Hot Basque: A French Summer Novel 2 Read Online Free PDF

couldn’t see an alternative. Caroline was her only sister ergo Caroline had to be the bridesmaid. She just hoped Caroline would have the nous to duck out of the hen party that Susie was organising for her. The last thing she needed was Holy Mother Caroline walking into the ladies room just as her friend was bent over the washbasin having a snort.
    She hauled herself up, padded through to the living room, mixed herself a large gin and tonic, padded back into the bedroom again. The photographs from the company handling the Acapulco end were spread out on her dressing table. It really did look fantastic, the sea was an impossible blue, the hotel was a dream. She’d spent hours on the internet and the phone last summer, checking out the most breathtaking venues, the most lavish hotels.
    So why was she beginning to feel ambivalent about the whole thing? She took a gulp of her drink. On the one hand she wanted it to happen, wanted the pure thrill of satisfaction on hearing the guests gasp with admiration as the music started and the bride appeared in her stunning dress, the light falling on her gleaming hair and golden limbs, a goddess from ancient times. She’d visualised the entire mise en scène, the bridal bower, the guest list straight out of Tatler, the goddess-figure stepping out on to the cliff top, veil fluttering in the light breeze, the guests all clapping wildly as she walked barefoot across the rose-petal scattered grass. She wanted the magazine spread, wanted to see the looks of envy on her former workmates at Klass. Especially Gloria, the cow.
    And of course Ma and Pa Courtenay nursing the baby in the front row and forking out for the lot.
    So why the niggling doubt? She needed another drink. Glass in hand she stared moodily at the Frankfurt skyline, trying to ignore the nasty whining little voice in her head saying ‘Are you sure? Really sure?’
    The first eighteen months after meeting Julian had been a social whirlwind. He was everything she wanted, rich, good-looking, impeccable taste, aristocratic family background. A status symbol, ready to fall at her feet. She’d got carried away, intoxicated at the idea that she had this man, this older man, wrapped round her little finger, ready to do anything for her. She’d told herself that the sex was just sex, she’d had enough experience to know that most men were the same, new and exciting at the beginning, then, as habit set in, the excitement wore off, the sex became routine. So why was it bothering her now? Her love life was no better than she’d expected. And during her pregnancy and in the weeks that followed Joshua’s birth, the last thing she’d wanted was a man heaving himself on top of her and grunting and drooling in her ear. In any case, Julian, once an enthusiastic lover, was so tired these days he quickly gave up attempts to initiate sex, preferring to turn over and fall asleep as soon as the lights were out.
    She was practical, she was realistic, she’d decided on her priorities long ago when she was still a teenager. It was like the mantra for buying property, only three things to remember: Location, Location Location. Her three-thing mantra for acquiring a husband was: Money, Situation, and Prestige.
    Those were the essentials. If hubby then turned out to be a hotshot in bed, well that would be an unexpected benefit.
    So why the cold feet? What difference did it make if she went ahead with the wedding as planned? If things didn’t work out later, for one reason or another, she could look around, see if there were better offers on the market. There were always other options, always ways out. She was twenty-five, beautiful, sexy, provocative, charming. In another year or two, if she wasn’t satisfied with her lot, she would find a way to move on. Loads of women did it. There were other Julians out there. With added benefits. Higher up the ladder.
    The problem was the timing. As things stood, she may not have a year or two; the next few