Her laugh was bright and reassuringly genuine in answer to his suspicious query, earning him another slow kiss as a reward for somehow managing to ease off her nervous tension just a little. "God, no," she promised him cheerfully. "One new baby in this family at a time is enough. 'Taya would never forgive me if I stole her thunder!" She drew her fingers against his lips tenderly. "Don't be so suspicious, it's a good surprise. I promise."

"Would a baby be a bad surprise?" he asked, not quite sure himself. They weren't getting any younger, but the timing wasn't right for a baby right now. He hadn't even been clean a year yet. It would be completely irresponsible to start a family when they were just learning how to take care of themselves. Maybe someday, but not now. "Do you..." He broke off with a shake of his head, unsure if he wanted an answer. "Never mind."

"Right now, I don't think a baby is a surprise we could handle," she told him honestly, stroking her fingers against his cheek as he broke himself off before finishing his sentence. Not entirely sure what it was he had been about to say, she didn't press him to know, nuzzling another kiss to his cheek. "Try and relax, baby. I promise, nothing that hasn't been in the works for months."

"I'd just prefer doing things in the right order. I'm sure your mother would agree," he told her, worrying her mother didn't like him much, though he wasn't too sure. He'd stood by Elena through the whole trial, never leaving her side, and even getting himself injured trying to protect her. All that was to his credit, but he knew he still had a long way to go to win Mama Rosita's trust and acceptance in the De Luca family. And that was just for starters. Her big brother Tony was another matter, and then there were her sisters.

He didn't need to worry so much about her family. Mataya already liked him, despite the uproar his appearance had caused in her house, and though she was wary of her youngest's intense connection with the author, Rosita was happy when her children were happy. Tony ....Well, Elena didn't know if Tony had come down from Cloud Anya recently, so she couldn't tell what his opinion on the matter was. "Well, Mama's a bit set in her ways," she smiled fondly. "She likes you, though."

"Has she forgotten I'm Irish?" he asked with a small teasing smirk as he started to relax. He had a dry sense of humor, and his moods were sometimes hard to read, but he was finally starting to relax after the tense weeks and months that had led up to the trial. "Think she'll mind having an Irishman for a son in law someday?" he asked, hinting at something that had been on his mind for a while, though he'd promised himself he'd wait until after the trial, and until he found his courage.

She giggled again. "You're Catholic, that puts you higher than Landon, Max, and Anya," she teased him sweetly, although a small part of her was aware that it wasn't exactly untrue. "Besides, the Irish are almost as prolific as Italians. You fit perfectly." It wasn't a precise answer to his question, but nonetheless she was very pleased that his mind was wandering in that direction. It made it easier for her to cope with what she had in mind for later on.

"I'm not so sure about that," he said, but didn't argue the point further. He'd fit in eventually, and even if he didn't, his love for Elena would win them over in the end. At least, he hoped so. "Prolific?" he echoed with a chuckle. "Are you talking about books or kids?" He had finished the book and the requested edits and had sent it off to his publisher. Now, he was just waiting to hear back on a final edit before it went to press. He'd already been given an advance and had made sure his contact included a general percentage of the royalties. If the book did even half as well as his first novel, he'd never have to work again.

"Both," she snickered softly, daring him to disagree with her. A gentle lurch of the car announced that they had arrived, and her smile deepened in anticipation. "Okay, dude, time to shut your eyes again," she warned him, reluctantly making an effort to disentangle herself from him. "And seriously, no peeking. This is the important bit that you don't get to see until we're there." There was a pause as she considered this for a moment. "You can probably open your eyes once the elevator's closed."

"I assume it's not McDonald's." He had to force himself not to take a peek out the window. Boston was his home town, and he knew it like the back of his hand. He assumed she was taking him to some fancy restaurant, but he wasn't sure what all the cloak and dagger was about. "We're not meeting anyone, are we?" he asked, looking a little worried. They'd been hounded by people ever since they'd arrived in New York. He was hoping for a little quiet for a change. He had somehow managed to arrive at the restaurant without getting too mussed, and that thought alone made him smile a little smugly. "Elevator?" he asked, curiously. Where the hell was she taking him"

"No, we're not meeting anyone," she promised him, gently stroking her fingers over his eyelids to draw them closed. "No press, no family, no random strangers demanding our attention. Just you and me, and dinner." She kissed him softly, adding with a low laugh, "Just keep your eyes closed until I say you can open them." Opening the door, she slid out, reaching back to take his hand and guide him onto the sidewalk with her.

"You're being awfully secretive, Elena," he remarked, stating the obvious as he awkwardly felt his way toward the door and onto the sidewalk with her guidance. She obviously had some kind of surprise for him planned, but he was at a complete loss as to what it was. "Just so you know, I was never very good at pinning the tail on the donkey." And that was mostly due to not being able to see. He didn't really like the sensation of stumbling blindly around without knowing where he was going, but for her sake, he was humoring her.

"You won't have to pin anything on anything," she giggled, drawing his arms around her waist until she was snug against him, back to chest. "Okay, right foot, left foot, and there aren't any stairs." It might not have been the best way to guide him into the restaurant, but it was the best way for her. After all, this way they got close contact and if he fell, she was going down with him.

"My woman," he corrected with a smile as as they waited for their table. He noticed a few curious glances their way, but they turned back away quickly enough. If anyone there recognized who they were, they either weren't impressed or didn't care.

Her cheek brushed against his shoulder as she smiled, breathing him in contentedly as the hostess returned to them, welcoming them through the tables to one that was set against the floor-length windows, reserved just for them. A bottle of chilled water already stood on the table for them, proving that the restaurant was already aware of one very important fact about them both. "I dunno, I think your girl sounds better," Elena chuckled impishly as she disengaged herself from under his arm, moving to take a seat. "I'm not well-behaved enough to be a woman yet."

He wondered what she might think of the word wife, but the thought remained unspoken, at least for now. "I don't know. I think you do a pretty good job of behaving yourself when you want to," he said as he they arrived at their table. He nodded his thanks to the hostess and pulled a chair out for Elena, waiting for her to be seated before claiming one for himself.

"Oooh, I've brought a gentleman out with me tonight," she teased him playfully as he saw her settled in place before sitting himself, reaching out to pour the water out into their respective glasses. "Okay, so I'll admit to behaving myself at times," she conceded cheerfully. "I'm just ....I feel free, for the first time in years. I know I should feel bad that a man's dead, but I don't have any sympathy for that family. He didn't think twice about threatening mine. And now he's gone, and the only way Sam's getting out is if he survives his hundredth birthday and his parole hearing. It's ....it's liberating. And you're here, which just makes it wonderful."

He frowned at the mention of Nicoletti and his son. He didn't want to talk about them, much less think about them ever again. It was all they'd done since he met her, and now that the trial was over and Elena was free, he never wanted to think about Sam Nicoletti again. "You're free, Elena. It's over. You never have to think about him again," he reminded her, putting voice to the thoughts in his head.

She knew that there was no need to have that family and their deeds hanging over her head any longer, but she also knew she had to acknowledge that if it weren't for them, she would not be where she was now. But that didn't mean she had to linger on the subject. "I have no intention of thinking about him," she promised Michael fondly, her secretive smile back as she recollected what her plan for the evening was. "I have you now, and that's all I need."

"Love doesn't pay the bills, Elena, but I don't think we have to worry about money too much," he teased as he reached for her hand. If the restaurant they were about to dine in was any indication of their financial situation, money most definitely wasn't a problem, and that wasn't even figuring in the money he was expected to earn from the sales of his second novel. "So, is this some kind of celebration?" he asked, still curious.

Her fingertips stroked over his palm as he took her hand, her smile somehow growing brighter and softer in the same moment as she held his gaze. "Yeah, it is," she nodded, confident despite her nerves. And those nerves weren't going to go away until the end of the meal, which was when her surprise was going to make itself known. "We don't have anything hanging over us anymore. Well, apart from my career, but that can handle itself a while longer."

"You mean your acting career or something else?" he asked, knowing she'd been toying with the idea of trying something else. There was a lot they needed to discuss now that the trial was over, a lot of decisions that needed to be made, but he wasn't sure if this was the time or the place. "You were amazing, you know. You're the bravest person I know," he told her, with a warm smile and a rub of his thumb against the back of her hand.

"It's done now," she nodded, glad to have come through the trial in one piece, though there was still lingering guilt over the fact that he had been hurt trying to keep her safe. "And I've done all I can to minimize my mistakes. I can't believe you got hurt, though. I-I'll never forgive myself for that." To be added to the long list of everything else she would never forgive herself for.

"El," he started in a soothing voice. "It wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault. We've been over this. No one blames you or holds it against you. You need to forgive yourself." Not even Mama Rosita seemed to blame her youngest anymore, and that was saying something. Thankfully, her mother had not heard the worst of the testimony - her children had had enough sense to keep her away.

"I won't do that," she told him softly, aware of her own need to feel that guilt. It had kept her from falling back into drink before she had met him, and even now, it was helping her to mature. "I spent so many years just moving on and leaving so much pain and distress behind me, without even a second thought for the people I'd hurt. I need to feel the guilt, Michael. I can't be the person I want to be if I just let it go."

"Okay, fine. Use it as a tool to become a better person. Learn from your mistakes, but don't let it eat you up inside. Your family has forgiven you, even if you haven't forgiven yourself. They love you. I love you. Unconditionally and completely." It was a lot of words all at once, even for a writer, but he was quite possibly one of the few people she knew who understood her so completely and her need not to forget what had happened and the mistakes she'd made.

She held his gaze as he spoke, feeling a gentle glow inside at how well he knew her, and how understanding he was of her conscious decision not to let that guilt get swept away. If it wasn't for Michael, that guilt would have destroyed her long before now, she was certain of it, but she didn't know quite how to tell him that. "Yes, master," she murmured, the smile on her lips an obvious tease as their waiter came by to lay their starters in front of them. No menus tonight - Elena had planned everything down to the last detail, hoping like hell he wouldn't mind. Duck confit & wild mushroom strudel made up that first course, and she could feel her mouth watering at the smell rising from the plates set before them.

"Does he have a cloak of invisibility?" Michael asked with an arched brow. He'd heard of the actor and had even been hoping to meet him and convince him to play a part in the film version of his sequel, for which the screenplay had yet to be written. Despite his girlfriend and her family being famous celebrities - and arguably, himself, as well - he always got a little star struck whenever Elena threw names around of famous people, like they were as ordinary as, well, him. "I hear he and your sister are filming Swan Song. That's going to get them both Oscars, you know."

She giggled softly. "I have no idea how he does it, but he manages it with a wife and kid," she pointed out through her smile, licking her lips clean as she set her cutlery down. His mention of her sister's activities brought her smile to something stellar once again. "She's having fun, that's all that matters," she shrugged merrily. "Jon deserves the Oscar, he's been working toward it for years. I think 'Taya would just be happy to see him nominated. She's right behind him, all the way."

The talk about acting brought him back to another subject that had not been fully discussed as yet. "What about you?" he asked curiously as he finished with his appetizers and pushed the plate aside. "Think you'll ever go back to acting?" He knew she'd shared the stage with the Granger in question a few months back, but she hadn't really seemed comfortable there anymore.

She shook her head - that decision was made the second she'd taken to the stage in The Canterville Ghost. "No, I won't," she told him firmly. "You saw me while I was working at the theater, I was a wreck. I just couldn't cope with being the center of all that attention, doing something that I don't have any confidence in anymore. I don't know what it is I've got that makes people want to watch me, but whatever it is, I don't enjoy it. I don't really know if I ever did."

He picked up his glass of water, strangely happy it was non-alcoholic. "What are you gonna do?" he prompted curiously, not that she had to do anything really. His advance on the publication of his book would keep them more than comfortable for a while yet, but it wouldn't last forever. "You don't really have to do anything, you know, El. Once the book is published and royalties start coming in, we'll be set for a while." Or longer, depending on how quickly they spent the money and how lavish or practical their lifestyle.

She paused as their waiter swept by to clear the empty plates from in front of them, smiling as she leaned forward again. "Anya's been making suggestions," she chuckled softly, a little embarrassed that her imminent sister-in-law knew more about what interested her than she did. "She, uh ....she thinks I should look at catering, maybe taking a course, getting a few qualifications and ....Well, she started talking about opening a restaurant, and then she had to shut up, because I was kinda close to having a panic attack at the thought of it."

Michael looked surprised, but not too surprised. He knew Elena's passion for cooking, and it was something she was really good at. Hell, she probably could have made some improvements to the ridiculously expensive dinner they were having. He couldn't help but smile at the suggestion. "She wants to open a restaurant or she thinks you should?" he asked, needing clarification.

"She thinks I should." Elena shrugged once again, lifting her glass to her lips once again to take a slow sip. It was a tempting thought, but at the same time, it was a huge commitment, and infinitely scarier than walking out on stage could ever be. "I really don't know. I enjoy cooking, I like playing with flavor and presentation, but I don't know if I could handle running a whole business. What if people didn't like what I was serving" I'd just crash and burn."

He listened quietly as she explained her worries, doubts, and misgivings about the idea. "Maybe you should just start small. Like Anya said, take a course or two. See what?s involved. Cater an event or two. Get your feet wet, see how you like it before you jump in head first. Didn't someone just tell me there's no rush?" he added with an affectionate and understanding smile.

"I hate it when you do that," she muttered, laughing at her own reaction, rolling her eyes even as she stuck her tongue out at him. "Get all sensible and supportive when I'm being neurotic. It's too sexy not to be distracting." Another pass of their waiter produced a pair of plates containing their main course, which turned out to be pan seared scallops.

His mouth watered as the plates were set before them. He was hungrier than he thought and not one to indulge in such delectable delicacies very often. He chuckled as he picked up another fork. "That's the first time anyone has ever called me sexy for being practical."

"You know me, I break the mold," she chuckled impishly, curling her toes around the back of his calf in a gentle caress as she lifted her own fork. "You wouldn't like me so much if I was just like every other girl out there, would you?"

"Like Billy Joel once said, I love you just the way you are," he said with a smile. It was no big surprise he was a Billy Joel fan. He played the guy's music until it was coming out of his ears, and he wasn't too shabby a piano man himself. "Don't make me embarrass the hell out of you by singing it."

She laughed at his threat, utterly unfazed. "Baby, you're talking to a woman who blew you in your hospital bed," she reminded him. "And, I might add, who offered to shout out her feelings for you from the roof of said hospital before you gave in and believed that I love you. Embarrassing me is practically an impossibility, you know that."

"Should I ask if they have a piano?" he teased. "Or maybe you'd like to stop at a karaoke bar later." He was smiling again, loving the sound of her laughter and the way her smile lit up her whole face. He wanted her to be happy, but more importantly, he wanted to be the man that made her happy. He reached across the table to give her hand a brief squeeze, not quite realizing the promise of embarrassment in her statement. "I love you back."

"I could be wrong, but I don't think it would be a good idea to play a strip version here, do you?" He took up another forkful of his dinner, thoroughly enjoying himself and in teasing her back. "First question..." he started, waggling the empty fork at her. "Is the surprise something you had to buy at a store?" He had to be careful in his formulation of the questions, as only Yes or No answers were allowed, and he was only allowed twenty of them before he was required to make a guess.

Her smile widened at his first question, impressed that he'd gone for the kill straightaway. But, sadly for him, it just wasn't the right question for her surprise. "No," she told him with a grin, dipping her thumb into what was left of the sauce on her plate to lick it clean with wickedly inviting eyes.

Distracted by the licking of her thumb, he paused a moment in his thought process. He frowned at her answer, blaming himself for the phrasing of the question. "Okay, let me rephrase that," he said, wanting to kick himself for wasting his first question. "Is it something you had to buy?" he asked, broadening the question so that it wasn't so specific.

She considered the answer to this for a moment, weighing each answer up to test it for truthfulness. "In a manner of speaking, yes," she nodded her answer cheerfully, knowing that it wasn't going to help him with his guesses much at all.

"Ah!" He waggled the fork at her again, as if he just caught her disobeying the rules. "You can only answer yes or no!" It would probably have been in his favor if she could give more detailed answers, but this didn't occur to him just yet.

"Okay, yes, I had to buy it!" she laughed back at him, rolling her eyes at his insistence on sticking to the rules as hard as he possibly could. "It's a hard question to answer with just a yes or a no!" Smirking, she dipped her finger into her sauce once again, taking her time on this one to lick it absolutely clean while holding his gaze impishly.

"A-ha!" he exclaimed, waggling that fork at her a little too excitedly, drawing the attention of a few other diners, at least momentarily. "Is it bigger than a breadbox?" he asked the oft-used and cliched question, which would help narrow it down further. He narrowed his eyes at her licking. "Stop that, it's cheating."

Giggling at how enthusiastic he was getting about the little game, Elena's grin widened as he accused her of cheating. "What?" she asked innocently, lowering her thumb from her lips. "I'm not cheating, I'm just enjoying my meal. And no, it isn't bigger than a breadbox."

"You're cheating and you know it!" he accused, but there was no anger in his voice, only amusement. He did, however, frown at her response to his question. "I guess the Mercedes is out then." Okay, so she hadn't bought him a car, unless it was a Matchbox car, and that was highly unlikely. "Smaller than a breadbox," he mused, trying to imagine what it might be now that his first deduction had been squashed. "Is it small enough to put in my pocket?" Question number four.

"Uh ....yeah, it is," she nodded, her grin getting even wider as she did so. He was narrowing things down, certainly, but she was pretty confident he wasn't going to guess what she had put in place with one detailed phone-call yesterday morning. She just considered herself very lucky that Michael enjoyed having the shower to himself so much, the rest of the building could collapse so long as the hot water kept coming.

"Um..." he mused, setting the fork down now that he'd finished with his dinner. While she might think he'd never guess her surprise this way, he was at least narrowing it down, and there were very few things he could think of that she could buy him that were small enough to fit in his pocket. Using his powers of deduction, he immediately ruled out several items off the top of his head. If it was a surprise, then it had to be something special, which meant it wasn't anything so mundane as a new wallet, watch, or cell phone. It could be car keys, but that implied that a car would go along with them, so he ruled that out, as well. The list was getting slowly smaller. "Gimme a clue."

"Ah!" She straightened, pointing both forefingers at him in triumph, completely heedless of the second round of curious glances that came toward their table as she cackled happily. "Now you're the one cheating, that wasn't a question!" Bright and smiling, she also completely missed the appreciative look their waiter gave her as he came by to take their empty plates once again, only having eyes for Michael. "It'll come with coffee," was the clue she gave up in the end - not exactly helpful, but not without merit.

There was that frown again, puzzled. "Well, it can't be dessert because I can't put that in my pocket!" he exclaimed back at her, his face flushing a little in exasperation. He drew a slow breath. "Okay, okay....Small enough to put in my pocket. I know! Is it..." He just caught himself before making a guess. He only had three guesses, after all, and sixteen more questions. He didn't want to waste them. "Is it made of paper?"

Snickering sweetly, Elena's eyes widened at that next question, astonished that he'd gone from one direction to suddenly swerve in the right direction without more than one clue. "You're too smart," she pouted playfully. "Yes."

"It is?" he asked, obviously surprised by her reply, which was actually going to end up misleading him, rather than directing him to the correct answer. "Can it be used to go somewhere?" Question number six.

"Sadly, no," she grinned over at him, glad he'd wandered off path again. The waiter came by yet again, this time laying warm chocolate cake with mango ice cream in front of them both. He offered what he obviously thought was an attractive smile to Elena, who dismissed him from her mind with barely a blink, all her attention focused on Michael and their game.

"Hmm..." he replied, tapping a finger against the note beneath his hand, trying hard to appear nonchalant, neutral even, at least momentarily, secretly amused not only by her nervousness, but her boldness. He paused without responding for a moment or two, letting her wonder what his response might be, before finally moving, not to his feet, but to one knee, right there in the middle of the restaurant, high above Boston, city lights twinkling all around them, while onlookers turned their way, some gaping, some smiling, some sighing, and some snickering. It wasn't every day you witnessed such an important event in someone's life. "Elena De Luca," he started as he reached for her hand. Soon couldn't have come as quicker than this. "Will you marry me?" he asked, a collective hush falling over the restaurant while they all awaited her reply.

Her eyes narrowed as he kept her waiting, amusement still sparkling in her gaze as she recognized him giving her just a little taste of her own medicine. After all, she'd kept him waiting all evening just for one little note, hadn't she" And then he moved, and she felt her breath leave her in one swift sigh, half-relieved and half-amazed. She hadn't done it to pressure him into asking now, just to reassure him that she really wasn't going anywhere. And yet there he was, down on one knee, her hand enclosed in his, asking her to marry him in front of the twenty or thirty other diners who all seemed to be on tenterhooks, waiting for her answer. Her fingers curled just a little tighter to his as her smile grew, lips parting to widen that sweet expression to a delighted grin as she found her voice. "Yes," she told Michael with loving tenderness, suppressing her impish side's desire to say "no" just for the hell of it. "Of course I'll marry you."

"I have no ring to offer as a symbol of my love, only my heart that beats only for you," he told her quietly as he brushed a kiss to the back of her hand, as cordially and romantically as any knight in shining armor wooing his lady love. He already knew her answer before it left her lips, and so, he wasn't worried about her reply. As impulsive as his proposal might be, he had been fantasizing about this very moment for years.

Her smile softened once again at his romantic side, at the chivalric gesture he made in kissing her hand. "That's ....that's really beautiful," she laughed softly, deeply touched by the words he gave to her. "If you're not careful, I might cry on you." And sure enough, there were tears sparkling in her green eyes, as much an outward sign of the sheer weight of happiness that had suddenly wrapped itself around her heart. It was official now. He wasn't getting away from her. "Now might be a good time to kiss me."

He smiled at last, in complete agreement with her own proposal. Though he'd been fantasizing about this moment for years, he hadn't yet decided how he was going to go about doing it. She had done him a favor, it seemed, in prompting him, or she might have had to wait another six months before he actually gathering up the courage to do it himself. "I know I'm screwed up, but I love you, Elena. I've always loved you. I'm always going to love you," he told her quietly, reaching to brush an errant tear from her cheek and leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips, sealing his promise. Soft, almost polite, applause sounded all around them as the onlookers shared their quiet approval before turning back to their own dinners and conversations.

Her hands cradled his face as he kissed her, her smile melding with his lovingly as their audience turned their eyes away from the impromptu floor show. Drawing back, her fingertips stroked against his cheek as she brushed the tip of her nose against his with a teasing glint in her eyes. "I'm just as screwed up as you are," she murmured back to him. "But you make me better. I love you, Michael, more than anything."

"Soon, Elena," he promised, with a brush of his nose against hers and another soft kiss. "Just say when and we'll make it official." At long last, after so many years of loneliness, his dreams were finally coming true. Elena De Luca - the girl of his dreams - was at last going to be his, and he wasn't going to ever let her go. As screwed up as they both were, they were better together than apart. He was her destiny, and she was his inspiration.

"When," was giggled against his lips, that irrepressible side of her making itself known as her arms curled around his neck to deepen the kiss, forgetting that they weren't in private. "So ....are you desperate for coffee?" she added as they drew apart once again. "Because I can think of a better way to spend the rest of the evening. Officially engaged sex should be the kind that blows your mind and knocks your socks off, right?"

He smirked with amusement at her reply, another thought coming to mind. "How do you feel about changing your name?" he asked just before she kissed him harder, setting his heart - and his body - on fire. His train of thought completely derailed by the kiss, he sighed as she drew away. Who wanted coffee at a time like this" "You blow my mind and knock my socks off every day," he replied, being a good boy and not completely guttering her question.

"I think dropping the L from my initials sounds pretty perfect," she assured him, nipping his lower lip gently. Leaning back, she teasingly patted his cheek. "Up you get, stud, I gotta put my shoe back on," she grinned affectionately. "And if you want to get out of the elevator without a limp, I suggest you pin my hands."

"Why the hell should I do that?" he asked with that smirk still in place on his face, reaching for her shoe to place it back on her foot, like the Prince in Cinderella. "Maybe I like walking with a limp," he teased. If she wanted to get her hands on him, who the hell was he to argue"

He'd made her laugh again, eliminating the threat of happy tears as she slid her foot back into her shoe with his help. The meal had already been paid for in advance, every detail set out up until this point in time, when Michael got to have more than a little input on what happened next. "You really want us to embarrass that cute little old lady who lives next door to you?" she snickered playfully. "You know, the one who thinks I'm a bad influence on you because I accidentally called her Miss, rather than Mistress?"

"I have a better idea," Michael said with a gleam in his eyes. He didn't really want to go back home to his crappy apartment now that they were out on the town, and in fact, he was preparing to sublet his apartment and get out of the lease. He was never there anymore and didn't really need it. He had no more ties to Boston and no reason to go there, except on occasional business. "This is cause for celebration."

The sudden lurch of the elevator as it abruptly came to a halt made her stumble, somehow pressing closer into him as her eyes snapped open in surprise. She hadn't actually thought he would do that, but ....Well, Elena wasn't a woman who said no to a given opportunity. Giggling softly, she nipped at his ear lobe, trailing fresh kisses down his throat as her hands retraced their steps to undo his fly. "I love my impulsive, neurotic, sexy author."

"There's nothing sexy about being neurotic, Elena," he reminded her, but he wasn't about to argue the fact now, not with her hands undoing his fly and his body offering no resistance. "We've got five, ten minutes tops before someone notices and calls the fire department," he warned her, his lips grazing her neck as his hands hiked up her dress.

"There is when it's you," she countered, twisting to set her back against the wall, pulling him with her. Her knee rose to hook snug against his hip, more than ready, and frankly, more than capable of making full use of the next five, ten minutes tops. "Better hurry, then, handsome."

"You think ten minutes is enough?" he asked, knowing it was enough for him, but he wasn't so sure about her. He wasted no more time, however, unceremoniously yanking her panties down off her legs and shoving them into a pocket of his jacket, before loosening his own pants further. Her knee hooked against his hip, offering herself to him and pressed himself against her, devouring her lips as he pinned her against the wall and showed her just what he was capable of.

"If it isn't, you can make it up to me later," she breathed through her grin, exhilarated by the risk they were taking just by giving into the teasing they both knew they would have been able to stand for at least another hour. Her moan as he went for the kill was lost in his kiss, hands gripping tightly as they moved together, racing the clock to satisfaction before the risk took them just that little bit too far. Evidently Elena's bolder side was rubbing off on Michael more than he'd admitted to.

It wasn't exactly "Wham, Bam, Thank you, Ma'am", not that Elena would have minded that. She had never complained even once about her sex life with Michael and somehow he knew she liked those rare occasions when his bolder side made itself known. The truth was she was more of an influence on him than even he cared to admit, and he was enjoying exploring the wild side of himself that he hadn't even known existed. His frustrated frenzy reached a fevered pitch and within minutes, he was gasping and groaning with delight against the sweetness of her lips.

Only a few minutes, and though she didn't quite get there, it was more than enough to keep her going until they had time and privacy to correct that oversight. Michael knew her inside and out, better than anyone, and she loved him as much for that as she did for everything else about him. She swallowed his groaning pleasure in kisses that gentled as the frenzied moment passed, the ache inside soothed just enough for now to save him from a repeat of this little encounter out in the open somewhere. Grinning, she nuzzled to him, breathless with the wild thrill of being so exposed with him. "Maybe we should find a balcony to christen sometime," she teased impishly as they eased apart, flushed with the friction that had just been smoothed down for the time being.

He was quick to adjust his pants, but her panties remained forgotten in his jacket pocket, unless she mentioned it. Just in time, too, as a slightly irritated or amused-sounding - it was hard to tell which - male voice came over the loudspeaker: "Are you two done in there" Other people would like to use the elevator."

Michael blanched as he fumbled with his pants, jerking his head toward the loudspeaker to look for a camera. "Um, yeah....Little emergency. We're all set now. Jesus Christ, you are gonna get me arrested!" he hissed to Elena, his neurotic side reasserting itself.

Embarrassment took people in different ways. Michael blanched, Elena burst out laughing, adjusting her dress so she was at the very least decent, if not fully clothed. Her fiance's hissed complaint as the elevator resumed course only made her laugh harder as she hugged an arm about his waist. "Oh, ease up, baby," she cajoled him affectionately. "I'll make it up to you in just a little bit." And rather tactfully, she didn't point out that he was the one who had taken things from a tease to a full-blown sexual encounter.

"I thought you already did," he remarked, embarrassed but not really upset. How could he be upset after everything that had happened that evening" She'd taken him to the swankiest and most expensive restaurant in town where she'd practically goaded him into proposing, only to be followed by sex in an elevator. He had to smile a little at that, despite his embarrassment. He tucked an arm around her waist and dropped a kiss against her nose. "You really are gonna be the death of me." There was no ire in his voice, only amusement mingled with adoration.

"Hold it off for the next forty years, at the very least," she told him firmly, offering up a wink as the elevator came to a halt. The doors opened, revealing an impatient group of people waiting to use this particular facility, and she snickered once again, brazen enough to offer up a blanket apology as she pulled him out through the foyer and onto the street beyond. "So ....did I hit classy tonight, or have I just clipped brassy instead?"

"Sorry!" he offered the small crowd of people waiting outside the elevator, his face flaming hot with embarrassment. He didn't have to offer up any excuses as to why the elevator had stopped - the look of guilt and embarrassment on his face said it all for him. He was just glad they hadn't gotten into any trouble with that stunt. "You were doing pretty well, until the elevator," he replied, as he drew her hastily away from the building and out into the relief of the cool evening air. He didn't bother to admit that it was actually him who'd hit the Stop button, since he believed it to be her fault for instigating it. "So, hotel or apartment?" he asked, though they'd already discussed it not ten minutes earlier.