Jane felt his pain, physically hurting for the man. She wanted to reach across the desk, take his dear face in her hands and tell him that everything would be fine if only he’d trust her…
Keeping her voice brisk and businesslike, she said, ‘Don’t underrate yourself, Mark. You can offer a lovely home, a comfortable life, friendship. A lot of women would be happy to settle for that.’
‘Would they? And how would I know they weren’t just doing it for the money? That a year on this “warm, caring non-smoker with a good sense of humour” wouldn’t be suing for a divorce and a big fat chunk of my assets?’
He’d spotted the flaw in her suggestion. She’d been sure he would. Well, he’d look for any excuse to evade the issue.
‘I think Shuli could be relied upon to see off any pretenders.’
That, at least, raised a smile. ‘Yes, I suppose she would.’ He sat back, regarded her across the broad desk. ‘You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?’
‘Of course. I wouldn’t come to you with some half-baked plan.’
‘No.’ He continued to regard her thoughtfully. ‘Tell me, Jane, would you settle for a platonic marriage?’
This was it. The opening she’d been waiting for. She swallowed. ‘Are you asking me?’ she replied, her voice perfectly calm even while her heart was pounding loud enough to be heard in the next county.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I want to know if you’d marry a man who wasn’t in love with you?’
She shook her head. More hair slithered from the grip of pins unequal to the task. ‘No, Mark. That wasn’t my question.’ He frowned, and she very nearly lost her nerve. It wasn’t too late to bottle out…‘My question was…are you asking me if I’d marry you?’
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