Page 66 of The Billionaire in Her Bed

“Yes,” Eli said, directing his answer at David and ignoring Brooke. “Thank you.”

With an exaggerated bow, David disappeared as silently as he’d come. Brooke shook her head. “Who else did you rope into this? Please tell me Mr. Feingold’s not going to show up when he’s done bowling and serenade us with his accordion.”

“Nope. Just you, me, and our hopefully unobtrusive waiter from here on in.”

Eli raised his glass in a toast. She lifted hers in response, and they clinked them together then sipped.

She tilted her head and gazed at him over the rim of her glass. “What’s the special occasion?”

He shrugged and took another sip of his chardonnay. “Who says we need one?

“We don’t. But knowing you, there’s something I’m forgetting.”

“All right, if you must know.” He traced the rim of his glass with his index finger. “It’s our one-year anniversary.”

She pursed her lips. “I may not be the world’s best girlfriend, but I know we didn’t start officially dating until after the Geek Girls benefit. And that was in April, not January.”

“Not that anniversary.” He set his glass down and reached across the table to take her hand. “The anniversary of the night we met. In the back room at Flotsam and Jetsam.”

“We didn’t exactly meet in the back room.” She shivered as he drew slow circles with his thumb on her palm. Leave it to Eli to memorialize their one-night stand that wasn’t. The guy had a seriously secret sentimental side and a dirty mind he kept equally under wraps with everyone but her.

“Maybe not.” One corner of his mouth curled into a naughty grin. “But it was certainly the most memorable part of the evening.”

David reappeared, humming Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata and bearing two steaming soup bowls, about as unobtrusive as an elephant in a tutu.

“Roast carrot and fennel soup with parsley walnut pesto,” he announced as he set the bowls down in front of them.

“Looks delish,” Brooke said, digging in.

Eli chuckled, and she paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. “What’s so funny?”

“You. It’s refreshing to see a woman who’s not afraid to enjoy her food.” He laid his spoon aside and cleared his throat. “I was going to wait until dessert, but…”

He pushed his chair back and fumbled in his pants pocket. “Dammit. Things went a lot smoother when I imagined this moment. But I was afraid to lose it, so I pinned it to the lining.”

“Afraid to lose what?”

“This.”

Brooke’s heart stuttered to a stop. Between the thumb and index finger of his outstretched hand, Eli held the most exquisite diamond ring she’d ever seen. The shimmering, old European cut diamond was set in platinum and accented on either side by a trio of smaller, single-cut stones, giving the ring a vintage, art deco feel.

She sat transfixed, unable to move but eventually, thankfully, able to speak. “Does that mean what I think?”

“If you think it means I’m asking you to spend the rest of your life with me, ’til death do us part, then yes.” The silence stretched between them as he twirled the ring in his fingers, the light from the LEDs catching the facets of the stones in brilliant, golden flashes. “I believe it’s customary for the lady to give some sort of an answer.”

“Well, duh.” She plucked the ring from his fingers and slipped it over her knuckle, resisting the urge to go all girly and stretch out her hand to admire it. There was time enough for that later, in private. “Of course I’ll marry you. Who else would put up with my mood swings, off-key singing, and Diet Coke addiction?”

“A small price to pay for my snoring, leaving the cap off the toothpaste, and neglecting to change the toilet paper roll.”

He leaned in to kiss her. She met him halfway, but their lips had barely made contact when a piercing shriek cut through the air, making them jump apart.

“Oh. My. God.” David whipped his cell phone out of his pocket and stabbed at the screen. “Houston, we have a problem. Lover boy jumped the gun. She’s got the ring on her finger. Get up here with the good stuff, stat.”

He ended the call, shoved the phone back in his pocket and glared at Eli. “What happened to waiting for dessert?”

“Sorry.” Eli gave one shoulder a half-hearted shrug that said he wasn’t the least bit sorry. “Patience isn’t my strong suit.”

“What does he mean, the good stuff?” Brooke smiled across the table at her fiancé.Fiancé. The word sent ripples of excitement and anticipation through her. Eli was her fiancé. She was going to be his wife. A year ago—hell, eight months ago—it would have seemed impossible. But now the impossible had become reality. “I thought this night was pretty darned good already.”