He caught her gaze. “I want you to be sure.”
The feeling whooshed through her again. The one that told her he was looking out for her because he was a nice guy. He might not love her. He might not even know her well enough to like her. But he was a nice enough guy that he wanted her to be happy.
“Okay.”
Even as she said that, the big double doors of Dominic’s apartment opened. “Ginny?”
Ginny’s head snapped up. “Mom?”
She blinked as she saw her tall, slim mother race into the sitting room from the echoing foyer. Wearing a tan pantsuit that the king probably would have loved for its dignity, she ran over to Ginny.
Ginny rose and was enfolded into her mom’s hug. After a long squeeze, she said, “Let me look at you!”
“Why aren’t you in school?”
“Dom called. He said you needed help with your gown.”
Her throat closed and tears welled in her eyes. This act of Dominic’s was a little more difficult to call the actions of a nice guy trying to keep her happy. Having her mother flown to Xaviera was so kind it made her chest tight.
“I don’t exactly need help. I just love your opinions.”
Her mom said, “Even better.” Then she faced Joshua and Sally, both of whom had risen. “And you must be Sally and Joshua.”
Sally bowed slightly. Joshua said, “She’s actually very clear about what she wants. I think she just needs your reassurance.”
“Joshua, Sally, this is my mother, Rose Jones.”
Ginny’s mom smiled broadly. Her pretty blond hair had a hint of pink in it, because—well, she was a Texas girl, who’d grown up dancing to the Beach Boys and riding horses, and that crazy part of her had no intention of dying. “Let me see the designers and the dresses.”
Joshua immediately handed over the photo array panels, but Ginny stepped away and slid around to the back of the couch where Dom stood.
He raised his eyebrows in question. “What?”
“You told my mom I needed help?”
He shook his head. “No, I called her and said I wanted you to be happy planning this wedding.”
The sweetness of the gesture filled her heart. “I would have been okay.”
“And the wedding would have looked fake.”
This time the reminder that he didn’t want the wedding to look fake didn’t go through her like a knife. It was their deal. He’d always been up-front about their deal.
The crazy feeling she got around nice Dom morphed into something soft and happy. “We’re going to have a beautiful wedding.”
He smiled. “Yes, we are.”
The air between them changed. For a few seconds, she debated springing to her tiptoes and hugging him, but that wasn’t really acceptable, either.
Holding his gaze, she took a step back, then another, suddenly realizing why she kept getting odd nudges. After decades of surface relationships that she’d ended before she even knew the guy she was involved with, she’d managed to never really know anyone, never get beyond platitudes. But planning a fake wedding? Living in the same apartment with Dom? Coconspirators to protect their child? She was getting to know him. And she liked him. A lot more than she’d ever liked any man.
And he’d warned her not to spin a fairy-tale fantasy because he didn’t want a marriage with emotion.
CHAPTER SIX
TWO DAYS LATER, Dom strode down the marble-floored hall to the double doors of his apartment. Since Rose had arrived, his home had become like a beehive. Where Ginny might be shy about creating a wardrobe, Rose had taken to the task as if she was born to it. Designers had been called in. Dresses and pants arrived for fittings. Two styles of wedding dresses had been chosen and Alfredo Larenzo, an Italian designer, had been hired to create them.
With a wince, he partially opened one of the two double doors, sticking his head in far enough to see into the living room. Which was, mercifully, empty. For a second, he hoped that Ginny and her mom had gone out for lunch, but his chest pinched. Since Rose had arrived, he’d also barely seen Ginny.
Not that he missed her. He didn’t really know her. They were in a fake situation. There was nothing to miss. The thing was, he liked seeing her. Usually, she was funny. After four-hour sessions in parliament, funny was welcome. So he didn’t miss her. He missed her silliness.
Comfortable with that assessment, he walked past the double sofas, over to the bar. When he turned to pour his Scotch, he saw the door to Ginny’s suite door was open. And there she stood, in little pink panties and a pink lace bra. A short man wearing spectacles and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows had a tape measure around her hips. Her mom stood with her back to the door, obviously supervising.