Page 2 of Consequences of Their Wedding Charade
‘Jessica, as it happens. Rang her doorbell for half an hour! No answer. Where the heck is the woman?’
‘Flowers...forJess?’
Curtis flushed, glanced at his watch and fidgeted in the chair, which suddenly felt constricting. His godfather’s sharp blue eyes were pinned to his face with undisguised curiosity.
‘Why?’
‘It’s not a crime to buy a bunch of flowers for someone,’ Curtis said with just a hint of defensiveness in his voice.
How was it that in the world of the billionaire he was the leader of the pack and yet in a cottage on the outskirts of Ely he was reduced to perspiring round the collar at the prospect of a couple of awkward questions from his sixty-eight-year-old godfather?
When he had absolutely nothing to hide whatsoever.
‘I...er...it’s been a while since I saw her. Naturally, I’ve emailed a couple of times...always good to know what’s...er...happening around here...’
‘You mean you get in touch when you want to find out if I’m all right...’ William said shrewdly. ‘Make sure the old codger hasn’t fallen into a state of utter despair because his ticker isn’t what it used to be...’ He chortled and waved an admonishing finger. ‘Appreciate the concern, my son, but I’m doing fine! And now that you ask about Jess,’ he continued smugly, ‘the girl’s finally doing what I’ve been advising her to do for the past two years. She’s getting out there and dating!’ He cast a jaundiced eye over the flowers. ‘And no suitor worth his salt is going to appreciate some other chap bringing flowers to his intended!’
Curtis had never heard such a string of old-fashioned terms in his life before.Suitor? Chap? Intended?Never mind that he wasnoneof those things!
‘In that case—’ he flattened his hands on the table and rose with fluid grace to his feet ‘—I’ll take doughnuts...’
Jess surfaced groggily to the insistent ringing of her doorbell.
When she looked at her phone, it was to discover that it was a little after eight. That made it an hour past her usual waking up time, whether she was working or not.
Thank God it was half-term and she wasnotbecause she would have had a crazy rush to get to the school in time.
Nevertheless, she felt slothful at having slept in, even though it had been a long and wearisome night.
How could a date with a friend of a friend of a friend, who had sounded so perfect on paper, have turned out to be so...dull?
He was a fellow teacher at a school in York, he had a degree in philosophy from Oxford Uni, which should have guaranteed an active and energetic mind, plus he taught PE, so how bad could it be, and yet...
She shook her head, flung on the dressing gown from behind the bedroom door and flew to the front door.
She lived in a tiny terraced house and whenever the postman decided to do what he did best—relax on the doorbell for minutes on end—she was terrified that one of her lovely but extremely old neighbours would be upset at the resulting din.
She pulled open the front door to yet another grim and wintry sky and was busily tying the cord of her dressing gown tightly round her as her mouth fell open when for a few seconds she had the sort of brain fog that only descended when one of her kids at school got it into their head that paying attention in class meant talking at full volume over what she was trying to say.
Curtis.
Curtis Hamilton...six foot plus of prime alpha male, so insanely sexy that perfectly normal human beings with their heads firmly screwed on started doing stupid things when he decided to turn the full wattage of his attention on them.
Jess had known him for so long, had been hisfriendfor such a long time, that she should have been immune to his looks, his charm and his wit but she never had been.
He’d been ten and she was three years younger when he had appeared at their primary school and, of course, all focus had been on the new kid.
She’d seen him around and about but it was when her mum had taken the job as housekeeper to his godfather that she had really become friends with him. She could remember long summer holidays, poling over to the Farrow place, as her mother used to call it, hanging around while her mum cleaned and tidied and sometimes sat and had a cup of tea with Mr Farrow, an adorable little man with fastidious ways and a knack when it came to baking.
Curtis was older but he was patient. He’d never seemed to mind taking her fishing or including her with his group of friends. Looking back, she could see that he had sensed her insecurities, her inherent shyness, the bookish personality that had concealed, as she had entered adolescence, her intense awkwardness at being the ‘big girl’ in the class.
Later, she thought that maybe hehadminded, but had been too kind to say anything.
As they’d got older there’d been a brief spell when he seemed to disappear but then, when she turned thirteen, she suddenly seemed to becomevisible. He’d told her about his plans to make it big, laughed when she quizzed him about his girlfriends, rolled his eyes and confided that he just didn’t have sticking power when it came to relationships...
She preciously guarded that place in his life. Girlfriends came and went but she was always there and how dependent she had gradually become on the confidence he gave her, patching up her anxious hesitation about her looks, making her feel good about herself at a time in her teenage years when being‘one of the lads’ had not been what she’d wanted. Her parents had always been there for her, but they were biased. She’d needed a different kind of affirmation and he’d given it to her in spades just by being there for her.
And what would she had done if he hadn’t been there for her when her beloved dad had died five years previously? Curtis had been away but had returned as soon as he’d heard and he’d been the perfect shoulder to cry on.
