Even if she metthe oneat some stage, her second marriage would always be that: second. She'd be a divorcee who'd sold out on romance.
But it was for a good cause, a great cause, and she couldn't lose sight of that.
"A honeymoon would add to the authenticity," he said, stating a fact she'd already contemplated and discarded.
It would be hard enough pretending they were married without going away with him on some romantic jaunt. She wasn't a complete fool. They shared an attraction. They might end up having sex. Scintillating, spectacular sex if that kiss had been a prelude, damn her impulsiveness.
However, sex to consummate the marriage was a far cry from a decadent few days away, probably in some posh hotel or lush surroundings, indulging their passion.
The honeymoon didn’t worry her as much as the aftermath. What would happen when they returned? Would they fall into a routine? Marriage with fringe benefits, without the emotional entanglements?
Sounded reasonable in theory. In practice, it would suck. She didn't want to get close to him, didn't want to risk complicating their business-deal marriage with sex. The guy's rigid self-control would ensure he remained emotionally distant, but could she remain indifferent to his charms?
She was renowned in her family for throwing herself into any project, committing one hundred per cent. Mentally, it made sense to commit to this marriage. Emotionally, she'd be a fool to consider it.
It would be so much easier to be like him. Closed off. Probably a learned response: ashamed of his jailbird dad, detached from people, putting up a tough-guy front.
Her mother had been like that. The quintessential matriarch who'd lost her husband far too young and had emotionally closed down because of it. Not that Mathilda had been a bad mum, she'd just been so focused onSeabornshe'd often had little energy left for her daughters. Sapphrie hadn't minded; she'd been Mum's protégé, groomed to take over.
And while Ruby preferred to fly under the radar, every now and then when she glimpsed Mathilda and Saph with their heads bent close, poring over catalogues, she'd wished her mum would acknowledge she was more than just a ditzy designer.
Cutting her out when it counted most proved it.
And it hurt, damn it, it hurt deep.
Her mother should've trusted her and told her the truth aboutSeabornbefore she died, and she never should’ve made Sapphire promise not to tell her.
She was more than an airhead who swanned through life playing with gems and dating easy-going creative guys like her, despite fostering that image, content not to assume too much responsibility.
Her determination to prove her family wrong drove her every day since Sapphire had been forced to confide in her before heading off to the health farm to recuperate.
It had driven her to propose to Jax in the first place.
She'd do whatever it took to saveSeabornand prove to everyone, particularly herself, she could do more than design pretty jewellery.
"Let's worry about the honeymoon later." Much later. Like never. "For now, we need to co-ordinate tasks."
She held her breath, expecting him to push the honeymoon issue, relieved when he slid out his phone instead.
"I'll take care of the marriage licence and register office." He started tapping out a to-do list. "What about witnesses? I can ask my manager Murray. Is there anyone you have?"
Her submerged bitterness surged again and she swallowed. In an ideal world, her sister would be beside her on the momentous day.
"Yeah, my cousin Opal."
"Okay." He paused, his thumb poised over the keypad. "Will your sister be there?"
She bristled, not wanting to discuss Sapphire's condition with a virtual stranger. A stranger she was about to marry. Sheesh.
"No."
He touched the back of her hand, and she carefully placed the latte glass on the saucer before clasping her hands in her lap.
She didn't want his sympathy. She wanted his cooperation in ensuring this wedding went as smoothly as possible so she could get back to the task of savingSeaborn.
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not really." She pointed at his phone. 'Type into that thing: "I'll take care of the wedding, leave the reception to Ruby".'
