The Platinum Collection

‘As soon as it can be arranged—it will be a proper wedding,’ Cesario decreed without hesitation. ‘With the dress, the big guest list, the whole bridal show.’

‘Is that really necessary?’ Jess pressed uneasily, wincing at the prospect of having to play the blushing bride for an audience of posh strangers.

‘It won’t look like a normal marriage otherwise,’ he pointed out.

‘Oh, my goodness, what am I going to tell my family?’ she suddenly gasped in an appalled undertone.

‘Not the truth, for that is only for you and I to know,’ Cesario spelt out in a tone of warning.

He had just given her an impossible embargo, but Jess was already reaching the conclusion that it was better not to blurt out unwary comments around Cesario. She knew even then that she would tell her mother the truth, but that she would present it in an edited version to satisfy her father’s curiosity without making the older man feel responsible for her predicament. She breathed in deep and slow, reminding herself firmly of the positive aspects to her situation and repeating them over and over to herself in a soothing mantra. Her father would not pay the price for his stupidity and her family circle would stay intact. She would hopefully end up with the baby she had long dreamt of having and she would even have that all important wedding ring on her finger first, since her mother set great store on a woman being married in advance of the arrival of children.

So what if it was a project rather than a wedding? She could cope with that. She was very realistic and, if he was as good at everything else as he was at kissing, given time she would surely come to terms with the more intimate aspects of their relationship. Women didn’t always marry just for love, she reminded herself doggedly, and neither did men, as Cesario was about to prove. If such a marriage was good enough for him when she was convinced that he could have so many more exciting options, it should be good enough for her as well.

‘Why did you choose me for this?’ she heard herself ask without warning.

His dense lashes swooped low over his brilliant dark gaze. ‘Ask me on our wedding night,’ he advised, a piece of advice that not unnaturally silenced her.

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