From Mistresses To Wives?. Lee Wilkinson
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу From Mistresses To Wives? - Lee Wilkinson страница 25
‘I’m just not cut out for marriage,’ she said in the kitchen where the two of them were making coffee while the men talked. ‘Maybe I’ll change my mind when I’m old and lonely, but in the meantime I’m happy the way I am—beholden to nobody.
‘It certainly suits you though,’ she added with a smiling glance. ‘The look of a woman fully and frequently satisfied. Not that I’d expect any less of Zac, of course.’
Jessica let the comment pass, knowing there was no malice in the teasing. She still found it difficult to think about Leonie and Zac together in any intimate sense, but there was no point in getting upset about it. She was the one he made love to these days. The only one—or she’d better be!
The weekend they spent in Edinburgh with Isabel proved a great deal more enjoyable than she anticipated. The family consisted of a brother and wife, along with two married children who both lived within a few miles of the city with families of their own. Asked when they might consider taking the step themselves, Zac took it on himself to answer for them both with a smile and a shrug, giving the impression that they were already trying.
‘I’m not having a baby just to please your grandfather!’ Jessica stated when they were alone.
‘I’m not asking you to,’ Zac returned levelly. ‘If we started a family, it would be because we both of us wanted it.’
Unlikely, then, Jessica reflected, stifling the pang. Children belonged in a proper, balanced relationship based on love and commitment, not an arrangement like theirs that could end any time.
‘Sarah must be getting close now,’ she said. ‘Brady would have let you know, wouldn’t he?’
‘You can bet on it.’ Zac’s tone was dry. ‘He insisted on knowing the sex as soon as it was possible. If it had proved to be a girl, he’d have gone up in flames! Sons are de rigueur in his eyes.’
Looking at him through the dressing table mirror as he slid cuff links into place, Jessica felt the usual stirring in the pit of her stomach, the wave of heat building swiftly from that central core. From the top of his well-groomed dark head to the tip of his hand-made shoes, he was pure masculinity. She wanted him desperately—any way she could have him, and for as long as she could have him.
Sensing her regard, he looked round, meeting her eyes through the mirror with a familiar glint springing in his own.
‘You’re insatiable!’ he said softly. ‘Not that I’m complaining. What man would?’
He came over and drew her to her feet, bending his head to kiss his way up the taut line of her throat to finally reach her lips. Jessica kissed him back with passion. She came down to earth with reluctance when he put her regretfully from him.
‘We’ll get back to this later. We’re due at the restaurant in twenty minutes. Don’t go cold on me.’
Some chance, she thought wryly. All he had to do was touch her to have the blood throbbing in her veins again.
They’d flown up on the Friday night. They travelled back Sunday evening, arriving home around midnight.
Zac was normally out of the house by eight-thirty at the latest. This particular Monday it was coming up to half-past nine when he finally departed, leaving Jessica to throw her things together and dash for the bus she knew had no chance of getting her to work on time.
She was twenty minutes late, and earned herself a severe ticking off from the self-important manager. Jessica controlled the urge to tell him what he could do with the job. Finding another offering the same advantages when it came to hours and proximity would be difficult, and she still couldn’t face the thought of spending her days mooning around the house. In any case, she would miss the friends she’d already made here.
‘Sour-faced old prune!’ sympathised one of the latter who’d been in the vicinity, as Jessica took her place at the next checkout desk. ‘Bet his wife gave him the elbow last night. Not that I’d blame her. He’s a real misery guts!’
‘I was late,’ Jessica returned ruefully. ‘I suppose he had reason to get a bit shirty.’
‘A bit!’ The other snorted. ‘Doesn’t know the meaning of moderation, that one!’
Jessica turned her attention to the young woman who’d just unloaded her trolley onto the belt, saying a cheery ‘Hello’ to the toddler in the folding seat. A boy around two years old, he returned her gaze with solemn intensity.
‘He’s been chattering away all round the shop,’ declared his mother in fond exasperation. ‘Now you’d think he didn’t have a tongue in his head!’
Jessica smiled. ‘He’s quite right not to talk to strangers. What’s his name?’
‘Gavin,’ she supplied. ‘Just three, and a total pickle! I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t been quite so emphatic about not having a nanny when he was born.’
‘It isn’t too late,’ Jessica ventured, drawing a laugh and a shake of the head.
‘Too much of a climb down. My husband would never let me forget it! He’ll be going to nursery school before too long, anyway. That will at least give me a morning or two to myself.’
She went on chatting amiably while her goods were totalled, departing with a smile and a wave. Jessica could see part of the store car park from where she sat. The personalised number plate on the Range Rover into which the woman loaded both shopping and child was a status symbol in itself. In the nanny bracket financially, if not by choice, she judged.
She was late getting home that afternoon, because the manager insisted on her making up the time she’d lost. She got in bare minutes before Zac, who had elected to take early leave himself for once.
‘Board meetings run me ragged!’ he declared, pouring himself a stiff whisky. ‘I’m seriously considering turning beachcomber on a desert island somewhere!’ He viewed her over the rim of the glass, taking in her wind-blown hair and casual dress. ‘What have you been doing with yourself?’
‘I went to the Gardens,’ Jessica lied. ‘I felt like a walk. I took a taxi,’ she added, anticipating the next question. ‘There and back.’
The strong mouth took on a slant. ‘I’d hardly expect you to go by bus. Maybe we should think about getting you a car of your own.’
‘I’m not up to inner city driving,’ she said. ‘Anyway, there isn’t room for another car in the mews.’
Zac studied her in silence for a moment, gaze too penetrating for comfort. ‘We could move.’
‘Where?’ she asked.
‘Out of the city. Richmond, perhaps. Somewhere less congested, at any rate.’
Somewhere better to raise a child, came the fleeting thought, followed by an emphatic shake of the head. ‘I don’t want