by Jules Wake
‘Here goes,’ whispered Angela, giving Cassie and Jade one last squeeze.
The three of them stepped out into perfect wedding weather. The sky had cleared overnight and the sun shone against a brilliant blue backdrop, broken by occasional puffballs of a white clouds.
The journey took a scant five minutes and in no time at all Cassie passed through the church doors. The pews were already full, hats bobbing in anticipation as everyone turned to look at her. She looked down the aisle, feeling a touch self-conscious, but the attention quickly turned back to the film star at the front. With a sigh of relief, she followed the common gaze to find Richard and picked up her pace, her heels clicking on the worn stone slabs. He winked at her as she slipped into the pew next to him and he took her hand, pulling her to him to kiss her on the mouth in front of the whole congregation, as if it had been days rather than an hour since they’d seen each other. Behind them, Cassie heard a collective sigh. As she sank onto the wooden seat, she caught Phil’s eye as he peered uneasily over his shoulder from his position in front of the altar. He looked a little pale. His nervous smile lacked the usual wattage she’d become used to seeing since he’d moved in with Angela, as he fiddled with the yellow rose pinned to his morning suit. She gave him a thumbs-up, to let him know everything was fine and that the bride was in position, along with her best girl.
Phil’s October visit had ended up lasting through to November before he decamped back to France to collect the remainder of his clothes, dry-dock his boat and shut up his house for the rest of the winter. He’d proposed on Christmas Day and he and Angela planned on living in France and England around Jade’s school and, hopefully in the near future, university terms.
The organ’s triumphant notes swelled into the air and a frisson ran through the crowd as Angela took her first step into view and they craned their heads to see the dress. It could have been designed for Angela, even though Carrie knew that her practical sister had found it off the peg in a bridal shop on the high street in Tring. Simple and stylish, it suited her perfectly. The full but not too fussy skirt swayed with elegant fluidity as Angela glided down the aisle, her arm tucked through Jade’s and her eyes focused on Phil with a serene smile.
Tears welled up in Cassie’s eyes and she clung to Richard’s hand, her fingers laced through his as she leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body through the fine wool fabric of his suit. He glanced down at her and those oh-so-blue eyes held hers, his gaze intent with one silent message shimmering between them. They didn’t need the words, the concentrated look in his eyes said it all, making her heart swell so hard and fast, it might almost burst with the feeling. She squeezed his hand and edged closer to him, pressing her shoulder up against his arm. His thumb stroked hers, the gentle pressure reassuring, and she knew that his thoughts were in tandem with hers.
The music stopped, the congregation sat down as one and the service started, the vicar’s voice ringing out clear and authoritative in the high-raftered church. Angela and Phil’s responses were equally confident and strong, as they held each other’s gaze with solemn promise.
When they both said ‘I do’, Richard scooted closer so that they were thigh to thigh, their hands squeezing each other’s in silent communication.
‘You still sure?’ asked Richard, whispering in her ear. She nodded and gave him a beatific, happy smile. They’d discussed this. Whether or not to renew their wedding vows. Richard had been in complete agreement when she decided against it. Their wedding day, all those years ago, held a special place in both their memories and in her mind and heart that vivid emotion of sheer joy and crazy happiness was indelibly burned into place. It could never be eclipsed and neither of them wanted it to be. The informality of that day, the lack of fuss and drama, was a talisman and a juxtaposition to their current lifestyle, where parties, formal gatherings and dressing up played such a huge part and for most of the time held little meaning.
It had been a busy year, premieres, openings and awards events culminating in a never-to-be-forgotten evening at the Royal Opera House, where they both had to look excited and happy for Frank Jeffersen, who pipped Richard to the award for best actor and then, luckily, was able to let rip with genuine cheers of delight for Miranda, who apologised on stage, rather handsomely, for beating Carrie in the best new play category.
The play had been an enormous success, not just thanks to Richard’s name pulling attraction which secured full houses every night but also due to his rather brilliant (and, no, Cassie wasn’t the least bit biased, that’s what the critics said) performances.
As she and Richard rose when Angela and Phil smiled their way back down the aisle, Cassie’s foot nudged something on the floor.
‘What’s that?’ she asked, bending to look down.
‘Today’s disguise,’ said Richard, with a naughty grin, as he scooped up a chauffeur’s peaked cap. ‘I didn’t want to steal the limelight when I arrived.’
Cassie let out a gurgle of laughter. ‘Thank God it wasn’t the gangsta-rapper look you adopted last time we went shopping.’ She cringed remembering the white baggy track-suit and back-to-front baseball cap complete with gold chain he’d donned for a trip to Harvey Nicks to buy her outfit for today.
‘And you think you looked any better in your posh hooker kit?’ teased Richard, pinching her bottom, reminding her of the ridiculously skin-tight stretchy skirt she’d worn with gladiator heels and fishnet tights on the same shopping expedition. He gave her a hammy lewd wink, making her burst out laughing.
She nudged him in the ribs, trying to regain her decorum. They were in a church, after all.
‘I don’t remember you complaining too much when we got home.’ They hadn’t made the bedroom that afternoon, but that was par for the course.
‘I’ve got no complaints whatsoever. Life couldn’t be better.’ He gave her a gentle kiss on her cheek and twisted a finger through one of the loose curls around her face. ‘It’s just perfect,’ he paused, and then, with a lightning tug, pulled out the pins securing her sophisticated chignon. ‘Apart from that.’
She sighed and smiled up at him, her heart somersaulting at the intent expression on his face as her hair tumbled down. ‘I wondered how long it would last.’
‘It was a deliberate challenge and you know it.’ He tweaked the curl again.
They giggled together as they followed the rest of the congregation out of the church to the top of the steps. A light breeze lifted her hair, blowing across her face.
‘But it gives me an excuse to do this.’ With tender hands he brushed the dancing curls aside, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones as he lowered his head to kiss her. He’d done it a hundred times in the last year and it never failed to make her insides curl up in heated delight and he knew it. Some things between them had never changed and with a contented sigh, she sank into the kiss, knowing they never would.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My biggest thank you goes to the ever-sunny Charlotte Ledger for championing this book from day one and for her never-ending supply of enthusiasm and encouragement (truly awesome.)
Nearly as big thanks go to the fabulous Donna Ashcroft, Prosecco partner extraordinaire, who when the going gets tough, kicks my arse and pours me another glass. I’m also indebted to lovely Louise Wilding, my go-to Riviera expert, for local knowledge and tips on the locations of Ramatuelle, Gassin and St Tropez and Nicky Duffle, additional Riviera consultant, for the helicopter idea.
A big shout out to the real Phil Hillair-Brady for allowing me to use his name, which was his prize in a raffle held for the Alzheimers Society organised by fab friends Shane and Jenny O’Neil. Hugs and more thanks to my family Nick, Ellie, Matt, and dear friends Justine, Alison and Candy, for their endless support. They put up with erratic housekeeping and dodgy diary keeping when I’m writing … and never complain (or look bored when I tell them about the latest plot).
Special thanks to my dad and beloved step-mum, Tricia. You may well have been coerced into b
uying this by her in a bookshop somewhere (proud doesn’t begin to describe it). They share the delusion that I’m somehow brilliant. Long may it last.
A massive shout-out to the amazing, supportive organisation that is the Romantic Novelists’ Association, and all the wonderful friends I’ve made among its members.
Thank you to you for investing your hard-earned pennies in buying this book. I hope you enjoy it. I’m always thrilled and grateful when anyone takes the trouble to get in touch or leave a review. I promise you, it’s always appreciated.
And last, but not least, grateful thanks to the fantastic team at Avon, who’ve done so much work behind the scenes.
Such a summery escape you won’t need a holiday!
From sampling the delights of the Loire Valley to the breathtaking beauty of Lake Garda, join Jules Wake on a road trip you’ll never forget in this charming summer romance.
From sampling the delights of the Loire Valley to the breathtaking beauty of Lake Garda, join Jules Wake on a road trip you’ll never forget in this charming summer romance.
Order your copy here.
Jet off to Paris with Siena and Jason and experience the magic of the holiday season!
The gorgeous, Christmassy feel-good follow up to the Summer best-seller From Italy With Love.
Order your copy here.
Get away from it all with this perfect summer read!
From stunning Sardinia to breathtaking Corsica, follow the fate of Octavia Sheldon in this hilarious tale of female friendships, love and escape!
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Have you ever wanted to escape your humdrum life?
Escape to the Greek Islands with Victoria Connelly. For fans of Katie Fforde and Lucy Diamond, this heartwarming, romantic novel is the perfect escapist read!
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About the Author
Jules Wake’s earliest known declaration that she planned to be a writer came at the age of ten. Unfortunately the urge to actually get her backside into gear and write a book didn’t revisit her for quite some time after that.
After a twenty-year career in the glamorous world of PR, working on luxury brands, she switched professions to give her more time and energy to write. By day she works in a junior school and by night writes romantic comedy and happy-ever-after stories, which are the sort of books she’s always enjoyed reading.
You can follow Jules on Twitter @juleswake or visit her at www.juleswake.co.uk.
By the same author
From Italy With Love
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About the Publisher
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