Three new bathrooms would have to be installed, one for James, one downstairs for Sarah, and a further one upstairs connecting with Jenna’s room that Lucy could use as well when she was home from school.
Jenna had selected plain, Victorian-styled traditional sanitaryware judging it the most acceptable choice to complement the décor.
By the time Friday afternoon came round, Jenna was conscious of a satisfied tiredness. The week had been an exhausting one and she was very pleased with what she had accomplished. That keeping herself so busy had a secondary and almost more important purpose—in keeping her mind off her looming marriage—was something she preferred not to think about.
James had already telephoned and arranged to pick her up at her apartment at six. They were taking Sarah down to his godmother’s with them, and would have dinner when they reached their destination.
For the first time in as long as she could remember since she had had the money to spend on herself Jenna was perplexed about what to wear. Nearly all her clothes were geared towards her life as a businesswoman—neat, immaculate suits chosen for their conservatism; a good cashmere coat in dark navy, elegant silk shirts and fine cashmere sweaters in neutral colours.
What did she have in her wardrobe that was suitable garb for a new fiancée meeting someone important in her husband-to-be’s life for the first time?
The answer was she would have to wear one of her normal business outfits, but as she dressed in a tailored, beige, linen summer suit with a soft, coffee-brown toning shirt, for the first time Jenna did not feel comfortable in her clothes. Although she was unaware of it she wore her clothes well, her movements economic but coordinated in a way that drew attention to the slim length of her thigh beneath the fine fabric of her skirt.
Because she had spent so much time dithering about what to wear and pack she was running late. In her suitcase were her jeans and a couple of casual tops, a plain black dinner dress and another tailored suit.
She was just about to loop her hair up into a chignon when she heard the bell. Impatience made her fingers clumsy, and in the end she had to leave her hair loose while she went to let James in.
He surveyed her outfit thoughtfully, a tiny frown pleating his forehead.
‘Rather formal, isn’t it?’ he drawled finally, his scrutiny completed. ‘My godmother won’t know if it’s my fiancée she’s meeting or a new member of the board!’
Despite, or perhaps because of, her own reservations Jenna instantly fired up, her skin tinting angry pink as she spun round and said fiercely, ‘I’m sorry if my taste in clothes doesn’t appeal to you, James, but it isn’t too late for you to change your mind and find someone else to marry you!’
She knew she was goading him, but his comment, coming on top of her own doubts about the suitability of her clothes prickled her. Jenna could still remember the days after Lucy’s birth and later when money had been scarce and she had been desperately conscious of her shabby appearance and how detrimental it was to the image she had wanted to project. Clothes might not make the man or woman, but they certainly helped to create a visual impression and they were important.
‘It would be much easier simply to change your clothes,’ he retorted softly. ‘Why did you choose that outfit, Jenna? To remind me of my promise not to touch? I’ve never seen you wearing anything feminine yet.’
‘Not all women like frills and bows,’ Jenna snapped back, disliking him more with every second that passed.
‘No, but you are an extremely feminine woman, whether you’re prepared to admit it or not, and yet for some reason you deliberately try to deny that femininity. Why?’
‘I have to go and do my hair,’ Jenna hurried towards the door. ‘I won’t be long.’
She had thought by refusing to acknowledge James’s question that she had outsmarted him, but he reached the door before her, leaning broad shoulders against it, effectively blocking her exit unless she physically pushed past him, and to do that would mean reaching out and touching that powerful masculine frame. Jenna shuddered in mute recognition of her own inability to do any such thing, barely listening as he said, ‘If doing your hair means scraping it back off your face, then don’t bother, I prefer it the way it is.’
His arrogant assumption that his views held any sway with her made Jenna livid.
‘Well, I don’t,’ she told him grittily. ‘Now if you will let me pass…’
‘Jenna.’ There was a warning in the way he said her name that made her hesitate. ‘Tonight I am going to introduce you to my godmother as my wife-to-be. She’s an old lady who means a great deal to me, and if the only way I can convince her that there’s more to this marriage between us than a mere business arrangement is by physically making you leave your hair loose, then believe me I will.’
Jenna did believe him, but even so her face remained stubbornly set. Deep down inside herself she knew she was being stubborn to no good cause. What did it matter which way she left her hair? But she was determined not to let James get the better of her, and tell her what to do.
‘Scrape it back if that’s what you wish,’ he told her coolly, ‘but I promise you when you walk into my godmother’s house it will be loose.’
‘That, of course, being the term
that best describes your normal choice of woman,’ Jenna said acidly, knowing that physically she could not best him, but determined not to be totally vanquished.
To her amazement he laughed.
‘Now there’s an old-fashioned turn of phrase,’ he mocked when he had finally quelled his amusement. ‘My godmother knows I appreciate beauty, whether it be beauty in a woman or in an inanimate object,’ he told her. ‘As I said, she’s an old lady who’s been nagging me to get married for at least the past ten years. Don’t try to hurt me through her, Jenna,’ he warned, ‘or I promise you you’ll wish you’d never been born. Where’s your case?’ he asked, indicating that as far as he was concerned the subject was closed.
‘There.’ Jenna had placed it by the door, and James picked it up. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she was not going to go with him after all, but what would that achieve? All the pleasure she had felt earlier in the work she had accomplished during the week was gone. Now she felt drained and, worse, irritated with herself as well as with him.
Some of her irritation vanished when she greeted Sarah. She was propped up in the back of the car and welcomed Jenna with obvious pleasure.
As he set the car in motion Jenna refused to look at James. She couldn’t bear to see the satisfaction in his eyes when he looked at her flowing hair.