I Do--Or Do I?

by Karen King

  ‘Sorry?’ Jared stared at her, puzzled.

  ‘There’ll be three of them in it.’ The woman finished her wine and tried to form her lips into a smile. They barely moved. ‘Well, it’s been nice talking to you.’ She turned and swept away.

  Three of them in it. The words swirled around Jared’s mind. What did she mean? Was she insinuating that Timothy had a mistress? Or did she mean his mother? She seemed the interfering type, the sort of woman that thought no one was good enough for her son.

  ‘I see you’ve met Margot?’ Ingrid joined him.

  ‘Is that her name? She was asking me about the Campbells.’

  ‘Yes, she and Timothy had a thing for a while. Poor Margot, she thought he was going to propose, but he lost interest in her. Finished it saying she was too clingy.’

  Jared shrugged. ‘I guess we’ve all got a past.’

  ‘True.’ Ingrid studied him thoughtfully. ‘I’m surprised you aren’t taken yourself. I expected you to turn up with a beautiful woman on your arm.’

  ‘I prefer to keep my relationships casual.’

  ‘Really? Then there’s hope for the women here who are gagging to meet you. Come along and I’ll introduce you to everyone.’

  Ingrid grasped him lightly by the arm and steered him over to a crowd of people talking in the corner of the room. He could feel the women’s eyes on him assessing him, and fixed a broad smile on his face. A smile got you everywhere, his father always said. It cost nothing but made a lot of difference to how people viewed you. He’d always remembered that. So he joined the group and talked and smiled all evening, trying hard not to think about Cassie or what Margot had meant by the words, ‘There’ll be three in their marriage.’

  It was none of his business. It was Cassie’s choice who she married. Yet he couldn’t help thinking that Timothy wasn’t the right man for her: he was too uptight, too cold, and calculating. He wouldn’t love her like he had done.

  Well, he had walked away and now Timothy had picked up the pieces of Cassie and made her whole again. She probably thought that Timothy was a sensible, reliable partner. A safe option.

  He hoped for her sake that she was right.

  Thirteen

  When Cassie checked her email in the office on Monday she was delighted to find one from Adele, the lady from the Discovering France exhibition, asking her to go on a press trip to write about wedding venues in the Dordogne region. The four-day trip was in three weeks’ time and three of the hotels in the wedding company were providing accommodation for the party of journalists. Cassie almost whooped with delight. It had been ages since she’d been on a press trip. They didn’t come in that often and when they did Owen usually shared them around, but this was a personal invitation. Of course she’d have to clear it with Owen, but she was sure he’d agree – it was tied in with her column and they could do a spread on wedding venues. He was in his office so she went to ask him right away.

  ‘Sure. Go for it. Sounds perfect. You should get enough material for a few spreads linked to your column out of that,’ Owen told her. ‘When is it?’

  ‘June 11th – three weeks’ time,’ she said. Two weeks before the wedding. She’d have to make sure she had everything pretty well wrapped up by then. She didn’t think Timothy would mind, he had never objected to her going on a press trip before, although Sylvia wouldn’t approve, she made it clear that she thought Cassie’s place was at home looking after Timothy, as if Timothy couldn’t cope without her for a few days. He’d barely notice, to be honest; he was a busy man and no doubt would take the opportunity to shut himself in his study and work until midnight without having to worry about neglecting her.

  As she drove home she thought about the press trip to France. She wished now that she’d said Paige and Ian were getting married in France, that would shake everyone off the scent and she could use a lot of info from her press trip there. Maybe she could have them going on honeymoon to France? She wanted to write some stuff about the trip in the column, but how could she do that without making it sound too much like real life?

  To her surprise, Timothy was home when she got in and the table was laid for two, candles burning, roses in bud vases, napkins tied with ribbons. The whole works.

  ‘This looks lovely,’ she smiled as he came forward to kiss her. ‘Are we celebrating something?’

  ‘I thought it was time we spent a bit of time together, and finalised some of our wedding plans,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, it’s a low calorie meal. I know you’re worrying about putting on weight for the wedding.’

  I’m not, you and your mother are. ‘Give me ten minutes to shower and change and I’ll be with you.’

  They spent an enjoyable evening going through the arrangements and ticking off all the things they had left to do. They also made a comprehensive list of the photographs they wanted, agreeing on engagement and pre-wedding shots as well as a mini booth for the guests.

  ‘You can give the photographer this when you return the photo album on Thursday,’ Timothy said. He always referred to Jared as ‘the photographer’, refusing to call him J.M.

  She wasn’t relishing the thought of seeing Jared again, but it would only take a few minutes to hand him the album and give him the details of the photos they wanted him to take. She could handle that.

  ‘We still have the flowers, the cake, the reception, and the favours to sort out,’ Timothy said. ‘That’s quite a list.’ He looked at her. ‘I think we might have to ask Mother to help.’

  Oh heck, must we? Cassie stifled a groan. She had to admit that Timothy had a point. There was still a long list of things to do. What on earth had possessed them to bring the wedding forward!

  Sylvia.

  Timothy took out his diary and flicked through the pages. ‘Do you realise that we have only five weekends before our wedding day? We really need to sort out as much as we can tonight.’

  Cassie suddenly remembered that she hadn’t told him about the trip to France yet. She quickly explained. ‘A couple of wedding venues in The Dordogne want us to do a feature on them and they’ve asked especially for me. It’s only for a few days. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Not at all. It might come in useful. You could make a note of the table decorations, perhaps. It might be good to carry on with the French theme of the castle.’ He opened his diary on June. ‘So you’re away when? Friday to Monday?’

  ‘Thursday to Monday,’ she told him. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’

  ‘Of course not. Work’s work. I’ll miss you, obviously, but I’ll be deep in the Winford case by then, so I’ll be working all weekend.’

  He made a note in his diary, then closed it. ‘Now, what do you say we ask Mother to organise the table decorations and reception? She’s so good at the kind of thing. That will leave you the wedding cake, flowers, favours, and bridesmaids’ gifts to deal with. You should be able to do that in time.’

  The nice bits, Cassie thought. Why not? Sylvia was good at organising.

  ‘Of course, if she doesn’t mind.’

  ‘She’ll be delighted. She loves to help, you know that. I’ll phone her now’ He took his phone out of his pocket and started to dial. Cassie picked up both their glasses and carried them into the kitchen to refill them.

  As she opened the fridge to get the bottle of wine she could hear Timothy saying to Sylvia, ‘Thank you, Mother. We’ll sort out the present list tonight and Cassie will send it over.’

  She hated the thought of doing a present list. It seemed so rude. She’d been brought up to believe that it’s the thought that counts and you should be grateful for whatever anyone bought you. If it was left to her she wouldn’t have a present list.

  Or a big fancy do. Or Jared as her photographer.

  Or even be getting married.

  The thought slipped into her mind uninvited and she thrust it back out again. Of course she wanted to marry Timothy, it was just that things were happening so quickly. She poured the wine into her glass and took a bi
g sip. Since she’d accepted Timothy’s proposal on Valentine’s Day, it felt like events were running away with her, and she wasn’t in charge of her own life.

  It’s only natural to feel a bit nervous about the wedding. Everyone does, she reminded herself.

  ‘Cassie, darling, have you poured that wine yet?’

  ‘Coming!’ She took another swig out of her glass, refilled it, then carried both drinks into the lounge.

  ‘Cassie, is your column ready?’ Gary called as soon as she walked in on Wednesday.

  That column was the bane of her life. She’d been thinking about it this morning, wondering what to write about, and hadn’t decided on anything yet. She cast her mind back to the weekend – she could write about choosing the bridesmaid dresses and give the readers the option of deciding which ones she should buy? She’d slip in a bit about Jared too, of course, just to keep Owen happy.

  She ended up writing quite a lot about Jared. Once she started it just all seemed to spill out.

  ‘This is brilliant,’ Owen said when it finally landed on his desk. ‘You’re really getting the hang of this, aren’t you?’ He looked up at her questioningly. ‘You are over this photographer guy, aren’t you?’

  ‘Of course I am! I wouldn’t mention him if you didn’t make me.’ She paused. ‘I’m trying to add a bit of drama to keep the reader hooked. Is it too much?’

  Owen shook his head. ‘No, it makes them wonder if she’s still got the hots for him, which is a great selling point. They’ll keep buying the paper to see if she gets married or runs off with the photographer.’

  ‘Really?’ Her words came out in a squeak. That was terrible. She didn’t want Jared thinking that – she was trying to use her column to let him know she wasn’t interested.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, it’s not overdone. Just enough to tease. You’re making a fab job of this, Cassie. I might give you another column when you’ve finished with this one. I reckon you’ve got the knack for it.’

  She grinned. Owen didn’t give praise lightly.

  ‘I just hope for your sake it is fiction, because if it isn’t you shouldn’t be marrying your lawyer.’ He walked back into the office, leaving Cassie stunned.

  Fourteen

  Cassie wasn’t the least bit bothered about seeing Jared again. The only reason she hadn’t been able to sleep last night was because she had so much on her mind, what with all the wedding preparations, and the trip to France. It was nothing to do with having to see Jared again, nothing at all. She was only wearing this ultra-smart suit because she had to interview someone for the paper that afternoon.

  ‘Ah, Miss Tyler. J.M. sends his apologies but he’s tied up with another client. He’ll be with you in a few minutes,’ the receptionist said. ‘Could I offer you a coffee while you’re waiting?’

  ‘No thank you. I’ll just take a seat.’ Cassie sat down and picked up one of the magazines on the table. A Sunday supplement to one of the major newspapers. As she flicked through the pages, her eyes rested on a photograph of a giraffe at a waterhole in the African sunset. It was a beautiful, evocative picture. She looked at the by-line underneath and saw that the photographer was Jared. He’s good, she thought, and he obviously loves his job. Their break-up had hurt her terribly but looking at these photographs she saw that Jared had made the right decision. He was so gifted, if he had remained with her and they’d got married, he would never have realised his dream. Love can stifle you, she thought. It makes you compromise.

  Like she was doing with Timothy: living in a city apartment when she’d really love a country cottage, working on the local newspaper when she longed to spread her wings and write for a travel magazine, getting married in few weeks when she’d really like to wait a bit longer. A lot longer. It all felt so rushed. As if she had no time to breathe.

  ‘Cassie, so sorry to keep you waiting.’ Jared was in front of her, casually dressed in faded denim and a white T-shirt, his dark hair slightly tousled as if he’d been running his fingers through it.

  ‘These photos are fantastic. It must have taken you ages to get the right moment to take them,’ she told him. She put the magazine back on the table and stood up, smoothing down her skirt.

  ‘It did. You’ll be amazed how patient I am now. I’ll sit for hours waiting for the right photograph.’ He grinned at her and her heart did a flip. He’d always had a melt-your-soul grin. Whenever he’d annoyed her, that soppy grin had always won her around.

  He’d never been patient though, she remembered. He’d always been buzzing, so full of energy; everything had to be done now.

  ‘I guess we’ve both changed,’ she said, as she followed him into the side room. ‘I’ve actually managed to get over my fear of heights. I went on a cable car in Switzerland, you know. OK, I felt a bit panicky, but I did it.’ She’d been so proud of that. She’d been scared of heights as far back as she could remember, so when Timothy and the other members of their group had walked over to the cable car on their skiing trip last year, she’d been almost paralysed with fear. Not wanting to make a scene in front of everyone, she’d forced herself to get in and spent the entire trip clutching Timothy’s hand, her eyes closed, praying silently. She’d been so relieved when they reached the top of the mountain. She’d done it. The next day, the trip hadn’t seemed so bad. By the end of the holiday she could get in the cable car without shaking, and keep her eyes open for the mountain ascent, although she still dreaded it.

  ‘I’m impressed.’ His brown eyes twinkled with amusement. She knew he was probably remembering the episode when he’d tried to persuade her to climb up to Blackpool Tower, and she’d stopped halfway, shaking so much he’d had to hold her hand and walk all the way back down again with her. Then she’d waited at the bottom while he’d gone back up and waved at her from the top.

  ‘Take a seat,’ he indicated the chair by the desk and sat down on the edge of the desk. ‘Which album did you go for?’

  ‘The embossed one, with a cream cover and heart inset.’ Cassie took out the albums and pointed to the one they’d decided on. ‘Can we have a pale blue heart, please? It’s our wedding colour. And we’d like a pre-engagement shot at the restaurant where we got engaged. We thought it would be nice to build up a record of our engagement and the run-up to the wedding. Like a photographic diary. It was Timothy’s idea, but I thought it was nice. We can recreate the scene, can’t we? I can remember what I was wearing.’

  ‘Certainly. What else did you have in mind?’

  Cassie took out her notes. ‘Perhaps you could come along for the wedding dress fitting? And the bridesmaids’ one? Take a few shots of us all fooling around as we try on the dresses? And choosing the flowers, shopping with the mother of the bride, that sort of thing?’

  ‘Of course. Pass me the list and I’ll work out costings for you. Daniel has you on mates’ rates as he is friendly with your “monster-in-law”.’

  Cassie flushed. ‘You’ve been reading my column again?’

  ‘Yes, and I got the message loud and clear.’

  That’s what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? To let him know that she wasn’t interested in him, yet now she felt like she’d been a bit … mean. ‘It’s only journalism; nothing personal.’

  As she went to hand him the notes, the papers slipped out of her hand. She bent down to get them at the same time as Jared did and their heads bumped together.

  ‘Ouch!’ She rubbed her head.

  ‘Sorry, are you hurt?’ He reached out and touched her forehead. ‘It feels like you’ve got a bump.’

  As he ran his fingers over the bump she felt her skin burn and an irresistible longing for him to run his fingers over her face, her neck, and her body, coursed through her. His eyes were gazing into hers just the way they used to, tenderly but laced with desire. Then his fingers were running down her cheeks, her neck, and she gasped, her eyes widening at the electrifying tingle that shot through her body. She saw his eyes suddenly darken with desire and then his head was bending towards her.
She heard him murmur her name and felt his lips on hers, softly at first, then more intensely.

  And, God help her, she was kissing him back.

  I can’t do this!

  She pushed him away, grabbed her bag, and ran out, composing herself as she passed the reception desk.

  ‘Goodbye, Miss Tyler,’ the receptionist called.

  She smiled and nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and walked through the doors, into the car park, over to the car. She didn’t stop shaking until she was sitting in the driving seat.

  What had possessed her to kiss him back like that?

  ‘Damn!’ Jared kicked the litter basket and sent it sprawling over the floor. Why had he done that?

  He walked back around the desk and sat down in the leather chair, sinking his head into his hands. He’d promised himself he’d keep this professional. He needed this job. He couldn’t afford to mess it up, but that’s exactly what he’d gone and done. Cassie would cancel the contract with them after this. He doubted if losing the deposit would bother her or Timothy much – they were obviously very financially comfortable.

  What if Cassie told Timothy about the kiss and he made a complaint about him? I.D.’s reputation was vitally important to them. He and Daniel might be friends from way back, but Daniel wouldn’t risk losing business by keeping Jared on his books. Timothy seemed the sort of man who had lots of influential friends and would use them. He could ruin I.D.’s reputation in no time.

  Cassie had kissed him back, he reminded himself. And with passion. She still loved him, he was sure of it. He could see it in her eyes, feel it when she was talking to him. She might not want to. It was obvious she wanted to go ahead with her plans to marry Timothy the twat, but that didn’t change the fact that she still had feelings for him.

  He loved her too. He didn’t want to any more than Cassie wanted to love him. He had his life all sorted out, and loving Cassie – loving anyone – wasn’t part of it. But he couldn’t seem to control his feelings, the desire he felt for her. He’d probably never stopped loving Cassie, and now he’d met her again, those feelings had resurfaced.