From Mistresses To Wives?. Lee Wilkinson

yourself?’

      The irony stung. ‘Obviously not,’ she returned tartly.

      His sigh was clearly audible. ‘Sorry, that was uncalled for. We’re both of us under pressure. I’ll see you in the morning.’

      He cut the call before she could respond. She replaced the receiver in its rest feeling decidedly downbeat.

      ‘I get the feeling there’s rather more to this than meets the eye,’ Leonie observed. ‘Want to talk about it?’

      Jessica’s hesitation was brief. Much as she needed to unload, she was too aware of how it would look. To marry in the throes of overpowering love was one thing, to do it for the reasons she and Zac were doing it was quite another. ‘Hardly likely to last very long’ would be the least of Leonie’s comments.

      ‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ she denied. ‘If I seem a bit distracted, it’s just that everything seems to be happening so fast! Zac’s grandfather wants us to get married from his home down in Dorset.’

      ‘So he said.’ It was obvious that Leonie wasn’t totally deceived. ‘Nice of him to indulge the old man. Afraid I won’t be able to make the wedding myself. I’m working in Frankfurt over the weekend.’

      Jessica made the appropriate noises, scarcely knowing whether to be glad or sorry. There was every chance that it would finish up with just the four of them, anyway, because she very much doubted if either of her parents would attend. They both had their own very separate lives to lead.

      Leonie made no further mention of Zac at all until she was leaving for work the following morning.

      ‘I’m not doing any more prying,’ she said. ‘I just hope you know what you’re doing.’

      ‘I do.’ Jessica wished she could convince herself of it. ‘Everything is absolutely fine!’

      The doubts didn’t wholly disappear on sight of Zac shortly afterwards, but they became immaterial in his embrace. When he kissed her like this, with every evidence of having missed her as much as she had missed him last night, she could think of nothing else.

      The morning traffic was heavy. It took them almost an hour to make it to Chelsea. Jessica’s spirits were dampened again when Zac departed almost immediately for the office, although she could understand his need to be there after several days away, and more to come. In the meantime, she was hardly short of things to do.

      She began by unpacking. She’d brought nothing but her clothes and a few personal items away from the rented flat she had shared with Paul, so her whole life was contained in the two suitcases.

      There was a wall of wardrobes in the master bedroom. She fingered through the suits and casual clothing already stored there, visualising the well-honed male body they were made for. Tonight they would share a bed again. Every night from now on, in fact. She knew a sudden swelling resolve. They were going to make a go of this. They couldn’t fail to make a go of it!

      The unpacking completed, she considered her options. It was midday already, but she still had the afternoon and the whole of tomorrow to do what she had to do. White, Zac had said, so white it would be. Anything to make his grandfather happy in his declining days.

      One thing she certainly didn’t need to do was set about any housework. Zac hadn’t mentioned any domestic help, but he must employ someone to keep everything so pristine. She had no quarrel with that. The thought of spending her days dusting and polishing held little appeal. Although willing to indulge Henry Prescott’s ideals up to a point, she had no intention of remaining a stay-at-home wife either. Zac could surely find her a job with the company.

      She had just finished a light lunch when the domestic help arrived. The woman who let herself into the house with a key was in her mid-thirties; her tailored overall bore a logo Jessica recognised as that of a well known agency. From the newcomer’s lack of surprise on seeing her, she deduced that this wasn’t the first time overnight visitors had been found lingering.

      ‘Sorry to disturb you,’ the woman proffered with more than a hint of irony. ‘I’m here to do the cleaning.’

      Jessica gave a smile. ‘I’m Jessica Saunders. Mr Prescott’s fiancée.’

      That did gain a reaction. ‘Fiancée!’

      ‘That’s right.’ Jessica kept the smile going. ‘And you are?’

      ‘Barbara Manners. I’ve been cleaning for Zac for the last twelve months.’

      Jessica wasn’t slow to note the slight emphasis on her use of Zac’s first name. Typical of him not to stand on ceremony, though she wouldn’t have thought the two of them met up very often if this was the hour Barbara usually arrived.

      ‘Well, just do what you normally do,’ she said lamely.

      She took herself to task as the other went on through to the kitchen. So Barbara was an attractive woman, not all that much older than Zac himself. Was she going to suspect him of bedding every attractive female he came into contact with?

      Somehow reluctant to leave her alone in the house, she rescheduled the shopping trip for the following day, and took it on herself to sort out laundry from the basket in the main bedroom, although there wasn’t a great deal. The small utility off the kitchen held a combined washer-dryer. Barbara came into the room as she loaded it.

      ‘I always do that on a Friday,’ she said. ‘The ironing too. Zac’s very particular about his shirts.’

      Jessica said mildly, ‘I’ll leave you to it in future, then. I was going to make coffee. Would you like a cup?’

      She made the coffee, and took it through on a tray to the sitting room where Barbara was running a quite unnecessary vacuum over the carpet.

      ‘Sit down for a few minutes,’ she invited.

      The other woman perched on the arm of a chair, her gaze speculative as she took the cup Jessica handed her.

      ‘It’s a bit of a shock, I must say,’ she remarked. ‘I had Zac down as a sworn bachelor! Known him long, have you?’

      Jessica kept her tone light. ‘Long enough.’

      ‘Well, I can’t blame you for snapping him up. Not that I envy you the job you’re going to have. I know what it’s like being married to a man used to variety. Vows don’t mean a great deal when the sap rises.’

      ‘There are exceptions to every rule,’ Jessica returned, determined not to let the cynicism get to her.

      Barbara gave a short laugh. ‘So they say.’ She drained the cup, and got back to her feet. ‘Must get on. I’ve another job to go to after this.’

      She left at three, having first stacked the dried laundry in a basket ready for Friday. Knowing it was sheer perversity on her part, Jessica set up the ironing board and spent the next half hour on a job that had never held any great appeal for her at the best of times. What she did like to do was cook on occasion, but the refrigerator held little to inspire her. Zac, she guessed, would more often than not eat out.

      That particular problem was solved when Zac rang to say Leonie had contacted him to invite the two of them over for dinner that evening.

      ‘She’d have phoned you,’ he said, ‘only she didn’t have the number. I’m ex-directory,’ he added, anticipating the question that leapt to Jessica’s mind. ‘Anyway, I’ll make sure I’m home early enough to make it back across town for eight.’

      She could hardly keep the two of them apart indefinitely, Jessica acknowledged, struggling to overcome her reluctance to see them together. She would just have to put a rein on her imagination.

      Zac got in at six-thirty, surprised to see the freshly ironed shirts Jessica had hung to air on the wardrobe door before putting them away.

      ‘There was no need for this,’ he said mildly. ‘Barbara does the laundry on a Friday. I completely forgot to tell you