Proposal in Room 309 (5 page)

‘Good. Nobody should do this alone.’

Mrs Davies lifted her head and her devastated, grief-stricken eyes pinned Joely to the floor. ‘What nobody seems to understand is that without him I am alone! He was my life!’

Joley touched her shoulder again. ‘Take as much time as you need. I wish you…strength.’

Because, dear God in Heaven, the poor girl was going to need it, Joely thought as she walked out of the room. Catching Ben’s eye, she watched as he stood up and walked towards her, his hair ruffled and his eyes tired.

‘You done?’ Ben asked, his clipped tone telling her that she was still firmly on the hook.

‘Yes. Sorry it took so long,’ Joely said. They walked to the automated doors and jumped as thunder rolled overhead. As they stepped out of the protection of the awning the sky spat rain bullets at them.

Ben swore. ‘Dammit, no taxis.’

‘Never are.’ Joely looked at the sky. ‘If we hurry, we might make it back to the hotel without getting soaked.’

‘And I just saw a pig with fairy wings fly past,’ Ben retorted, grabbing her hand. ‘With my luck tonight we’ll get hit by lightning and end up as a pile of ash on the pavement.’

Cheerful thought, Joely thought.

***

As he thought, they were dripping wet by the time they stumbled into the lobby of The Chatsfield, earning themselves quite a few disparaging looks as they squelched across the marble floor to the lifts.

Joely’s hair hung in rat tails down her face and she looked like a raccoon with her smeared mascara. Her wet dress now looked like it was painted on her and Ben quickly pulled his jacket off and placed it around her shoulders as he clocked the appreciative masculine gazes sent their way. Even wet and looking bedraggled, Joely turned male heads.

He ran his hands through his hair and wiped the moisture off his face as they stepped into the lift, pulling his wet shirt from his chest. They immediately headed to the back of the lift, away from a sharply dressed couple who looked older than God.

‘So much for not getting soaked,’ Ben said, sending Joely an ironic look.

‘Even my knickers are wet,’ Joely said, sotto voice.

The old lady turned around and raised two perfectly drawn black eyebrows. She lifted a manicured red fingernail. ‘Honey, they must be some kind of invisible because I ain’t seeing anything.’

The dapper old man dropped his head to blatantly stare at her butt. ‘Me neither. Are you wearing one of those thongs? Marge, is she wearing a thong?’

Joely’s mouth fell open in shock and Ben struggled to keep his laughter in check. He’d seen her in the bathroom earlier and he knew, for certain, that her thong was tiny and that a thin black satin cord was nestled between her butt cheeks. He didn’t think he’d share that information as he didn’t know if the old guy’s heart could take it. Ben looked at the couple, taking in the dapper suit and bowtie, the earring in his ear, his long grey hair pulled back by a leather tie. Marge was wearing a caftan and her perfectly dyed, black as night hair was pinned up into a messy bun on the top of her head. Gold and silver and beaded bracelets ran up her thin arm.

If these two didn’t attend Woodstock he’d eat his hat, Ben thought as the lift stopped on another floor to let in a couple not much older than them.

Marge nodded at them and raked her eyes over the woman who was dressed in a ball gown. ‘We’re talking about thongs and I’m thinking that I should try wearing a thong before I die…do they hurt?’

The blonde woman blinked once, then twice. ‘Uh…no, not really.’

Joely banged the back of her head on the lift panel and Ben snuck his hand behind her head so that she didn’t hurt herself. He bent down and placed his mouth at her ear. ‘I think it’s sexy too. Want to get naked?’

Joely’s mouth lifted in a smile and gestured to the puddle on the floor at their feet. ‘I don’t think we have much choice.’

Marge put her hand on her heart, her eyes fixed on them. ‘Ah, Bert…do you remember when we were young and sexy?’

Bert patted her bottom. ‘To me you’re still young and sexy. Did I take my blue pill, Marge?’

‘I made sure of it, Bert.’

Ben grinned before placing a kiss against Joely’s wet hair.

‘How long have you two been married?’ the blonde woman politely asked.

‘Geez, honey…let me think.’ Marge put her finger to her lips. ‘Nearly fifty years. We met in the bar downstairs and we ended up in a room upstairs that same night - scandalous for those times! But we just knew…so every year we come back to the same room and…well, relive our youth.’

‘Well, we try to,’ Bert corrected. ‘We’re not exactly as supple as we used to be.’

Oh, there was a mental picture he could have done without, Ben thought.

Bert placed his hand on Marge’s shoulder as the lift doors opened. ‘It’s been the best half century ever.’

Fifty years, hell, that was a long time. Joely didn’t say anything, she just stared at her feet and Ben’s heart sank. He wasn’t going to win this round he thought, he recognised the stubborn look on Joely’s face, the determination in her eyes. Maybe this disastrous evening was a big old slap around the head, telling him to leave things as they were, to appreciate what he had and to stop trying to…what did Joely say earlier? Don’t fix what wasn’t broken…

He had a gorgeous, smart, independent woman in his life; in his bed who said that she loved him…did he have a right to ask for more? Maybe she was right, maybe marriage wasn’t relevant in the world they lived in today…

The younger couple exited the lift and then the blonde woman stopped and turned around. ‘What’s the secret to staying married for fifty years?’

Ben felt Joely stiffen next to him.

‘Oh, honey, what a question! ‘ Marge sighed, tipping her head. ‘Mostly I think it’s because we’re two old lunatics who have far too much money and not enough sense.’

They probably were, Ben thought, because really, who discussed their sex lives with perfect strangers in the lift of an exclusive hotel? Crazy people, but entertaining all the same.

Bert took Marge’s hand and patted it. ‘I’m sure it helps, honey bee,’ he said.’ But we also raised six boys, educated and fed them and fostered two more. We bought and sold antiques before it was fashionable to do so and made a killing. And through it all we loved each other to distraction, even on those days when we didn’t particularly like each other. Because love is a choice, not a feeling. You love through it all, hard times, good times, crazy times. You’ve got to be each other’s soft place to fall.’

Blondie placed her hand on her heart and sighed. ‘That’s so lovely.’

‘But that’s not the secret.’ Marge’s head tipped further sideways and Ben thought she looked like a colourful budgie. He expected to hear the usual spiel; more about compromise and forgiveness, about picking your battles and not going to bed on a fight. Marge shocked the hell out of him with her take on the sacred union.

‘Blow jobs, honey. For apologising and for getting your own way. There ain’t nothing that can’t be fixed, or obtained, in a marriage by a good BJ.’

Good grief… Not that he necessarily disagreed.

Chapter Six

‘So if I give you a blow job, can we be done arguing?’ Joely said to him as he slid his wet key card through the lock. Naturally, because this was his life, the door refused to open.

Ben took a long time to answer, thinking that he wanted the fifty years with her, wanted what that old couple had; laughter, affection, love and a whole lot of damn good sex. Did it matter whether there was a licence attached to their relationship? Could he live without one? That had a simple answer…he’d rather have Joely than no Joely at all.

He shrugged and flicked her a look. ‘I think I’m done with arguing about this, Jo.’

Joely’s eyes widened as his jacket slipped off her shoulders and she caught it as it dropped. ‘You’re giving up?’

‘Yeah.’ Ben looked at the card and cursed a long streak of blue. ‘Can something just go right tonight?’

He pulled his shirt tail out from his trousers and found a patch that was less wet than the rest of his clothes and ran the magnetic strip between the folds of fabric.

‘Why are you giving up? Have you decided that you now don’t want to marry me?’

Ben felt his temper bubble. ‘God, you are the most infuriating woman alive! When I want to discuss the issue, you storm out of the restaurant; when I want to drop the issue, you want to keep talking?’ Ben tried the card again and sighed in relief when the door clicked open. ‘This night has been an utter disaster-‘

‘My fault,’ Joely muttered as she stepped into the darkened room.

Ben allowed the door to shut behind him and saw that Joely had dropped his jacket on the couch and was now struggling to reach for the zip on her dress. ‘Can you just stop being independent for one second and ask me for help?’

He yanked the zip down, pulled his tie over his head and went to work on his shirt buttons, ripping the bottom two in his frustration. Balling the shirt in his hand he stared at her in the half light coming from the bedroom. ‘When are you going to realise that I’m here and that I’m not going anywhere? Whether you marry me or not, I am here, standing in your corner wanting to be there for you! Wanting to be your soft place to fall.’

Joely frowned as her dress slipped down her body to end up in a puddle on the floor. ‘You’re now mad because I didn’t ask you to unzip me?’

Ben, goaded by the events of the evening into finally losing control, allowed her to see his roiling temper. ‘Yes! No! God! That was just a small example…you still pay me dammed rent, Jo! I own my flat outright but you pay me rent like we are sharing a commune. You insist on paying half of the utility bill…I earn ten times more than you ever will and every bill is an issue!’

Ben undid his belt buckle as he toed off his shoes. ‘I want to buy a house together but you are hesitating because you can’t pay me your share of the deposit…haven’t we moved on from all that crap yet?’

‘It’s important to me that I’m independent.’

‘It’s important to me that you relax with me! That you understand that I’m not just going to walk away when times get tough, that I’m going to be standing in your corner…even when you’re being crazy and insecure! Even if you don’t want to get married!’

Ben shoved his trousers over his hips, taking his boxers with him. He looked over at Joely who was unhooking her bra and couldn’t believe that they were naked and still arguing. He ran his hands through his hair. ‘God, Jo. Your lack of trust kills me.’

‘I trust you! I do!’ Joely cried, her body rigid with shock.

‘Yeah but you don’t trust me not to walk when times get tough.’ And that, he realised, scoured his soul because he wasn’t his father; he didn’t bounce, give up, give in. He stuck it out, worked it out and fought for what he wanted.

And she couldn’t see it. He had enough determination to make it work for the long haul, enough belief in them to fight for what they had. Why couldn’t she see that, trust that? Because her mother, father, step parents…everyone who ever professed to care for her walked - ran- when life got sticky. He was his own man, why couldn’t she accept that? Believe that?

Ben shook his head and was about to turn to walk to the bedroom when he heard the distinctive slide of a key card in the lock outside the room door and turned to see the door opening. He instinctively dashed across the room to put himself between the intruder and Joely.

‘Who the hell are you and what are you doing in our room?’ Ben asked his voice full of menace.

The tall guy muttered a curse and held up his master key. ‘I’m Jason, I was told that this room was empty…’

‘Not empty,’ Ben muttered, his lips thinning as he saw the appreciative look the intruder sent Joely. She responded by picking up his shirt and holding it against her, effectively covering up from collarbone to mid thigh.

‘Eyes front and centre…in fact, just keep them on me, mate.’

Jason had the balls to grin. ‘Sorry, but you’re not my type.’

Ben growled deep in his throat and the man lifted his hands in supplication. ‘Sorry…going now.’

Jason walked backwards to the door before looking down at his hand which he opened. ‘Oh, by the way, did you drop this? I found it on the floor outside your door.’

Ben looked at the velvet ring box in Jason’s hand and his heart nearly stopped. Inside was Joely’s ring, carefully designed and costing a bomb. It must have dropped out of his jacket when Joely took it off outside the door.

‘Yeah.’ Ben caught the box that sailed through the air.

‘It’s a hell of a ring. Congratulations.’

Ben, the box in his hand, watched the door shut again. He closed his eyes and hauled in a long breath, opening his eyes only when he felt Joely taking the box from his hand. She slowly opened it up and sat on the couch, staring at the deep blue, square cut sapphire embedded in a band of platinum.

When she didn’t say anything, Ben shrugged and walked to the bathroom, ignoring the petals on the bed and the profusion of flowers in the bedroom. Yeah, another wasted gesture as this evening had gone to hell in a hand basket.

He grabbed two thick robes from the hook behind the bathroom door, shrugged one on and quickly tied it closed. When he returned to the lounge, Joely was still looking at the ring. He draped a robe around her shoulders and she pulled it on, her gaze still on the open box.

‘You want something to drink?’ Ben asked, his voice low.

He waited for her response, saw the quick shake of her head, headed for the credenza and poured himself a healthy shot of whisky. After the evening he’d had, he was pretty sure he deserved it.

Flicking on a lamp, he sat next to Joely, lifted his feet onto the coffee table and tipped his head back to rest it against the couch. ‘So, on a scale of one to ten, how do you rate this evening?’

Joely traced the sapphire with one finger before lifting big eyes to meet his. The naked emotion in her eyes punched him in his heart. Then she looked around the room, taking in the profusion of tulips. Her eyes softened as they bounced from one bouquet to another and she sighed when she saw the expensive bottle of champagne in the silver ice bucket.