Chapter One

      ‘Marriages are made in heaven’ had been the Master of Ceremonies’ opening remark at a mutual friend’s wedding eighteen months ago.

      ‘So are tornados, hurricanes and tropical storms.’

      He’d turned at the sarcastic mutter behind him and looked into a pair of deep-as-midnight blue eyes and felt his heart bounce off his ribcage. Ka-doof!

      ‘Not a believer in the institution?’ he asked sotto voice as he stood with his back to the MC.

      ‘Hell, no,’ she’d scoffed. ‘You don’t need a certificate to be committed; you just need to be committed.’

      He took a step back to stand next to the gorgeous sable-haired cynic.

      ‘Are you telling me that you can’t think of one reason to get married? Love?’

      He kept his eyes on her face and watched her eyes narrow at his bland tone.

      ‘What’s love got to do with it? What can you do married that you can’t do living together? And then, to add insult to injury, when you marry you shove all your financial eggs into one basket and when you decide that you no longer want to be together, you have this turgid mess you have to pick through.’ Joely shook her head so hard that he thought she’d shake loose her sexy, messy pile of curls. ‘Madness. What’s that old saying…marriage is an institution and who wants to be in an institution?’

      A lady of strong views, he’d thought. ‘My name is Ben Duncan.’

      ‘Joely Bennett.’

      ‘Can I get you a drink?’

      Two shallow dimples flashed when she smiled. ‘Only if you promise not to propose.’

      ‘Well, not tonight.’

      Eighteen months later and while much had changed between them, Joely’s anti-marriage views hadn’t. And that was why he’d chosen The Chatsfield to launch his campaign to change Joely’s mind. There was a reason it was voted one of the most romantic hotels in the world. The hotel, rich, luxurious, decadent, gave the subtle impression that anything was possible, that magic was hovering just around the corner.

      Well, that was what the brochures and website said…Ben just wanted to get Joely out of their flat where she felt comfortable and settled, and hopefully she’d see happy honeymooners and settled families and wrinklies who’d been married for a hundred years.

      He was also hoping that, since it was her birthday, she wouldn’t give him the silent treatment for raising ‘That Which Must Not Be Discussed’.

      Joely had been hard to catch and, if he had to be honest, he still wasn’t sure whether she was really his. It had taken three weeks to persuade her to have dinner with him, another six to get her into bed and getting her to move in with him had required the finesse of a brain surgeon. Dr Joely Ann Bennett did not like change.

      He believed in marriage, in the concept, in the promises that he wanted to make to her in front of their family and friends. And he didn’t fail; it wasn’t in his makeup, despite his genetics. When he started something he finished it, every single time. Unlike his father who flitted through life bouncing from one get rich quick scheme to another, expecting Ben to bail him out when it went pear shaped again. Like Joely’s parents, his father also had a tenuous grasp on the concept of commitment and fidelity.

      Well, Ben and Joely were not their parents and they could do anything they wanted to…

      And that was why, wildly optimistic sap that he was, he was here with a kick-ass ring in the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

      Of course, it could also mean that he was freakin’ nuts.

      Ben jammed his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers and looked around the lobby of the opulent hotel. Built and decorated in the ‘twenties at the beginning of the art deco period, it still retained the glamour and subdued sexiness of that era. The massive front reception desk had been hand-carved with geometric inlays of abalone shell and ivory and the couches and easy chairs, in bold jewel tone colours, were from the same period. Despite having a double-volume ceiling and a fountain with a brass statue of a naked sprite in the middle of the lobby, it still retained the feel of a rich country house…if the country house was Blenheim or Buckingham Palace.

      Ben looked at his watch and cursed when he saw that Joely was fifteen minutes late. He was just reaching for his mobile when it rang and he knew it was her.

      ‘Honey, you’re late…again.’

      ‘Working on my birthday is contrary to all the rules of the universe but my day is over and it’s time to play!’ Joely replied and, despite her jovial tone, Ben could hear the exhaustion in her voice.

      ‘You ok?’ he asked, immediately concerned.

      Joely sighed. ‘I really need that drink…and you.’

      ‘Bad day?’

      ‘Kind of…and really busy. Apart from being such a treat, having a drink at The Chatsfield is a nice bridge between the blood and gore of the patients from an RTA and