Elle Wright - It's Always Been You

“Drake, did you hear what I said?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“I said he asked for you,” she told him. “Said he had something to give you.”

Adjusting his towel, he secured the knot. “Can you...?”

“Oh.” She hurried out of the bathroom, bumping into the door on the way out.

He slipped his sweatpants back on hurriedly. When he came out of the bathroom, Love was sitting on the bed, shoulders slouched. Grabbing a T-shirt, he pulled it on. He wondered if she’d remembered anything. His thoughts drifted to his roaming hands...her flat, quivering stomach...the sultry moans coming from her full lips. Shaking his head, he strode past her and into the living room.

The concierge greeted him with a wide smile. “Good morning, Dr. Jackson. I trust you had a wonderful night.” He shook his hand.

“What can I do for you?” Drake asked.

Love appeared in the doorway. She folded her arms across her robe and leaned against the frame.

Drake shifted his attention away from her and back to the concierge, who was eyeing Love with interest. Drake cleared his throat. “How can I help you?”

The short man coughed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t,” Drake told him.

“I just thought you might like this,” he said, holding out a small box.

Drake grabbed the box and examined it. “What’s this?”

The concierge laughed. “Very funny, Dr. Jackson.” He patted him on his shoulder. “We rushed this up as soon as it was sized.”

Opening the box, Drake gaped at the huge diamond ring. “Why did you bring me this?”

The man shifted. “You ordered it, Dr. Jackson. Last night.”

His headache suddenly grew worse. “I didn’t order this.”

“You and the missus were in the hotel store and you purchased it.”

Drake pretended he didn’t hear Love’s gasp or feel her body leaning up against his back as she gawked at the ring in his hand. “The missus? What the hell are you talking about? I’m not married.”

“Uh, sir, you and your wife approached the front desk attendant and asked to purchase the ring from the hotel jewelry store.” The man motioned to Love. “It was around three o’clock this morning. You told him you were on your way to your wedding.”

“My what?” Drake bellowed, struggling to remember that part of the evening. “This has to be a mistake. I’m not married. And what kind of jewelry store is open at three o’clock in the morning?”

“W-well, you insisted,” the concierge stuttered. “Your wife spotted the ring in the display case. You paid for it with your credit card and she gave us her ring size. Trust me, it was a legitimate transaction.”

Advil. Better yet, Vicodin. He sat on the edge of the couch and pinched his forehead. Could this day get any worse? It wasn’t enough that he had made love to his best friend and remembered only bits of it. Obviously, there was more to last night than sex.

“Are you sure, sir?” Love asked. “Maybe someone stole Drake’s wallet and used his credit card to purchase this ring?”

The concierge sucked in a deep breath. “Ma’am, perhaps the problem was too many drinks?”

Drake flew to his feet, twisted the man’s lapels in his fists and pulled him closer—nose to nose. “Watch your mouth. Perhaps you got the situation wrong.” He let him go, shoving him back a bit.

After straightening his tie, the concierge smoothed a hand over his suit coat. “I’m sorry, Dr. Jackson. But you purchased the ring. I’m sure we can pull up the security cameras.” He drew an envelope out of his inside pocket. “And this was sent over via courier this morning.”

Drake snatched the envelope and ripped it open. Love rested a hand on his arm and he glanced at her. She was stunning, and she smelled like warm vanilla. Forcing his gaze away, he pulled the thick paper out and scanned it. Sighing, he handed it to her.

“Oh, my God!”

Drake rolled his eyes. “You said this was around three?” he asked the concierge.

He nodded. “Yes, according to Bill, the manager in charge. By the way, I wanted to come here in person to let you know that we’ve upgraded you to the honeymoon suite.”

“This can’t be happening,” Love mumbled.

“Honeymoon suite?” Drake asked.

“Yes. To show our appreciation for your business.”

Running his hand through his hair, Drake told him, “I don’t need to switch rooms.”

“We’ve already made the arrangements,” the concierge insisted. “A bellboy will be here shortly to collect your things and transfer them to your new accommodations.”

“This is Vegas.” Drake crossed his arms over his chest. “People get married here all the time. Why upgrade us?”

“Well, after the amount you spent in our hotel store, it’s our pleasure.”

Drake didn’t want to ask the question, but he had to. “How much is the ring?” he groaned.

“This is an original design, worth more than the price you paid.”

“How much?” he repeated.

“We agreed on a discounted price of $15,000.”

Love let out a colorful curse, then covered her mouth.

“Fifteen thousand?” Drake roared. “Are you crazy? They knew we were drinking and they still let me pay that much money for a ring?”

“Like I said, sir, you insisted,” the man responded.

“Thank you,” Love told the concierge. “We appreciate your hospitality. Can you leave us alone for now? We need a moment.” She walked him toward the door. More like pushed him. “And we appreciate the gesture, but the honeymoon suite is not necessary.”

“Certainly, Mrs. Jackson,” the man said, with a wide smile. “Please let us know if you change your mind.”

“We will,” she assured him. “Thank you again. Have a good day.”

“I will and—”

She closed the door before the man could finish his sentence.

Drake clutched the ring box in his hand. “I spent $15,000 on a ring, Love.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “Drake, we’ll figure this out. We’ll find the receipt and try to return it.”

“Good luck with that. They sold it at a discount. It was probably a final sale.”

“We have to find your wallet,” she said, hurrying into her suite bedroom.

He followed her. She picked a pair of discarded pants off the floor and shoved her hands into the pockets. He checked his coat and discovered his wallet was there. He opened it, leafed through the receipts and found nothing. “It’s not here. I’m screwed,” he said, dropping the wallet on the dresser.

She propped her hands on his shoulders. “Drake, we got married. We don’t remember our wedding. We had sex, after almost thirty years of innocent friendship. Screwed is an understatement. But all is not lost, because we still have our brains. So I say we go find the—” she glanced at the wedding certificate “—Hunk O’ Burning Love Wedding Chapel and try to get this thing annulled. Then we can check with the jewelry store.”

Love grabbed an outfit and disappeared into the bathroom.

“Okay, Mrs. Chipper, what if this can’t be fixed?”

She emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, wearing a pair of capri pants and a tank top. “I’m not dealing with that right now. The worst has to be over.”

Another knock sounded, and they heard a familiar voice from the other side say, “Lovely, open the door.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God.”

He shook his head. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. It’s not over—not by a long shot.”

Chapter 3

“Don’t answer that.” Love wrapped a hand around Drake’s arm. The constant knocking was getting to her, but she could handle it. “Maybe she’ll go away.”

“Have you met your mother?” Drake asked.