everyone in the office—you, even. If I don’t work, Jane, no one gets paid.’
It was more than that; they both knew it. But if he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do the job himself, he must offer a surrogate. ‘Then, I repeat, she needs a mother. You are the only person who can provide her with one. I appreciate that finding time to look for yourself is difficult, hence the ad. Or you could use an agency. Lots of people in your situation take this route.’
‘Maybe they do. Maybe you’re right.’ He tossed the advertisement she’d drafted on the desk and then raised one hand in a gesture of helplessness at the silver frame containing a photograph of Shuli’s mother. ‘I appreciate your concern and I’ll give it some thought, but can we move on, please?’ He picked up a file.
‘It’s three years, Mark,’ she said, refusing to let the subject drop. ‘Caroline would expect you to move on. She’d want Shuli to have what all children need.’
He was beginning to look haunted. ‘Where in the world would I find the kind of woman who’d take on someone else’s child?’
‘It’s not that uncommon these days. With the high divorce rate.’
But that wasn’t the problem and they both knew it. The problem was that no one could ever be as wonderful as Caroline…as perfect as Caroline…as beautiful as Caroline.
‘Very well,’ he conceded, finally accepting that she wasn’t going to let the subject drop. ‘The kind of woman who’d be prepared to accept the one-way relationship which is all I could offer?’ That he’d said it out loud, admitted it, was the first step, Jane knew. He glanced at the child, quietly working at her drawing. ‘I know you mean well, but I couldn’t ask it of any woman. Certainly not one with all the great qualities I’d want for Shuli.’
Jane felt his pain, physically hurting for the man. She wanted to reach across the desk, take his dear face in her hands and tell him that everything would be fine if only he’d trust her…
Keeping her voice brisk and businesslike, she said, ‘Don’t underrate yourself, Mark. You can offer a lovely home, a comfortable life, friendship. A lot of women would be happy to settle for that.’
‘Would they? And how would I know they weren’t just doing it for the money? That a year on this “warm, caring non-smoker with a good sense of humour” wouldn’t be suing for a divorce and a big fat chunk of my assets?’
He’d spotted the flaw in her suggestion. She’d been sure he would. Well, he’d look for any excuse to evade the issue.
‘I think Shuli could be relied upon to see off any pretenders.’
That, at least, raised a smile. ‘Yes, I suppose she would.’ He sat back, regarded her across the broad desk. ‘You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?’
‘Of course. I wouldn’t come to you with some half-baked plan.’
‘No.’ He continued to regard her thoughtfully. ‘Tell me, Jane, would you settle for a platonic marriage?’
This was it. The opening she’d been waiting for. She swallowed. ‘Are you asking me?’ she replied, her voice perfectly calm even while her heart was pounding loud enough to be heard in the next county.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I want to know if you’d marry a man who wasn’t in love with you?’
She shook her head. More hair slithered from the grip of pins unequal to the task. ‘No, Mark. That wasn’t my question.’ He frowned, and she very nearly lost her nerve. It wasn’t too late to bottle out…‘My question was…are you asking me if I’d marry you?’
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