Weddings by De Wilde
Since the turn of the century the elegant and fashionable De Wilde stores have helped brides around the world turn the fantasy of their “Special Day” into reality. But now the store and three generations of family are torn apart by the divorce of Grace and Jeffrey DeWilde. As family members face new challenges and loves — and a long-secret mystery — the lives of Grace and Jeffrey intermingle with store employees, friends and relatives in this fast-paced, glamorous, internationally set series. For weddings and romance, glamour and fun-filled entertainment, enter the world of DeWilde...
Twelve remarkable books, coming to you once a month, beginning in April 1996
Weddings by DeWilde begins with
Shattered Vows
by Jasmine Cresswell
Here’s a preview!
“SPEND THE NIGHT with me, Lianne.”
No softening lies, no beguiling promises, just the curt offer of a night of sex. She closed her eyes, shutting out temptation. She had never expected to feel this sort of relentless drive for sexual fulfillment, so she had no mechanisms in place for coping with it. “No.” The one-word denial was all she could manage to articulate.
His grip on her arms tightened as if he might refuse to accept her answer. Shockingly, she wished for a split second that he would ignore her rejection and simply bundle her into the car and drive her straight to his flat, refusing to take no for an answer. All the pleasures of mindless sex, with none of the responsibility. For a couple of seconds he neither moved nor spoke. Then he released her, turning abruptly to open the door on the passenger side of his Jaguar. “I’ll drive you home,” he said, his voice hard and flat. “Get in.”
The traffic was heavy, and the rain started again as an annoying drizzle that distorted depth perception made driving difficult, but Lianne didn’t fool herself that the silence inside the car was caused by the driving conditions. The air around them crackled and sparked with their thwarted desire. Her body was still on fire. Why didn’t Gabe say something? she thought, feeling aggrieved.
Perhaps because he was finding it as difficult as she was to think of something appropriate to say. He was thirty years old, long past the stage of needing to bed a woman just so he could record another sexual conquest in his little black book. He’d spent five months dating Julia, which suggested he was a man who valued friendship as an element in his relationships with women. Since he didn’t seem to like her very much, he was probably as embarrassed as she was by the stupid, inexplicable intensity of their physical response to each other.
“Maybe we should just set aside a weekend to have wild, uninterrupted sex,” she said, thinking aloud. “Maybe that way we’d get whatever it is we feel for each other out of our systems and be able to move on with the rest of our lives.”
His mouth quirked into a rueful smile. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”
“Why? Because you’re the man? Are you sexist enough to believe that women don’t have sexual urges? I’m just as aware of what’s going on between us as you are, Gabe. Am I supposed to pretend I haven’t noticed that we practically ignite whenever we touch? And that we have nothing much in common except mutual lust—and a good friend we betrayed?”