Страница 19 из 37
The fragrance of roses emanated from the room as he opened the door and escorted Lane inside. They walked across the rose petals strewn on the floor, toward the table that was sitting in the middle of the room, shrouded in a gazebo like structure of wispy fabric. She looked up at him as they walked. She’d never seen anything like this in her life. There were bouquets of roses on pedestals every few feet, sitting on either side of the aisle formed by rose petals. She counted. Eight bouquets lined the aisle and inside the gazebo was another bouquet. She quickly did the math nine bouquets times 12 roses equaled 108 roses. She had a friend in Omaha whose husband was a florist. What was the significance of 108 roses? God where was Nancy when you needed her? Ben pulled out a chair and held it as she sat down. Then he genuflected in front of her.
“Lane Parker, I love you. I love you more than the air I breathe, more than life itself. I’ve wasted the last three years of my life, not realizing that everything I ever needed, everything I ever wanted stood right before me.” He opened the box and said, “Will you marry me?” Even before she answered, he took her hand and slipped the ring onto her finger.
She caressed his face in her hands and kissed him. “Yes. Oh God, Ben, I love you. Yes, yes, I’ll marry you.” She was so busy kissing him, saying she loved him that she hadn’t even looked at the ring he’d slipped on her finger. He stood and poured two glasses of champagne. “A toast, to the most beautiful woman in the world. To my lovely fiancée.”
There was a remote on the table. Ben picked it up and pressed a button, and the CD he had mixed of his favorite Frank Sinatra love songs began playing. “Dance with me,” he said, as he guided her to the dance floor.
“In Italy, the groom proposes by singing, in the hope of seducing his bride to be into accepting his proposal. I don’t sing. I’ll have to seduce you by dancing,” he whispered to her.
“I thought that was what the roses and the gazebo were supposed to do.”
“The roses.” He kissed her. “There are 108 of them. I looked it up, 108 roses mean ‘Will you marry me?’”
As they danced, he remembered that she hadn’t eaten since Sunday evening, and he’d given her a glass of champagne on an empty stomach. He’d better get some food into her.
The music had been the cue to the wait staff, and they had already come in and had bread on the table. He knew his brother Tony, who was the chef, was preparing something special for them. He kissed her. “Come on, let’s get some food into you. Besides, I have something for you.” He guided her back to the table where another bigger, blue Tiffany’s box sat. He held her chair while she sat, then he sat and held the box out to her. “It’s an engagement gift.”
She looked at him, realizing she hadn’t even looked at the ring he’d placed on her finger all of 30 minutes ago. She looked down at her left hand. My God, she thought, it’s a wonder I can walk without throwing out my back. She knew almost nothing about the four c’s (cut, clarity, color, and carat) of diamond buying, but it was clear the man sitting next to her either knew all about it or had gotten some very good advice. The stone was a square radiant cut and it was almost the size of a dime. It sat high and had baguettes on either side forming shoulders. There was a tiny tear drop shaped diamond on the front and on the back of the intricately scrolled seat below the center stone. The whole thing sparkled like nothing she’d ever seen in her life.
She looked at him. My God, this must have cost a fortune and now he was nudging another Tiffany’s box toward her. She opened it. Inside was a diamond filigree heart pendant with a key dangling from the bail. He took it from the box and put it around her neck. “To remind you that you hold the key to my heart,” he said, as he fastened the necklace and kissed the back of her neck.
“You’re going to spoil me,” she said, as she reached for his hand.
“Only for the rest of your life,” he said, as he picked up her hand and kissed her palm. “I imagine that my father is standing at the kitchen door, waiting to congratulate me and extend best wishes to my beautiful fiancée.”
He reached up and motioned his hand in a come-in signal. His father came into the room bringing salads. Dante Bellini took Lane in his arms and kissed both of her cheeks. “Bella, welcome to the family. Best wishes for your future happiness.” He turned to Ben and said, “Congratulazioni, figlio,” then kissed both of Ben’s cheeks.
Ben and Lane held hands as they ate. Feeding each other a bite of this, a nibble of that. Ben’s phone rang and he checked the caller id. It was Pauli. “I need to take this,” he said, standing and stepping away from the table. Instead of hello or even Pronto, which was the way a phone call was answered in Italy, he said “E' una buona notizia.”
“Sì; favorevole. Are you engaged yet?” Pauli responded
“Yes. Are you on your way back to St. Louis yet?”
“Are you trying to find out if it’s safe to bring your fiancée home to celebrate properly?” Pauli asked laughingly.
Even though that was exactly what he was trying to find out, Ben said “What kind of question is that?”
“Godere, I’m leaving now.”
Ben ended the call and stepped back to the table. It was one o’clock, they could do a lot of celebrating before the day was over. He pulled Lane to stand in his embrace and kissed her, coaxing her lips open with his tongue, knowing that she was going to moan, knowing the effect it always had on him. “Let’s leave. That was Pauli on the phone and I have a clean bill of health.” He kissed her again. “I thought we might leave and celebrate properly.”
In response she simply said, “I’d like that.”
He tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and they walked to the car. The drive to his house had never seemed so long.
He parked the Jag in the garage, opened her door and carried her to the bedroom, kissing her every step of the way. He gently lowered her to the bed and was soon lying with her. Still kissing, still murmuring I love you to each other. As always, each time their tongues touched, Lane moaned and each time she moaned, Ben was closer to the edge. He kissed her neck, behind her ear. She moaned and moved closer to him. She felt his erection pressing against her thigh. Oh God, she wanted him, and she whispered. “Ben, I love you and I want you, now.” He worked his lips from her neck to her shoulder. She was busily pulling at his polo shirt, exposing his washboard abs.
“Red, I’m the only one losing clothes here. That doesn’t seem right.” He unzipped her dress and pulled it off exposing the white lace bra and panties she had on underneath. He traced a finger along the lace cup barely covering her breast. Reaching behind her back, he expertly unhooked her bra and pushed the lace aside, bending down and taking one nipple in his mouth.
She grabbed his hair with both hands and pulled his face to hers. “You’ve done it now,” she said in a raspy whisper, as she pulled his lips to hers. “I’m all wet and I have to get these panties off.” She’d barely finished the sentence before he expertly removed them and tossed them away.
He moved his hand between her thighs. Dear Lord, she really was wet, and he could feel her throbbing as he first stroked her and then gently slipped a finger inside. She gasped even as she raised her hips to meet his probing finger. She reached down and felt his erection through his Khaki’s. She struggled with his belt and the zipper of his pants, until she wrapped her hand around him and gasped. He was huge, and she hadn’t had sex in 18 years. He was suckling her again and she was gasping for air. She tugged at his pants and he helped remove them. He was naked, he was gorgeous and he had the biggest erection she’d ever seen.