call her as a witness, if a need arose.

She sighed, and he looked at her quickly. "Something on your mind?"

She nodded. "Thinking about logistics is all. If we set a date in the summer, we would potentially be able to throw a big wedding. It would very likely be the event of the season. I don't know if I like that idea."

"Because . . . ?"

"Because it takes a lot of planning to pull something like that off. You realize that in addition to working at the office, most of my time will be spent finding a venue, making sure it is available on our date, booking a reception hall, finding the perfect dress, enduring more than one bridal shower, and— The list goes on and on."

"You wouldn't be doing all of that alone, you know," he reminded her. He kissed her hair and breathed in her scent. "I am good for some things."

She shook her head. "No. I know you think that now, but you will be consumed with our clients. We decided years ago that their needs must come before ours. I still believe that."

"I have a feeling I might not deserve you, Della."

She turned slightly, looking at him. Her hand was splayed on his chest and she was looking deeply into his eyes. "Don't ever say that, sweetheart. Loving someone isn't dependent on merit. You either love them, or you don't."

"Yes, ma'am."

She swatted him. "None of that, either!"

"What if we pick a date in the Spring?"

For a moment she gave it some thought. Then she came to a firm decision. "No, that's too far away. Let's get married right here, right now, in New York. I know there is a few days' wait between applying for the license and actually having a ceremony, but luckily for us, we have another week off from the office."

His eyes were shining. "I like this idea. I like it very much. Is there anyone you would like to be your attendant? I'm going to have Paul fly in. Lord knows I would be up the creek without a paddle if he found out about a New York wedding and wasn't invited."

She smiled. "You're right. Besides, as I've observed before, he cleans up well in a tuxedo." Falling silent again, she went through her limited amount of female friends. While she loved Gertie, they weren't exactly close in their personal lives. There was Janet, but she loved Perry too much to have their big day spoiled but his dislike of the maid of honor. There was her mother, but she didn't want to choose her if her father wasn't also going to be part of the ceremony. That left Aunt Mae.

"You would love it," Perry was saying when she mentally rejoined the conversation, "a perfect place to honeymoon."

"I'm sorry, I missed that. Where's a perfect place?"

He gave her a quick glance, then shook his head as he tsk-tsked her. "Woolgathering already? Why Miss Street, I am shocked, shocked to find I can't hold your attention!"

She swatted him again. "I was thinking about my answer to your other question. And I was thinking—"

"Please, please don't be Janet Brent," he teased, only half serious.

"You hush! And no, I wasn't going to suggest her. I was going to say Aunt Mae."

"That's only fair, since she had a small part to play in this New York affair."

"Did I tell you that Mae told me not to come back to Los Angeles as an old maid?" Della sat up a little, smiling. "We can't disappoint her."

"Okay. Now all we need is a date."

"Three days from now—well, tomorrow."

He gazed at her, once again awed by her generosity of spirit. He had almost expected her to punish Mae. "I agree, we can't disappoint her. Tomorrow we'll go to the Hall of Records and apply for our marriage license. At some point within the next three days you'll need a bridal ensemble and I'll need a new suit. That will be better than a tux, even if Paul does wear one well."

"And just who will be looking at him?" she teased, then leaned forward and kissed him. "I only have eyes for you."

"I'm pretty sure that's my line," he grumbled, then stopped talking altogether as her kisses and hands became demanding.

When breakfast arrived the two were already dressed and brainstorming what they needed to do. The first order of business was to make out the list of people they needed to call. Some could wait until they were back in Los Angeles, while others needed to know much sooner, upon pain of ending a friendship.

"Is it a decent hour in Bolero Beach yet?" Della asked, setting her pin beside the small notepad where she had been making the list. "I'm sure Aunt Mae is going to be fit to be tied if she doesn't hear first."

"We can't have that." Perry consulted his watch. "A trifle early, but if I know Mae, she is already up and making coffee. I think it's safe."

It took several minutes for the call to go through. Then, as though she was in the room, they heard her voice clearly.

"Kirby residence. This is a fine time to be calling decent folks. Who is this?"

"Mae, it's Perry!"

"Please tell me you haven't gone and blown things."

He looked at Della and his mouth broke into a smile. "Well, not yet."

"Then . . . ?"

"I have some news for you, but my fiancée wants to speak to you first. "

"Any time is a good time to talk with Della! Put her— Did you say fiancée?"

Della took the phone from Perry. "Hi, Aunt Mae! It's Perry's fiancée here . . . Of course I said 'yes,' silly! I may be stubborn, and I may be slow, but I'm not stupid!"

"Do your parents know yet?"

"Of course not. Do you really believe I would call them before I called you?"

Mae Kirby's smile could be felt right through the wire. "Care to give me the details?"

"Later," Perry said, reclaiming the receiver. "Right now, you have things to do! We are headed to get our license in about an hour, which means that in three days, I'll finally have my bride! Della wants you to be her attendant. And I would want you here as a witness at any rate."

"That's only fair," she sniffed. "After all, you might not have gotten your girl if I hadn't stuck my nose in this business."

"I don't deny it," he agreed graciously. "I'll be calling Paul in a moment, and as soon as he secures plane reservations, he'll contact you. You'll fly together, so don't go getting any bright ideas about matching him up."

She laughed at that. "I wouldn't dream about it!"

After saying their goodbyes, Perry handled the call to Paul. With everything in order for their two guests, the happy couple left the hotel. The process for securing the license went smoothly, and while they were at the Hall of Records Della spotted a brochure that featured wedding packages. With that information, they were able to order the flowers, including the bridal bouquet, the boutonnieres, and a special corsage for Mae. On the advice of one of the employees, they found a minister who happened to have an opening at his small chapel located in close proximity to their hotel.

Then came a return trip to Tiffany's. The proprietor, thrilled to see Perry again, noted that Della was wearing the ring. He offered his congratulations, then helped the two select wedding bands. When Perry tried to talk her into selecting additional jewelry, she refused, explaining that there was nothing more elegant than a band and diamond engagement ring. The man behind the counter had beamed.

Back at the hotel they made reservations for a special, private lunch on the wedding day in the hotel restaurant. By the time they checked in with Paul again that afternoon, everything was arranged. All that remained was to select the clothes.

When morning came, Della's euphoria seemed to have grown. She was up, showered and dressed, and ready to welcome her aunt and Paul to the Big Apple. Perry was still waking up when she announced that the breakfast cart was there.

"Get out of bed, you sleepyhead!" She grabbed the covers and pulled them away from him. He scowled at her, which produced a bubbly laugh. "Get a move on, buster! The sooner we eat, the sooner we can get to the airport!"

He swung his legs off the bed and stood. Grabbing his robe, he belted it closed and then followed Della into the sitting area. Sure enough, breakfast was waiting for him. While she poured the coffee, he tested the toast. Perfection.

"As much as I want to spend every waking and non-waking moment with you," she began, passing him the coffee and a saucer, "I think once Mae and Paul are here, we are better served to divide and conquer."

He frowned slightly. "You don't want to be with me?"

She shook her head. "It isn't that. I don't want you to see what I pick to wear for the wedding."

Understanding dawned. His eyes flamed a brilliant blue. "No sneak previews?"

"You already had one."

He chuckled. "I meant, a sneak preview of what you'll be wearing."

She hit him with a delightful smile. "But that's what I meant, too. You've already seen the wedding bands. That's the only teaser you'll get."

"Spoilsport."

And thus it was arranged. Once Paul and Mae had landed and were settled in their respective rooms, Perry made arrangements with the car service to take the ladies wherever they needed to go. He and Paul opted to test their luck with a taxi.

At Mae's urging, Della not only selected a beautiful suit for the ceremony, but a few pieces of lingerie and two ensembles appropriate for the honeymoon. Mae selected an outfit for herself after Della pointed out Perry would call off the nuptials if she didn't. They dined together at a deli near the dress shoppe, then returned to the hotel.

"I insist everything goes to my room," her aunt informed her as they had the bellboy follow them with their packages. "I don't want that man of yours to get a look at your dress!"

"No arguments from me," her niece laughed. "Just don't get suckered into letting him come in your room! You know how he is. Perry will try to play it off like he's walking you to your door as a proper gentleman, and the next thing you know, you'll be having nightcaps together."

Mae grinned. "I'm not touching a drop of alcohol until the reception!"

"Well," Della started, then waited until after she pressed the elevator call button, "Don't fall for Paul's charms, either. He has investigative skills you haven't even heard of. And what he knows, Perry will know."

"There is one thing we need to discuss."

The elevator doors closed behind them as the carriage rose. "And that is?"

"Your sleeping arrangements before the wedding." Mae looked at her beloved niece. Della was still glowing, and she didn't want to dim her happiness. Yet some traditions needed to be kept. "I think you should spend the night with me tomorrow."

Della took that in her stride. "I happen to think that's a marvelous idea. That way, Paul has a chance to throw Perry some sort of bachelor's party. I hope they have a great time. Perry needs a little male bonding after this last week. There's only so much shopping a man can handle."

Meanwhile, Perry and Paul were just as content with their suits. Although not outwardly nervous, Paul could tell his buddy was anxious for his big day. It was uncharacteristic for him to constantly check his watch, and his brow had been furrowed the entire time they were separated from the women. Still, Paul knew better than to point that out. As much as he loved his best friend, he didn't especially enjoy having him snap his head off.

"What else is on your list of things to do?" he asked. "I'm here to help in any way I can."

"I want to find a wedding gift for Della. And I don't want it to be more jewelry, or another shopping spree, or anything like that. I need some ideas."

Paul considered it for a few minutes, then suggested, "Since your apartment is already fully furnished, and since you have everything you need back in Los Angeles, why not give her something that you don't have?"

"And that is?" Perry asked. His eyes held his friend's for a long beat.

"Time. That's what Della will want, more than anything. Your time. So, to make that into a tangible thing, why not place a call to that real estate agent who booked you into the cabin up at Big Bear? You could put in an offer on a place."

As Paul continued to talk, Perry's mind took flight. That might not be a bad idea after all! He's right about time being the perfect gift. For far too long I have neglected carving out alone time with her. A place that can be a sanctuary for us, away from the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles would be ideal. And that will give her an opportunity to put her signature stamp on it.

"Paul, you're brilliant! That is exactly what I'll do," he announced, grinning from ear to ear.

"Great! Uh, Perry? Now that we've settled on that, don't you think I would be the perfect person to handle cake samples?"

"Forget it, Pal. I have that covered. Or rather, the hotel restaurant does. You, my friend, have your hands full planning my bachelor party. No strippers."

"I've met your bride," he teased. "I wouldn't dare!"

By the time the men rejoined the ladies at the hotel, it was late afternoon. Both Paul and Mae chose to take a nap, but neither Perry nor Della were feeling sleepy. At her suggestion, they left the hotel on foot, crossed the street, and entered Central Park. Walking hand in hand, they were happy just to be in each other's company. Although some of the trees had long since lost their leaves, there were still some with foliage. The scent of snow was in the air, and the wind cut into their clothes as they strolled. At one point they paused to watch a family with small children, then witnessed a pair of chipmunks play a competitive game of tag around a large oak.

"I love this," Della confessed in a quiet voice. "A little patch of heaven in the midst of the busy city. A reminder to stop and breathe and enjoy life."

"You're quite the philosopher this afternoon," he murmured. "But I know what you mean. When we were watching the kids, I couldn't help but feel a little wistful. I used to get that kind of joy out of playing with my neighbors."

"That's something we've never directly discussed."

He looked at her sharply. "My childhood? I've told you all about it."

"No, silly! Children. We probably should."

"Discuss them, or have them?"

"Let's start with the discussion." She waited a moment, then dove straight in. "I love children. I always have. But I don't feel the need to have children. Does that . . . Does that disappoint you?"

He shook his head. "I used to want them very much. I used to believe I would be letting my parents down if I didn't have an heir. But that's nonsense." He squeezed her hand. "I love children, too. But there are so many in Los Angeles that don't have homes. Don't have people who carve out time to spend with them. And that is very important. I don't want to be an absentee father who only sees his offspring at meals or special occasions."

"Agreed."

"Instead," he continued, "I'd love to make a commitment to spending time with some of the children in our city's orphanages. They're the ones who need our attention the most."

"I love you," she said simply.

He smiled at her. "That's a very good thing, since you agreed to marry me."

She nudged him with her shoulder. "In a lot of ways, it's your character that knocks me off my feet, Chief."

After a while, they turned back. The foursome headed out to one of the restaurants highlighted in the Times. Over superb cuisine and a great floor show, they talked about the next day's plans. Della reminded her groom she wouldn't be spending the night in their room, stressing the importance of letting Paul treat him to a party for the ages. Having expressed that she was feeling "stove" after all the traveling and shopping, Mae liked the suggestion of booking a massage for herself and the bride the following morning. Only then did Paul broach the subject of announcing the marriage.

"Are you going to put it in the paper?"

Perry looked over at Della, then shook his head. "No. While I'm not saying that this is a secret marriage, I do think it advisable to keep the good news to ourselves until we're ready for Los Angeles to know."

Paul nodded. "So you're not going to want to tell Gertie. What she knows, the Brent building knows. And once George down in the garage hears about it, Clay will know. And you know what a bullhorn that guy is!"

Della winced. "It's just that we're not sure about a few things yet. Like the legality of me being able to testify when Perry needs me. If the marriage is common knowledge, there might be prejudice or bias involved. He wants a chance to look into it."

"I just don't want that nice Lieutenant Tragg to make trouble for my Perry if he is the last to know," Mae mused. "He is a sweetheart of a man, but he's a wee bit protective of you, my dear. And he's said before that he longs for the day when he can get Perry in a pair of handcuffs."

Perry laughed. "Believe me, when the time comes for everyone else to know the truth, Tragg will be one of my first calls."

On the morning of the wedding Mae helped her niece into the wedding ensemble. Standing before the mirror in the bathroom, the older woman drew in her breath. "You are the most beautiful bride that ever was. No doubt about it, Della. No one will ever be able to describe you as an old maid."

"I still can't believe you said that," Della said as she put the finishing touches on her makeup.

"I had to think of something to get you to the altar."

Their conversation was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Mae answered it, surprised to see someone from the concierge desk standing in the hall with a package and an envelope which obviously contained a note. She accepted them, looking around for her purse to get a tip for the young man, when he simply smiled, tipped his head and backed out.

"Well, love, it looks like your fella has sent you another gift. It better not be lingerie. I don't want to blush!"

"Oh, Aunt Mae! You are so ridiculous! I'm coming." Della came to where her aunt stood and eyed the package with an equal amount of suspicion. "I told him I didn't need anything else."

"Read the note first."

Della carefully slid the note out of the envelope and read it silently to herself. There was a special light in her hazel eyes that seemed to come from her soul. "That man. What am I going to do with him?"

She set the note aside and opened the package. Both women drew in their breath together. Inside was a jewelry case, and inside that was a stunning strand of blushing pearls. Memories of the case that had brought them to her attention flooded Della's mind. She had no doubt that these, unlike the set of pearls she had worn with her black evening gown, had come from California. How Perry had managed to get them here without her knowing it, she couldn't guess. Until a picture of Paul flashed.

"What did the note say? Or was it personal?" Mae asked, recovered from the shock of seeing the gift.

"He expressed how excited he was for the wedding, and how much he was looking forward to my being Mrs. Mason."

"Nothing about the pearls?" The older woman couldn't hide her surprise. "But these things aren't very common!"

"I know," Della replied, falling silent.

"Do you want to wear them?"

She nodded, sitting as Mae fastened the necklace. "There. Now you're as pretty as a picture! Let's not keep Perry and Paul waiting. Do you know where we're going?"

"Of course!" Della stood, scooped up the new purse that coordinated with her ensemble, and followed her aunt out of the suite.

When they reached the venue the women were impressed with how elegant the chapel was decorated. Knowing that once the ceremony started she wouldn't get a chance to really look at the place, she took a few moments to soak it all in. Mae, to her profound surprise, pulled out a camera and started taking pictures. In a way, she was grateful. No one else thought to memorialize the event.

One of the staff approached, greeting the bride warmly. She ushered the ladies into a private room just off of the chapel and went through a brief explanation of what to expect with the ceremony. The groom and best man, it seemed, were expected at any minute.

Mae helped her attach the blusher veil. Then and only then did Della notice the gorgeous flowers waiting for her. The bridal bouquet consisted of exquisite red and white roses, baby's breath and some greenery. Mae's corsage was equally stunning. Two beautiful Talisman roses were resplendent in their arrangement. Della helped her aunt pin them in place, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"This is it," she said quietly. "From this moment forward, I'll never be the same woman again."

"All that remains is to tell you how beautiful you are, and how honored I am to be a part of this," her aunt told her. "No, don't cry. We don't have time to repair your makeup. And if you make me cry, I might not forgive you."

The familiar sound of the wedding march was coming from the chapel. Mae held the door open, then stepped in front of Della and preceded her down the aisle. At the altar Perry stood, tall and straight and as handsome as could be. Instead of a tuxedo, he was wearing a new dark blue suit with a red rose boutonniere. Beside him, Paul was flexing his hand, as though he didn't know what to do without a cigarette or ink pen to hold. He, like Perry, was dressed in a dark blue suit, but his boutonniere was white.

Della's eyes locked on Perry's. He was serious, but his eyes were smiling at her. Then the expression in them changed as he swept her in a glance. Although she couldn't find the right adjective to describe his reaction, the term "bowled over" came to mind.

Dear Lord, she's more beautiful than I've ever seen her! And she's wearing the pearls! The rest of his thoughts were incoherent as he watched her float rather than walk toward him. Later, after everything was said and done, Della had to tell him all the details of the ensemble. But in that moment, the white, off-the-shoulder, tea-length dress and blusher veil all seemed to blur together into an impression of an angel. Am I in heaven? I know Della was heaven-sent to me, but I had no idea . . . .

Finally, she was beside him. Looking up into his eyes, Della smiled radiantly. Everyone and everything else fell away as they took hands and faced each other. The minister began the ceremony, but it wasn't until he reached the portion of the service that called for the vows that the two were shaken from their trance.

Paul produced the wedding bands at the right moment, then retreated to his position. The cold metal slipped on her finger felt foreign to her, but when she looked at her hand, she knew it belonged there. She slid his band into place, then met his eyes. To her surprise, he was weeping.

In the next moment the minister pronounced them husband and wife. Perry gathered his wife in his arms and kissed her tenderly. Warm lovely color stained Della's cheeks, but she didn't notice.

"Say, doesn't the best man get to kiss the bride?" Paul asked.

Perry growled, but Della laughed. "Of course!" She gave him a sisterly kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Mae hugged them, not caring about the tears falling. "My two favorite people, united at last!"

A little while later the celebration continued at the hotel restaurant. With complementary champagne and a pre-ordered menu, there was nothing to do but bask in the moment. It was Mae who tapped her glass with a spoon to get things off and running.

"Everyone, please join me in raising a glass to my beautiful niece, Della, and her wonderful husband, Perry. May you both treasure the other all your lives, compromise when necessary, and support the other when it matters most. I love you both."

Applause around the dining room drowned out the clinking of the glasses. Paul was next, echoing the sentiment, but adding that he would kill Perry if he hurt the most Beautiful woman in the world. Perry and Della both sipped from their glasses, then shared a kiss. When they broke apart, a small commotion was happening a few feet away.

A group of musicians were setting up what looked like a jazz combo. A moment later a tall Black man dressed in evening clothes sat at the piano. He needed no introduction. Della stared, dumbfounded.

Nat "King" Cole leaned forward, nodded to Perry, and smiled. "Thank you all for coming. For the Mason wedding party, I want to say congratulations, and best wishes for a long, successful and happy union. This is a little song I thought would be perfect for you."

The opening bars of The More I See You filled the room. Perry stood, offering Della his hand. "May I have this dance, Mrs. Mason?"

She placed her hand in his and he led them to an open space of floor and took her in his arms. While they swayed, the lyrics hit home:

Each time I look at you it is like the first time

Each time you're near me, the thrill is new

And there is nothing that I wouldn't do for

The rare delight of the sight of you

For . . .

The more I see you, the more I want you

Somehow this feeling just grows and grows

With every sigh, I become more mad about you

More lost without you

And so it goes . . .

Can you imagine how much I love you?

The more I see you, as years go by

I know the only one for me can only be you

My arms won't free you, my heart won't try

I know the only one for me can only be you

My arms won't free you, my heart won't try.

As the last notes perfectly segued into the next song, Della lifted her head from Perry's shoulder. "How?"

He shook his head. "Totally by chance, darling. He happened to have a final fitting while Paul and I were selecting our suits."

"I'm impressed. So impressed. And honored."

"Would you like to meet him?"

She nodded, but said, "Later. Right now, I'd rather spend time in your arms."

When I Fall In Love followed the second song, and after two others, Cole closed with Unforgettable. He stepped over to their table and greeted the party, then took his leave.

By the time the meal was finished and the cake had been cut, Della was ready to go upstairs. Paul and Mae hugged her one last time, then waved the couple away. Perry waited until they were in the corridor and almost at the suite before he scooped her up and carried his bride over the threshold.

"Thank you," he whispered, then lowered her to her feet. "You've made me the happiest man in the world."

THE WAY THINGS ARE

The train's shrill whistle brought Della out of a nap. She felt the engine slowing. Perry bent over her, kissing her quickly after making sure she was awake.

"Ready to go beard the lions in their den?" he asked. "I only hope your father doesn't shoot me on sight."

She shook her head. "He's more likely to shoot me. Besides, they are going to be very pleased. But remember, not a word about Aunt Mae. It would kill my mother to know she was there."

He nodded. "I remember."

They needn't have worried. Her parents, thrilled with the rare visit, joined them for dinner at the hotel where the newlyweds were staying. Having decided to wait to spring the news of the wedding on them until after the meal, Perry and Della removed their bands. Her mother chided her for not staying at the house, but her father, observing Perry's reactions, said nothing at all.

Afterwards, they retreated to the Street residence to talk more privately. It was there that the news of the wedding came out. At first her parents were shocked, as she had known they would be. But within the course of a few minutes, both her mother and her father welcomed Perry into the family. If he had been expecting things to go so smoothly, he wasn't disappointed.

In a quiet moment, Della's father cornered Perry in the kitchen. He had questions, and while he was civil, the warmth was missing from his eyes. Perry did his best to explain the circumstances of the elopement, stressing that the time between the proposal and the ceremony had been a matter of days. It was at that point that her father explained his underlying hurt.

"One of the greatest joys of being a father to a little girl is the privilege of giving her away at her wedding. While I'm proud of Della, and very happy for you both, I'm saddened that I won't have that memory. Della always told us she had no intention of marrying, so in a way, it is a moot point."

Perry placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "I'm sorry to have deprived you, John. It's not something I can change, but I hope it won't affect us moving forward."

John Street searched his son-in-law's face. Seeing sincerity and honor there, he nodded. "I've expressed it to you. There's nothing more to say about it, and I certainly don't want Della to believe there is any reservation on my part about your union."

"Ready to rejoin the ladies?"

The older man sighed. "If we must, we must. But I will say that I look forward to having someone around during the holidays who can talk fishing and football instead of shopping and shoes!"

The holiday festivities were everything pleasant and sweet. Other family members, including Della's younger brother and his family, came. Everyone eagerly welcomed Perry, while the women of the house doted on Della. In the days following Christmas, Perry's bond with John Street strengthened. The men found that they had a lot of interests in common, and often were teased about holding up the party because they were always too busy talking to realize the others were ready to go.

When the time came to say goodbye, Perry and Della promised to prioritize visits with the Street family in the future.

"Happy?" Perry asked as he settled his wife in the compartment of the train for their trip back to Los Angeles.

"More than I deserve to be! I can't believe how well my parents responded to the news."

He smiled. "They love you, Della. Not as much as I do, but . . . They want you to be happy, and it is clear to them you are."

"I love you, Perry. I have from the beginning, and I will until the end. But next time you go on a conference, I'm keeping you to a budget."

He laughed. "Next time I won't be getting married."

"You'd better not," she breathed, then pulled him close and kissed him. "I might not ever let you up for air again."