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Engaged To Her Ravensdale Enemy
MELANIE MILBURNE


In bed with her nemesis…When Jasmine Connolly’s third engagement is broken off, she decides to make her man jealous by enlisting the help of her enemy – playboy Jake Ravensdale! Jasmine might never have forgiven him for his rejection years ago, but the heartless Lothario is the perfect candidate for her plan.As tensions build, the line between love and hate blurs increasingly…until it’s teetering on the brink of explosion! Jasmine might be wearing Jake’s ring, but she can’t let go of the hurt he once caused her. Because if she does what’s to stop her from falling prey to the Ravensdale playboy’s charms…?Discover more at www.millsandboon.co.uk/melaniemilburne









‘I don’t remember giving you permission to touch me,’ Jasmine said.


Instead of releasing her Jake slid his fingers down to the bones of her wrists and encircled them like a pair of gentle handcuffs.

Jasmine tested his hold, but all that did was take him with her to the door frame, which was just an inch or so behind her. She pressed her back against it for stability—because right then her legs weren’t doing such a great job of holding her upright. He was now so close she could see the individual pinpricks of stubble along his jaw and around his nose and mouth. She could feel their breath intermingling. His muscle-packed thighs were within a hair’s breadth of hers, his booted feet toe to toe with her bare ones.

‘Wh-what are you doing?’ she said, in a voice she barely recognised as her own.

His eyes went to her mouth, lingering there for endless heart-stopping seconds. ‘Ever wondered what would happen if we kissed?’

Like just about every day for the last seven years.

‘You’d get your face slapped, that’s what.’

A smile hitched up one side of his mouth.

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought.’




The Ravensdale Scandals (#ulink_a9582769-5e5c-5871-b942-4494598da914)


Scandal is this family’s middle name!

With notoriously famous parents, the Ravensdale children grew up in the limelight. But nothing could have prepared them for this latest scandal… the revelation of a Ravensdale love-child!

London’s most eligible siblings find themselves in the eye of their own paparazzi storm. They’re determined to fight back—they just never factored in falling in love too…!

Find out what happens in Julius Ravensdale’s story

Ravensdale’s Defiant Captive December 2015

Miranda Ravensdale’s story

Awakening the Ravensdale Heiress January 2016

Jake Ravensdale’s story

Engaged to the Ravensdale Enemy April 2016

And finally watch out for Katherine’s story

The Most Scandalous Ravensdale May 2016


Engaged to Her

Ravensdale

Enemy

Melanie Milburne






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


An avid romance reader, MELANIE MILBURNE loves writing the books that gave her so much joy as she was busy getting married to her own hero and raising a family. Now a USA TODAY bestselling author, she has won several awards—including the Australian Readers’ Association most popular category/series romance in 2008 and the prestigious Romance Writers of Australia R*BY award in 2011.

She loves to hear from readers!

MelanieMilburne.com.au (http://MelanieMilburne.com.au)Facebook.com/Melanie.Milburne (http://Facebook.com/Melanie.Milburne) Twitter @MelanieMilburn1 (http://www.twitter.com/MelanieMilburn1)


To Monique Scott. You left an indelible mark on our family, enriching our lives in so many fabulous ways. You are the daughter I never had. You are the most amazing young woman, a gorgeous mother, and a wonderful friend. Love always. xxxx


Contents

Cover (#u94b14cd0-198b-5f82-9fe3-91f7abc3af29)

Introduction (#ua3f1fb9b-2215-5ff6-8560-ec915c4339bd)

The Ravensdale Scandals (#ue95ac25f-cabc-5d94-b022-a524e424411a)

Title Page (#u47279059-0cba-5258-84e0-ffc0284e9d17)

About the Author (#ud80292aa-2897-54ff-849a-487b3e54162e)

Dedication (#uc1a44f3d-7c7f-5ab4-9e0b-aef040d7266a)

CHAPTER ONE (#ueaced092-1c84-5d09-8fb0-a7d933cb0725)

CHAPTER TWO (#uc4f37044-6082-5e87-9b3c-c0789a67abf7)

CHAPTER THREE (#u93d3774e-7c74-5e14-898d-17b5068c14c4)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u13657025-7c2c-526b-8309-1f751c01833c)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_8d989d51-0363-5321-8ff0-ebf0d872734a)

IT WASN’T GIVING back the engagement ring Jasmine Connolly was most worried about. She had two more sitting in her jewellery box in her flat in Mayfair above her bridal-wear shop. It was the feeling of being rejected. Again. What was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she good enough? She hadn’t been good enough for her mother. Why did the people she cared about always leave her?

But that wasn’t all that had her stomach knotting in panic. It was attending the winter wedding expo next weekend in the Cotswolds as a singleton. How could she front up sans fiancé? She might as well turn up at the plush hotel she’d booked months and months ago with ‘loser’ written on her forehead. She had so looked forward to that expo. After a lot of arm-twisting she had secured a slot in the fashion parade. It was her first catwalk show and it had the potential to lead to bigger and more important ones.

But it wasn’t just about designing wedding gowns. She loved everything to do with weddings. The commitment to have someone love you for the rest of your life, not just while it was convenient or while it suited them. Love was supposed to be for ever. Every time she designed a gown she stitched her own hopes into it. What if she never got to wear one of her own gowns? What sort of cruel irony would that be?

She glanced at her empty ring finger where it was gripping the steering wheel. She wished she’d thought to shove on one of her spares just so she didn’t have to explain to everyone that she was—to quote Myles—‘taking a break’.

It didn’t matter how he termed it, it all meant the same thing as far as Jaz was concerned. She was dumped. Jilted. Cast off. Single.

Forget about three times a bridesmaid, she thought sourly. What did it mean if you were three times a dumped fiancée?

It meant you sucked at relationships. Really sucked.

Jaz parked the car in her usual spot at Ravensdene, the family pile of the theatre-royalty family where she had grown up as the gardener’s daughter and surrogate sister to Miranda Ravensdale and her older twin brothers, Julius and Jake.

Miranda had just got herself engaged. Damn. It.

Jaz was thrilled for her best mate. Of course she was. Miranda and Leandro Allegretti were perfect for each other. No one deserved a happy ending more than those two.

But why couldn’t she have hers?

Jaz put her head down against the steering wheel and banged it three times. Argh!

There was a sound of a car growling as it came up the long driveway. Jaz straightened and quickly got out of her car and watched as the Italian sports car ate up the gravel with its spinning tyres, spitting out what it didn’t want in spraying arcs of flying stones. It felt like a fistful of those stones were clenched between her back molars as the car came to a dusty standstill next to hers.

Jacques, otherwise known as Jake, Ravensdale unfolded his tall, athletic frame from behind the wheel with animal grace. Jaz knew it was Jake and not his identical twin brother Julius because she had always been able to tell them apart. Not everyone could, but she could. She felt the difference in her body. Her body got all tingly and feverish, restless and antsy, whenever Jake was around. It was as if her body picked up a signal from his and it completely scrambled her motherboard.

His black hair was sexily tousled and wind-blown. Another reason to hate him, because she knew if she had just driven with the top down in that chilly October breeze her hair would have looked like a tangled fishing net. He was dressed casually because everything about Jake was casual, including his relationships—if you could call hook-ups and one-night stands relationships.

His dark-blue gaze was hidden behind designer aviator lenses but she could see a deep frown grooved into his forehead. At least it was a change from his stock-standard mocking smile. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he said.

Jaz felt another millimetre go down on her molars. ‘Nice to see you too, Jake,’ she said with a sugar-sweet smile. ‘How’s things? Had that personality transplant yet?’

He took off his sunglasses and continued to frown at her. ‘You’re supposed to be in London.’

Jaz gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look. ‘Am I?’

‘I checked with Miranda,’ he said, clicking shut the driver’s door with his foot. ‘She said you were going to a party with Tim at his parents’ house.’

‘It’s Myles,’ she said. ‘Tim was my...erm...other one.’

The corner of his mouth lifted. ‘Number one or number two?’

It was extremely annoying how he made her ex-fiancés sound like bodily waste products, Jaz thought. Not that she didn’t think of them that way too these days, but still. ‘Number two,’ she said. ‘Lincoln was my first.’

Jake turned to pop open the boot of the car with his remote device. ‘So where’s lover-boy Myles?’ he said. ‘Is he planning on joining you?’

Jaz knew she shouldn’t be looking at the way Jake’s dark-blue denim jeans clung to his taut behind as he bent forward to get his overnight bag but what was a girl to do? He was built like an Olympic athlete. Lean and tanned with muscles in all the right places and in places where her exes didn’t have them and never would. He was fantasy fodder. Ever since her hormones had been old enough to take notice, that was exactly what they had done. Which was damned inconvenient, since she absolutely, unreservedly loathed him. ‘No...erm...he’s staying in town to do some work,’ she said. ‘After the party, I mean.’

Jake turned back to look at her with a glinting smile. ‘You’ve broken up.’

Jaz hated it that he didn’t pose it as a question but as if it were a given. Another Jasmine Connolly engagement bites the dust. Not that she was going to admit it to him of all people. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said. ‘What on earth makes you think that? Just because I chose to spend the weekend down here while I work on Holly’s dress instead of partying in town doesn’t mean I’m—’

‘Where’s that flashy rock you’ve been brandishing about?’

Jaz used her left hand to flick her hair back over her shoulder in what she hoped was a casual manner. ‘It’s in London. I don’t like wearing it when I’m working.’ Which at least wasn’t a complete lie. The ring was in London, safely in Myles’ family jewellery vault. It miffed her Myles hadn’t let her keep it. Not even for a few days till she got used to the idea of ‘taking a break’. So what if it was a family heirloom? He had plenty of money. He could buy any number of rings. But no, he had to have it back, which meant she was walking around with a naked ring finger because she’d been too upset, angry and hurt to grab one of her other rings on her way out of the flat.

How galling if Jake were the first person to find out she had jinxed another relationship. How could she bear it? He wouldn’t be sympathetic and consoling. He would roll about the floor laughing, saying, I told you so.

Jake hooked his finger through the loop on the collar of his Italian leather jacket and slung it over his shoulder. ‘You’d better make yourself scarce if you’re not in the mood for a party. I have guests arriving in an hour.’

Jaz’s stomach dropped like a lift with snapped cables. ‘Guests?’

His shoes crunched over the gravel as he strode towards the grand old Elizabethan mansion’s entrance. ‘Yep, the ones that eat and drink and don’t sleep.’

She followed him into the house feeling like a teacup Chihuahua trying to keep up with an alpha wolf. ‘What the hell? How many guests? Are they all female?’

He flashed her a white-toothed smile. ‘You know me so well.’

Jaz could feel herself lighting up with lava-hot heat. Most of it burned in her cheeks at the thought of having to listen to him rocking on with a harem of his Hollywood wannabes. Unlike his identical twin brother Julius and his younger sister Miranda, who did everything they could to distance themselves from their parents’ fame, Jake cashed in on it. Big-time. He was shameless in how he exploited it for all it was worth—which wasn’t much, in Jaz’s opinion. She had been the victim of his exploitative tactics when she’d been sixteen on the night of one of his parents’ legendary New Year’s Eve parties. He had led her on to believe he was serious about...

But she never thought about that night in his bedroom. Never.

‘You can’t have a party,’ Jaz said as she followed him into the house. ‘Mrs Eggleston’s away. She’s visiting her sister in Bath.’

‘Which is why I’ve chosen this weekend,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve organised the catering.’

Jaz folded her arms and glowered at him. ‘And I bet I know what’s on the menu.’ Him. Being licked and ego-stroked by a bevy of bimbo airheads who drank champagne like it was water and ate nothing in case they put on an ounce. She only hoped they were all of age.

‘You want to join us?’

Jaz jerked her chin back against her neck and made a scoffing noise. ‘Are you out of your mind? I couldn’t think of anything worse than watching a bunch of wannabe starlets get taken in by your particular version of charm. I’d rather chew razor blades.’

He shrugged one of his broad shoulders as if he didn’t care either way. ‘No skin off my nose.’

Jaz thought she would like to scratch every bit of skin off that arrogant nose. She hadn’t been alone with him in years. There had always been other members of his family around whenever they’d come to Ravensdene. Why hadn’t Eggles told her he would be here? Mrs Eggleston, the long-time housekeeper, knew how much Jaz hated Jake.

Everyone knew it. The feud between them had gone on for seven years. The air crackled with static electricity when they were in the same room even if there were crowds of other people around. The antagonism she felt towards Jake had grown exponentially every year. He had a habit of looking at her a certain way, as if he was thinking back to that night in his room when she had made the biggest fool of herself. His dark-blue eyes would take on a mocking gleam as if he could remember every inch of her body where it had been lying waiting for him in his bed in nothing but her underwear.

She gave a mental cringe. Yes, her underwear. What had she been thinking? Why had she fallen for it? Why hadn’t she realised he’d been playing her for a fool? The humiliation he had subjected her to, the shame, the embarrassment of being hauled out of his bed in front of his... Grrhh! She would not think about it.

She. Would. Not.

Jaz’s father wasn’t even here to referee. He was away on a cruise of the Greek Islands with his new wife. Her father didn’t belong to Jaz any more—not that he ever had. His work had always been more important than her. How could a garden, even one as big as the one at Ravensdene, be more important than his only child? But no, now he belonged to Angela.

Going back to London was out of the question. Jaz wasn’t ready to announce the pause on her engagement. Not yet. Not until she knew for sure it was over. Not even to Miranda. Not while there was a slither of hope. All she had to do was make Myles see what he was missing out on. She was his soul mate. Of course she was. Everybody said so. Well, maybe not everybody, but she didn’t need everyone’s approval. Not even his parents’ approval, which was a good thing, considering they didn’t like her. But then, they were horrid toffee-nosed snobs and she didn’t like them either.

Jaz did everything for Myles. She cooked, she cleaned, she organised his social calendar. She turned her timetable upside down and inside out so she could be available for him. She even had sex with him when she didn’t feel like it. Which was more often than not, for some strange reason. Was that why Myles wanted a break? Because she wasn’t sexually assertive enough? Not raunchy enough? She could do raunchy. She could wear dress-up costumes and play games. She would hate it but if it won him back she would do it. Other men found her attractive. Sure they did.

She was fighting off men all the time. She wasn’t vain but she knew she had the package: the looks, the figure, the face and the hair. And she was whip-smart. She had her own bridal design company and she was not quite twenty-four.

Sure, she’d had a bit of help from Jake’s parents, Richard and Elisabetta Ravensdale, in setting up. In fact, if it hadn’t been for them, she wouldn’t have had the brilliant education she’d had. They had stepped in when her mother had left her at Ravensdene on an access visit when she was eight and had never returned.

Not that it bothered Jaz that her mother hadn’t come back for her. Not really. She was mightily relieved she hadn’t had to go back to that cramped and mouldy, rat-infested flat in Brixton where the neighbours fought harder than the feral cats living near the garbage collection point. It was the principle of the thing that was the issue. Being left like a package on a doorstep wasn’t exactly how one expected to be treated as a young child. But still, living at the Elizabethan mansion Ravensdene in Buckinghamshire had been much preferable. It was like being at a country spa resort with acres of verdant fields, dark, shady woods and a river meandering through the property like a silver ribbon.

This was home and the Ravensdales were family.

Well, apart from Jake, of course.

* * *

Jake tossed the bag on his bed and let out a filthy curse. What the hell was Jasmine Connolly doing here? He had made sure the place was empty for the weekend. He had a plan and Jasmine wasn’t part of it. He did everything he could to avoid her. But when he couldn’t he did everything he could to annoy her. He got a kick out of seeing her clench her teeth and flash those grey-blue eyes at him like tongues of flame. She was a pain in the backside but he wasn’t going to let her dictate what he could and couldn’t do. This was his family home, not hers. She might have benefited from being raised with his kid sister Miranda but she was still the gardener’s daughter.

Jaz had been intent on marrying up since she’d been a kid. At sixteen she’d had her sights on him. On him! What a joke. He was ten years older than her; marriage hadn’t been on his radar then and it wasn’t on it now. It wasn’t even in his vocabulary.

Jaz did nothing but think about marriage. Her whole life revolved around it. She was a good designer, he had to give her that, but it surely wasn’t healthy to be so obsessed with the idea of marriage? Forty per cent of marriages ended in divorce—his parents’ being a case in point. After his father’s love-child scandal broke a month ago, it had looked like they were going to have a second one. The couple had remarried after their first divorce, and if another was on the way he only hoped it wouldn’t be as acrimonious and publicly cringe-worthy as their last.

His phone beeped with an incoming message and he swore again when he checked his screen. Twenty-seven text messages and fourteen missed calls from Emma Madden. He had blocked her number but she must have borrowed someone else’s phone. He knew if he checked his spam folder there would be just as many emails with photos of the girl’s assets. Didn’t that silly little teenager go to school? Where were her parents? Why weren’t they monitoring her phone and online activity?

He was sick to the back teeth with teenaged girls with crushes. Jasmine had started it with her outrageous little stunt seven years ago. He’d had the last word on that. But this was a new era and Emma Madden wasn’t the least put off by his efforts to shake her off. He’d tried being patient. He’d tried being polite. What was he supposed to do? The fifteen-year-old was like a leech, clinging on for all she was worth. He was being stalked. By a teenager! Sending him presents at work. Turning up at his favourite haunts, at the gym, at a business lunch, which was damned embarrassing. He’d had his work cut out trying to get his client to believe he wasn’t doing a teenager. He might be a playboy but he had some standards and keeping away from underage girls was one of them.

Jake turned his phone to silent and tossed it next to his bag on the bed. He walked over to the window to look at the fields surrounding the country estate. Autumn was one of his favourite times at Ravensdene. The leaves on the deciduous trees in the garden were in their final stages of turning and the air was sharp and fresh with the promise of winter around the corner. As soon as his guests arrived he would light the fire in the sitting room, put on some music, pour the champagne, party on and post heaps of photos on social media so Emma Madden got the message.

Finally.


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_30f24590-f5f1-5501-931c-e395be5e9e53)

THE CARS STARTED arriving just as Jaz got comfortable in the smaller sitting room where she had set up her workstation. She had to hand-sew the French lace on Julius’s fiancée Holly’s dress, which would take hours. But she was happiest when she was working on one of her designs. She outsourced some of the basic cutting and sewing of fabric but when it came to the details she did it all by hand. It gave her designs that signature Jasmine Connolly touch. Every stitch or every crystal, pearl or bead she sewed on to a gown made her feel proud of what she had achieved. As a child she had sat on the floor in this very sitting room surrounded by butcher’s paper or tissue wrap and Miranda as a willing, if not long-suffering, model. Jaz had dreamed of success. Success that would transport her far away from her status as the unwanted daughter of a barmaid who turned tricks to feed her drug and alcohol habit.

The sound of car doors slamming, giggling women and high heels tottering on gravel made Jaz’s teeth grind together like tectonic plates. At this rate she was going to be down to her gums. But no way was she going back to town until the weekend was over. Jake could party all he liked. She was not being told what to do. Besides, she knew it would annoy him to have her here. He might have acted all cool and casual about it but she knew him well enough to know he would be spitting chips about it privately.

Jaz put down her sewing and carefully covered it with the satin wrapping sheet she had brought with her. This she had to see. What sort of women had he got to come? He had a thing for busty blondes. Such a cliché but that was Jake. He was shallow. He lived life in the fast lane and didn’t stay in one place long enough to put down roots. He surrounded himself with showgirls and starlets who used him as much as he used them.

It was nauseating.

Jake was standing in the great hall surrounded by ten or so young women—all blonde—who were dressed in skimpy cocktail wear and vertiginous heels. Jaz leaned against the doorjamb with her arms folded, watching as each girl kissed him in greeting. One even ruffled his hair and another rubbed her breasts—which Jaz could tell were fake—against his upper arm.

He caught Jaz’s eye and his mouth slanted in a mocking smile. ‘Ah, here’s the fun police. Ladies, this is the gardener’s daughter, Jasmine.’

Jaz gave him an ‘I’ll get you for that later’ look before she addressed the young women. ‘Do your parents know where you all are?’ she said.

Jake’s brows shot together in a brooding scowl. ‘Knock it off, Jasmine.’

Jaz smiled at him with saccharine sweetness. ‘Just checking you haven’t sneaked in a minor or two.’

Twin streaks of dull colour rode high along his aristocratic cheekbones and his mouth flattened until it was a bloodless line of white. A frisson of excitement coursed through her to have riled him enough to show a crack in his ‘too cool for school’ façade. Jaz was the only person who could do that to him. He sailed through life with that easy smile and that ‘anything goes’ attitude but pitted against her he rippled with latent anger. She wondered how far she could push him. Would he touch her? He hadn’t come anywhere near her for seven years. When the family got together for Christmas or birthdays, or whatever, he never greeted her. He never hugged or kissed her on the cheek as he did to Miranda or his mother. He avoided Jaz like she was carrying some deadly disease, which was fine by her. She didn’t want to touch him either.

But, instead of responding, Jake moved past her as if she was invisible and directed the women to the formal sitting room. ‘In here, ladies,’ he said. ‘The party’s about to begin.’

Jaz wanted to puke as the women followed him as though he were the Pied Piper. Couldn’t they see how they were being used to feed his ego? He would ply them with expensive champagne or mix them exotic cocktails and tell them amusing anecdotes about his famous parents and their Hollywood and London theatre friends. Those he wouldn’t bother sleeping with he would toss out by two or three in the morning. The one—or two or three, according to the tabloids—he slept with would be sent home once the deed was done. They would never get a follow-up call from him. It was a rare woman who got two nights with Jake Ravensdale. Jaz couldn’t remember the last one.

The doorbell sounded behind her. She let out a weary sigh and turned to open it.

‘I’ll get that,’ Jake said, striding back into the great hall from the sitting room.

Jaz stood to one side and curled her lip at him. ‘Ten women not enough for you, Jake?’

He gave her a dismissive look and opened the door. But the smile of greeting dropped from his face as if he had been slapped. ‘Emma...’ His throat moved up and down. ‘What? Why? How did you find me?’ The words came spilling out in a way Jaz had never seen before. He looked agitated. Seriously agitated.

‘I had to see you,’ the girl said with big, lost waif, shimmering eyes and a trembling bottom lip. ‘I just had to.’

And she was indeed a girl, Jaz noted. Not yet out of her teens. At that awkward age when one foot was in girlhood and the other in adulthood, a precarious position, and one when lots of silly mistakes that could last a lifetime could be made. Jaz knew it all too well. Hadn’t she tried to straddle that great big divide, with devastating consequences?

‘How’d you get here?’ Jake’s voice had switched from shocked to curt.

‘I caught a cab.’

His brows locked together. ‘All the way from London?’

‘No,’ Emma said. ‘From the station in the village.’

Poor little kid, Jaz thought. She remembered looking at Jake exactly like that, as if he was some demigod and she’d been sent to this earth solely to worship him. It was cruel to watch knowing all the thoughts that were going through that young head. Teenage love could be so intense, so consuming and incredibly irrational. The poor kid was in the throes of a heady infatuation, travelling all this way in the hope of a little bit of attention from a man who clearly didn’t want to give her the time of day. Jake was here partying with a bunch of women and Emma thought she could be one of them. What a little innocent.

Jaz couldn’t stand by and watch history repeat itself. What if Emma was so upset she did something she would always regret, like she had done? There had to be a way to let the kid down in such a way that would ease the hurt of rejection. But brandishing a bunch of party girls in Emma’s face was not the way to do it.

‘Why don’t you come in and I’ll—?’ Jaz began.

‘Stay out of it, Jasmine,’ Jake snapped. ‘I’ll deal with this.’ He turned back to the girl. ‘You have to leave. Now. I’ll call you a cab but you have to go home. Understand?’

Emma’s eyes watered some more. ‘But I can’t go home. My mother thinks I’m staying with a friend. I’ll get in heaps of trouble. I’ll be grounded for the rest of my life.’

‘And so you damn well should be,’ Jake growled.

‘Maybe I could help,’ Jaz said and held out her hand to the girl. ‘I’m Jaz. I’m Jake’s fiancée.’

There was a stunned silence.

Jake went statue-still beside Jaz. Emma looked at her with a blank stare. But then her cheeks pooled with crimson colour. ‘Oh... I—I didn’t realise,’ she stammered. ‘I thought Jake was still single otherwise I would never have—’

‘It’s fine, sweetie,’ Jaz said. ‘I totally understand and I’m not the least bit offended. We’ve been keeping our relationship a secret, haven’t we, darling?’ She gave Jake a bright smile while surreptitiously jabbing him in the ribs.

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish that had suddenly found itself flapping on the carpet instead of swimming safely in its fishbowl. But then he seemed to come back into himself and stretched his lips into one of his charming smiles. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘That’s right. A secret. I only just asked her a couple of minutes ago. That’s why we’re...er...celebrating.’

‘Are you coming, Jakey?’ A clearly tipsy blonde came tottering out into the hall carrying a bottle of champagne in one hand and a glass in the other.

Jaz took Emma by the arm and led her away to the kitchen, jerking her head towards Jake in a non-verbal signal to get control of his guest. ‘That’s one of the bridesmaids,’ she said. ‘Can’t handle her drink. I’m seriously thinking of dumping her for someone else. I don’t want her to spoil the wedding photos. Can you imagine?’

Emma chewed at her bottom lip. ‘I guess it kind of makes sense...’

‘What does?’

‘You and Jake.’

Jaz pulled out a kitchen stool and patted it. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Have a seat while I make you a hot chocolate—or would you prefer tea or coffee?’

‘Um...hot chocolate would be lovely.’

Jaz got the feeling Emma had been about to ask for coffee in order to appear more sophisticated. It reminded her of all the times when she’d drunk vile-tasting cocktails in order to fit in. She made the frothiest hot chocolate she could and handed it to the young girl. ‘Here you go.’

Emma cupped her hands around the mug like a child. ‘Are you sure you’re not angry at me turning up like this? I had no idea Jake was serious about anyone. There’s been nothing in the press or anything.’

‘No, of course not,’ Jaz said. ‘You weren’t to know.’ I didn’t know myself until five minutes ago. ‘We haven’t officially announced it yet. We wanted to have some time to ourselves before the media circus begins.’ And it would once the news got out. Whoopee doo! If this didn’t get Myles’ attention, nothing would.

‘You’re the gardener’s daughter,’ Emma said. ‘I read about you in one of the magazines at the hairdresser’s. There was an article about Jake’s father’s love-child Katherine Winwood and there were pictures of you. You’ve known Jake all your life.’

‘Yes, since I was eight,’ Jaz said. ‘I’ve been in love with him since I was sixteen.’ It didn’t hurt to tell her one more little white lie, did it? It was all in a good cause. ‘How old are you?’

‘Fifteen and a half,’ Emma said.

‘Tough age.’

Emma’s big brown eyes lowered to study the contents of her mug. ‘I met Jake at a function a couple of months ago,’ she said. ‘It was at my stepfather’s restaurant. He sometimes lets me work for him as a waitress. Jake was the only person who was nice to me that night. He even gave me a tip.’

‘Understandable you’d fancy yourself in love with him,’ Jaz said. ‘He breaks hearts just by breathing.’

Emma’s mouth lifted at the corners in a vestige of a smile. ‘I should hate you but I don’t. You’re too nice. Kind of natural and normal, you know? But then, I guess I would hate you if I didn’t think you were perfect for him.’

Jaz smiled over clenched teeth. ‘How about we give your mum a call and let her know where you are? Then I’ll drive you to the station and wait with you until you get on the train, okay? Have you got a mobile?’

Silly question. What teenager didn’t? It was probably a better model than hers.

* * *

When Jaz got back from sending Emma on her way home, Jake was in the main sitting room clearing away the detritus of his short-lived party. Apparently he had sent his guests on their merry way as well. ‘Need some help with that?’ she said.

He sent her a black look. ‘I think you’ve done more than enough for one night.’

‘I thought it was a stroke of genius, actually,’ Jaz said, calmly inspecting her nails.

‘Engaged?’ he said. ‘Us? Don’t make me laugh.’

He didn’t look anywhere near laughing, Jaz thought. His jaw was locked like a stiff hinge. His mouth was flat. His eyes were blazing with fury. ‘What else was I supposed to do?’ she said. ‘That poor kid was so love-struck nothing short of an engagement would’ve convinced her to leave.’

‘I had it under control,’ he said through tight lips.

Jaz rolled her eyes. ‘How? By having a big bimbo bash? Like that was ever going to work. You’re going about this all wrong, Jake—or should I call you Jakey?’

His eyes flashed another round of sparks at her. ‘That silly little kid has been stalking me for weeks. She gate-crashed an important business lunch last week. I lost a valuable client because of her.’

‘She’s young and fancies herself in love,’ Jaz said. ‘You were probably the first man to ever speak to her as if she was a real person instead of a geeky kid. But throwing a wild party with heaps of women isn’t going to convince her you’re not interested in her. The only way was to convince her you’re off the market. Permanently.’

He snatched up a half-empty bottle of champagne and stabbed the neck of it in her direction. ‘You’re the last woman on this planet I would ever ask to marry me.’

Jaz smiled. ‘I know. Isn’t it ironic?’

His jaw audibly ground together. ‘What’s your fiancé going to say about this?’

Here’s the payoff. She would have to tell Jake about the break-up. But it would be worth it if it achieved the desired end. ‘Myles and I are having a little break for a month,’ she said.

‘You conniving little cow,’ he said. ‘You’re using me to make him jealous.’

‘We’re using each other,’ Jaz corrected. ‘It’s a win-win. We’ll only have to pretend for a week or two. Once the hue and cry is over we can go back to being frenemies.’

His frown was so deep it closed the gap between his eyes. ‘You’re thinking of making an...an announcement?’

Jaz held up her phone. ‘Already done. Twitter is running hot with it. Any minute now I expect your family to start calling.’ As if on cue, both of their phones starting ringing.

‘Don’t answer that.’ He quickly muted his phone. ‘We need to think this through. We need a plan.’

Jaz switched her phone to silent but not before she saw Myles’ number come up. Good. All going swimmingly so far. ‘We can let your family in on the secret if you think they’ll play ball.’

‘It’s too risky.’ Jake scraped a hand through his hair. ‘If anyone lets slip we’re not the real deal, it could blow up in our faces. You know what the press are like. Do you think Emma bought it? Really?’

‘Yes, but she’ll know something’s up if you don’t follow through.’

He frowned again. ‘Follow through how? You’re not expecting me to marry you, are you?’

Jaz gave him a look that would have withered a plastic flower. ‘I’m marrying Myles, remember?’

‘If he takes you back after this.’

She heightened her chin. ‘He will.’

One side of his mouth lifted in a cynical arc. ‘What’s Miranda going to say? You think she’ll accept you’re in love with me?’

Miranda was going to be a hard sell, but Jaz knew she didn’t like Myles, so perhaps it would work. For a time. ‘I don’t like lying to Miranda, but she’s never been...’

‘You should’ve thought of that when you cooked up this stupid farce,’ Jake said. ‘No. We’ll run with it.’

‘What did you tell your party girls?’ Jaz said. ‘I hope I didn’t make things too awkward for you.’ Ha ha. She loved making things awkward for him. The more awkward, the better. What a hoot it was to see him squirm under the shackles of a commitment.

‘I’m not in the habit of explaining myself to anyone,’ he said. ‘But no doubt they’ll hear the news like everyone else.’

Jaz glanced at her bare ring finger. Who would take their engagement seriously unless she had evidence? ‘I haven’t got a ring.’

His dark eyes gleamed with malice. ‘No spares hanging around at home?’

She sent him a beady look. ‘Do you really want me to wear some other man’s ring?’

His mouth flattened again. ‘Right. I’ll get you a ring.’

‘No fake diamonds,’ she said. ‘I want the real thing. The sort of clients I attract can tell the difference, you know.’

‘This is what this is all about, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘You don’t want your clients to think you can’t hold a man long enough to get him to marry you.’

Jaz could feel her anger building like a catastrophic storm inside her. This wasn’t about what her clients thought. It was about what she felt. No one in their right mind wanted to be rejected. Abandoned. To be told they weren’t loved in the way she desperately dreamed of being loved. Not after she had invested so much in her relationship with Myles.

What did Jake know of investing in a relationship? He moved from one woman to the next without a thought of staying long enough to get to know someone beyond what they liked to do in bed. Only Jake could make her this angry—angry enough to throw something. It infuriated her that he alone could reduce her to such a state. ‘I can hold a man,’ she said. ‘I can hold him just fine. Myles has cold feet, that’s all. It’s perfectly normal for the groom to get a little stressed before the big day.’

‘If he loved you he wouldn’t ask for a break,’ Jake said. ‘He wouldn’t risk you finding someone else.’

That thought had occurred to Jaz but she didn’t want to think about it. She was good at not thinking about things she didn’t want to think about. ‘Listen to you,’ she said with a scornful snort. ‘Jake Ravensdale, playboy extraordinaire, talking like a world expert on love.’

‘Where did you take Emma?’

‘I put her on the train once I’d talked to her mother and made sure everything was cool,’ Jaz said. ‘I didn’t want her to get into trouble or do anything she might regret.’ Like I did. She pushed the thought aside. She wouldn’t think about the rest of that night after she had left Jake’s bedroom.

Jake picked up a glass, filled it with champagne and knocked it back in one gulp. He shook his head like a dog coming out of water and then poured another glass. With his features cast in such serious lines, he looked more like his twin Julius than ever.

‘We need a photo,’ Jaz said. ‘Hand me a glass.’

He looked at her as if she had just asked him to poke a knitting needle in his eye. ‘A photo?’ he said. ‘What for?’

She helped herself to a glass of champagne and came to stand beside him but he backed away as if she was carrying dynamite. Or knitting needles. ‘Get away from me,’ he said.

‘We have to do this, Jake,’ she said. ‘Who’s going to believe it if we don’t do an engagement photo?’

‘You don’t have a ring,’ he said. ‘Yet.’ The way he said ‘yet’ made it sound as though he considered the task on the same level as having root canal therapy.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Jaz said. ‘Just a shot with us with a glass of champers and grinning like Cheshire cats will be enough.’

‘You’re a sadist,’ he said, shooting her a hooded look as she came to stand beside him with her camera phone poised. ‘You know that, don’t you? A totally sick sadist.’

It was impossible for Jaz not to notice how hard and warm his arm was against hers as she leaned in to get the shot. Impossible not to think of those strongly muscled arms gathering her even closer. Was he as aware of her as she was of him? Was that why he was standing so still? He hadn’t been this close to her in years. When family photographs had been taken—even though strictly speaking she wasn’t family—she had always been up the other end of the shot close to Miranda or one of Jake’s parents. She had never stood right next to Jake. Not so close she could practically feel the blood pumping through his veins. She checked the photo and groaned. ‘Oh, come on,’ she said. ‘Surely you can do better than that. You look like someone’s got a broomstick up your—’

‘Okay, we’ll try again.’ He put an arm around her shoulders and leaned his head against hers. She could feel the strands of his tousled hair tickling her skin. Her senses were going haywire when his stubbly jaw grazed her face. He smelt amazing—lime and lemongrass with a hint of ginger or some other spice. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Take the goddamn shot.’

‘Oh...right,’ Jaz said and clicked the button. She checked the photo but this time it looked like she was the one being tortured. Plus it was blurred. ‘Not my best angle.’ She deleted it and held up the phone. ‘One more take. Say cheese.’

‘That’s enough,’ he said, stepping away from her once she’d taken the shot. ‘You have to promise me you’ll delete that when this is all over, okay?’

Jaz criss-crossed her chest with her hand. ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

He grunted as if her demise was something he was dearly praying for.

She sent the tweet and then quickly sent a text to Miranda:

I know you never liked Myles. You approve of fiancé # 4?

Miranda’s text came back within seconds.

OMG! Definitely!!! Congrats. Always knew you were hot for each other. J Will call later xxxxx

‘Who are you texting?’ Jake asked.

‘Miranda,’ Jaz said, putting her phone down. ‘She’s thrilled for us. We’ll finally be sisters. Yay.’

He muttered a curse and prowled around the room like a shark in a fishbowl. ‘Julius is never going to fall for this. Not for a moment.’

‘He’ll have to if you want Emma to go away,’ Jaz said. ‘If you don’t play along I’ll tell her the truth.’

He threw her a filthy look. ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

She smiled a victor’s smile. ‘What’s that saying about revenge is a dish best eaten cold?’

He glowered at her. ‘Isn’t it a little childish to be harking on about that night all these years later? I did you a favour back then. I could’ve done you that night but how would that have worked out? Ever thought about that? No. You want to paint me as the big, bad guy who made you feel a little embarrassed about that schoolgirl crush. But, believe me, I could have done a whole lot worse.’

Jaz stepped out of his way as he stormed past her to leave the room. You did do a whole lot worse, she wanted to throw after him. But instead she clamped her lips together and turned back to look at the discarded bottles and glasses.

Typical. Jake had a habit of leaving his mess for other people to clean up.


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_aad4c501-8dd4-5886-81df-ac3038bf0bce)

JAKE WAS SO mad he could see red spots in front of his eyes. Or maybe he was having a brain aneurysm from anger build-up. Seven years of it. He paced the floor of his room, raking his hair, grinding his teeth, swearing like a Brooklyn rapper at what Jasmine had done to him. Engaged! What a freaking farce. No one would believe it. Not him. Not the playboy prince of the pick-ups.

His stomach turned at the thought. Committed. Tied down. Trapped. He was the last person who would ever tie himself down to one woman and certainly not someone like Jasmine Connolly. She was a manipulative little witch. She was using him. Using him to lure back her third fiancé. Who on earth got engaged three times? Someone who was obsessed with getting married, that was who. Jasmine didn’t seem to care who she got engaged to as long as they had money and status.

But through the red mist of anger he could see her solution had some merit. Emma Madden had taken the news of their ‘engagement’ rather well. He had been poleaxed to see that kid standing on the doorstep. He could count on half a hand how many times he’d been caught off guard but seeing that kid there was right up there. If anyone had seen her—anyone being the press, that was—he would have been toast. He didn’t want to be cruel to the girl but how else could he get rid of her? Jasmine’s solution seemed to have worked. So far. But how long would he have to stay ‘engaged’?

Then there was his family to deal with. He could probably pull off the lie with his parents and Miranda but not his twin. Julius knew him too well. Julius knew how much he hated the thought of being confined in a relationship. Jake was more like his father in that way. His father wasn’t good at marriage. Richard and Elisabetta fought as passionately as they made up. It was a war zone one minute and a love fest the next. As a child Jake had found it deeply unsettling—not that he’d ever showed it. His role in the family was the court jester. It was his way of coping with the turbulent emotions that flew around like missiles. He’d never known what he was coming home to.

Then eventually it had happened. The divorce had been bitter and public and the intrusion of the press terrifying to a child of eight. He and Julius had been packed off to boarding school but, while Julius had relished the routine, structure and discipline, Jake had not. Julius had excelled academically while Jake had scraped through, not because he wasn’t intellectually capable but because in an immature and mostly subconscious way he hadn’t wanted his parents to think their divorce had had a positive effect on him.

But he had more than made up for it in his business analysis company. He was successful and wealthy and had the sort of life most people envied. The fly-in, fly-out nature of his work suited his personality. He didn’t hang around long. He just got in there, sorted out the problems and left. Which was how he liked to conduct his relationships.

Being tied to Jasmine, even if it was only a game of charades, was nothing less than torture. He had spent the last seven years avoiding her. Distancing himself from all physical contact. He had even failed to show up for some family functions in an effort to avoid the tension of being in the same room as her. He’d had plenty of lectures from Julius and Miranda about fixing things with Jasmine but why should he apologise? He hadn’t done anything wrong. He had done the opposite. He had solved the problem, not made it worse. It was her that was still in a snit over something she should have got over years ago.

She had been a cute little kid but once she’d hit her teens she’d changed into a flirty little vamp. It had driven him nuts. She had followed him around like a loyal puppy, trying to sneak time with him, touching him ‘by accident’ and batting those impossibly long eyelashes at him. He had gone along with it for a while, flirting back in a playful manner, but in the end that had backfired, as she’d seemed to think he was serious about her. He wasn’t serious about anyone. But on the night of his parents New Year’s Eve party, when she’d been sixteen and he twenty-six, he had drawn the line. He’d activated a plan to give her the message loud and clear: He was a player, not the soppy, romantic happy-ever-after beau she imagined him to be.

That night she had dressed in a revealing outfit that was far too old for her and had worn make-up far too heavy. To Jake she had looked like a kid who had rummaged around in her mother’s wardrobe. In the dark. He had gone along with her flirtation all evening, agreeing to meet with her in his room just after midnight. But instead of turning up alone as she’d expected he’d brought a couple of girls with him, intending to shock Jasmine into thinking he was expecting an orgy. It had certainly done the trick. She had left him alone ever since. He couldn’t remember the last time she had spoken to him other than to make some cutting remark and the only time she looked at him was to spear him with a death-adder glare. Which had suited him just fine.

Until now.

Now he had to work out a way of hanging around with her without wanting to... Well, he didn’t want to admit to what he wanted to do with her. But he was only human and a full-blooded male, after all. She was the stuff of male fantasies. He would never admit it to anyone but over the years he’d enjoyed a few fantasies of her in his morning shower. She was sultry and sulky, yet she had a razor-sharp wit and intelligence to match. She had done well for herself, building her business up from scratch, although he thought she was heading for a burnout by trying to do everything herself. Not that she would ever ask his advice. She was too proud. She would rather go bankrupt than admit she might have made a mistake.

Jake dragged a hand down his face. This was going to be the longest week or two of his life. What did Jasmine expect of him? How far did she want this act to go? She surely wouldn’t want to sleep with him if she was still hankering after her ex? Not that she showed any sign of being attracted to him, although she did have a habit of looking at his mouth now and again. But everyone knew how much she hated him. Not that a bit of hate got in the way of good sex.

Sheesh. He had to stop thinking about sex and Jasmine in the same sentence. He had never seen her as a sister, even though she had been brought up as one at Ravensdene. Or at least not since she’d hit her teens. She’d grown from being a gangly, awkward teenager into an unusual but no less stunning beauty. Her features were not what one could describe as classically beautiful, but there was some indefinable element to the prominence of her brows and the ice-blue and storm-grey of her eyes that made her unforgettable. She had a model-slim figure and lustrous, wavy honey-brown hair that fell midway down her back. Her skin was creamy and smooth and looked fabulous with or without make-up, although she used make-up superbly these days.

Her mouth... How could he describe it? It was perfect. Simply perfect. He had never seen a more beautiful mouth. The lower lip was full and shapely, the top one a perfect arc above it. The vermillion borders of her lips were so neatly aligned it was as if a master had drawn them. She had a way of slightly elevating her chin, giving her a haughty air that belied her humble beginnings. Her nose, too, had the look of an aristocrat about it with its ski-slope contour. When she smiled—which she rarely did when he was around—it lit up the room. He had seen grown men buckle at the knees at that smile.

Jake’s phone vibrated where he’d left it on the bedside table. He glanced at the screen and saw it was Julius. His twin had called six times now. Better get it over with, he thought, and answered.

‘Is this some kind of prank?’ Julius said without preamble.

‘No, it’s—’

‘Jaz and you?’ Julius cut him off. ‘Come on, man. You hate her guts. You can’t stand being in the same room as her. What happened?’

‘It was time to bury the hatchet,’ Jake said.

‘You think I came down in the last shower?’ Julius said. ‘I know wedding fever has hit with Holly and me, and now Miranda and Leandro, but you and Jaz? I don’t buy it for a New York picosecond. What’s she got on you? Is she holding a AK-47 to your head?’

Jake let out a rough-edged sigh. He could lie to anyone else but not his identical twin. All that time in the womb had given them a connection beyond what normal siblings felt. They even felt each other’s pain. When Julius had had his appendix out when he was fifteen Jake had felt like someone was ripping his guts out. ‘I’ve been having a little problem with a girl,’ he said. ‘A teenager.’

‘I’m not sure I want to hear this.’

‘It’s not what you think,’ Jake said and explained the situation before adding, ‘Jasmine intercepted Emma at the door and told her we were engaged.’

‘How did this girl Emma take it?’

‘Surprisingly well,’ Jake said.

‘What about Jaz’s fiancé?’

‘I have no idea,’ Jake said. ‘He’s either relieved she’s off his hands or he’s going to turn up at my place and shoot out my kneecaps.’

‘Always a possibility.’

‘Don’t remind me.’

There was a beat of silence.

‘You’re not going to sleep with her, are you?’ Julius said.

‘God, no,’ Jake said. ‘I wouldn’t touch her with a barge pole.’

‘Yes, well, I suggest you keep your barge pole zipped in your pants,’ Julius said dryly. ‘What actually happened with you guys that night at the party? I know she came to your room but you’ve never said what went on other than you didn’t touch her.’

‘I didn’t do anything except send her on her way,’ Jake said. ‘You know what she was like, always following me about, giving me sheep’s eyes. I taught her a lesson by offering her a foursome but she declined.’

‘A novel approach.’

‘It worked.’

‘Maybe, but don’t you think her anger is a little out of proportion?’ Julius said.

‘That’s just Jasmine,’ Jake said. ‘She’s always had a rotten temper.’

‘I don’t know... I sometimes wonder if something else happened that night.’

‘Like what?’

‘She’d been drinking and was obviously upset after leaving your room,’ Julius said. ‘Not a good combination in a teenage girl.’

Jake hung up a short time later once they’d switched topics but he couldn’t get rid of the seed of unease Julius had planted in his mind. Had something happened that night after Jasmine had left his room? Was that why she had been so protective of young Emma, making sure she got home safely with an adult at the other end to meet her? The rest of that night was a bit of blur for him. Most of his parents’ parties ended up that way. Even some of his parties were a little full-on too. There was always a lot of alcohol, loud music blaring and people coming and going. He had been feeling too pleased with himself for solving the Jasmine problem to give much thought to where she’d gone after leaving his room. At twenty-six what he had done had seemed the perfect solution. The only solution.

Now, at thirty-three, he wasn’t quite so sure.

* * *

Jaz was making herself a nightcap in the kitchen when Jake strolled in. ‘Finding it hard to sleep without a playgirl bunny or three in your bed to keep you warm?’

‘What happened after you left my room that night?’

Jaz lowered her gaze to her chocolate drink rather than meet his piercing blue eyes. The chocolate swirled as she stirred it with the teaspoon, creating a whirlpool not unlike the one she could feel in the pit of her stomach. She never thought about that night. That night had happened to another person. It had happened to a foolish, gauche kid who’d had too much to drink and had been too emotionally unstable to know what she was doing or what she was getting into.

‘Jasmine. Answer me.’

Jaz lifted her gaze to his and frowned. ‘Why do you always call me Jasmine instead of Jaz? You’re the only one in your family who insists on doing that. Why?’

‘It’s your name.’

‘So? Yours is Jacques but you don’t like being called that,’ Jaz pointed out. ‘Maybe I’ll start to.’

‘Julius knows.’

Her heart gave a little stumble. ‘Knows what?’

‘About us,’ he said. ‘About this not being real.’

Jaz took a moment to get her head sorted. She’d thought he meant Julius knew about that night... But how could he? He would have said something if he did. He was the sort of man who would have got her to press charges. He wouldn’t have stood by and let someone get away with it. ‘Oh...right; well, I guess he’s your twin and all.’

‘He won’t tell anyone apart from Holly.’

‘Good,’ Jaz said. ‘The less people who know, the better.’

Jake pulled out a kitchen stool and sat opposite her at the island bench. ‘You want to make me one of those?’

She lifted her chin. ‘Make it yourself.’

A slow smile came to his mouth. ‘I guess I’d better in case you put cyanide in it.’

Jaz forced her gaze away from the tempting curve of his mouth. It wasn’t fair that one man had so much darn sex appeal. It came off him in waves. She felt it brush against her skin, making her body tingle at the thought of him touching her for real. Ever since his arm had brushed against hers, ever since he’d slung his arm around her shoulders and leaned in against her, she had longed for him to do it again. It was like every nerve under her skin was sitting bolt upright and wide awake, waiting with bated breath for him to touch her again.

She was aware of him in other parts of her body. The secret parts. Her breasts and inner core tingled from the moment he’d stepped into the same room. It was like he could turn a switch in her body simply by being present. She watched covertly as he moved about the kitchen, fetching a cup and the tin of chocolate powder and stirring it into the milk before he turned to put it in the microwave.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his back and shoulders. He was wearing a cotton T-shirt that showcased every sculpted muscle on his frame. How would it feel to slide her hands down his tautly muscled back? To slip one of her hands past the waistband of his jeans and cup his trim buttocks, or what was on the other side of his testosterone-rich groin?

Jaz gave herself a mental shake. She was on a mission to win back Myles. Getting involved with Jake was out of the question. Not that he would ever want her. He loathed her just as much as she loathed him. But men could separate their emotions from sex. She of all people knew that. Maybe he would want to make the most of their situation—a little fling to pass the time until he could get back to his simpering starlets and Hollywood hopefuls. Her mind started to drift... What would it feel like to have Jake make love to her? To have his hands stroke every inch of her flesh, to have his mouth plunder hers?

Jake turned from the microwave. ‘Is something wrong?’

Jaz blinked to reset her vision. ‘That was weird. I thought I saw you actually lift a finger in the kitchen. I must be hallucinating.’

He laughed and pulled out one of the stools opposite hers at the kitchen bench. ‘I can find my way around a kitchen when I need to.’

Jaz’s top lip lifted in a cynical arc. ‘Like when no slavishly devoted woman is there to cater to your every whim?’

His eyes held hers in a penetrating lock. She felt the power of it go through her like a current of electricity. ‘How much did you have to drink that night?’ he asked.

She pushed her untouched chocolate away and slipped off the stool. ‘Clean up your mess when you’re done in here. Eggles won’t be back till Sunday night.’

Jaz almost got to the door, but then Jake’s hand came out of nowhere and turned her to face him. His warm, strong fingers curling around her arm sent a shockwave through her body, making her feel as if someone inside her stomach had shuffled a deck of cards. Quickly. Vegas-quick. She moistened her lips with her tongue as she brought her gaze to his dark-blue one. His ink-black lashes were at half-mast, giving him a sexily hooded look. She looked at his mouth and felt that shuffle in her heart valves this time. She could look at his twin’s mouth any time without this crazy reaction. What was it about Jake’s mouth that turned her into a quivering mess of female hormones? Was it because, try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel pressed to hers? ‘I don’t remember giving you permission to touch me,’ she said.

Instead of releasing her he slid his fingers down to the bones of her wrist and encircled it like a pair of gentle handcuffs. ‘Talk to me,’ he said in a deep, gravel-rough voice that made the entire length of her spine soften like candle wax in a steam room.

Jaz tested his hold but all it did was take him with her to the doorframe, which was just an inch or so behind her. She pressed her back against it for stability because right then her legs weren’t doing such a great job of holding her upright. He was now so close she could see the individual pinpricks of stubble along his jaw and around his nose and mouth. She could feel their breath intermingling. His muscle-packed thighs were within a hair’s breadth of hers, his booted feet toe-to-toe with her bare ones. ‘Wh-what are you doing?’ she said in a voice she barely recognised as her own.

His eyes went to her mouth, lingering there for endless, heart-stopping seconds. ‘Ever wondered what would happen if we kissed?’

Like just about every day for the last seven years. ‘You’d get your face slapped, that’s what.’

A smile hitched up one side of his mouth. ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought.’

Jaz felt like her heart rate was trying to get into the Guinness Book of Records. She could smell those lime and lemongrass notes of his aftershave and something else that was one part musk and three parts male. ‘But you’re not going to do it, right?’

He moved around her mouth like a metal detector just above the ground where something valuable was hidden. He didn’t touch down but he might as well have because she felt the tingling in her lips as if he was transmitting raw sexual energy from his body to hers. ‘You think about it, don’t you? About us getting down to business.’

Oh, dear God in heaven, where is my willpower? Jaz thought as her senses went haywire. She had never wanted to be kissed more in her life than right then. She had never wanted to feel a man’s arms go around her and pull her into his hard body. Desire moved through her like a prowling, hungry beast looking for satiation. She felt it in her blood, the tick of arousal. She felt it in her breasts, the prickly sensation of them shifting against the lace of her bra as if they couldn’t wait for him to get his hands or mouth on them. She felt it in her core, the pulse and contraction of her inner muscles in anticipatory excitement. ‘No, I don’t. I never think about it.’

He gave a soft chuckle as he stepped back from her. ‘No, nor do I.’

Jaz stood in numb silence as he went back to the island bench to pick up his hot chocolate. She watched as he lifted the mug to his lips and took a sip. He put the mug down and cocked a brow at her. ‘Something wrong?’

She pushed herself away from the doorframe, tucking her hair back over one shoulder with a hand that wasn’t as steady as she would have liked. ‘We haven’t discussed the rules about our engagement.’

‘Rules?’

Jaz gave him a look. ‘Yes, rules. Not your favourite word, is it?’

His eyes glinted. ‘Far as I’m concerned, they’re only there to be broken.’

She steeled her spine. ‘Not this time.’

‘Is that a dare?’

Jaz could feel every cell in her body being pulled and tugged by the animal attraction he evoked in her. She couldn’t understand why someone she hated so much could have such a monumental effect on her. She wanted to throw herself at him, tear at his clothes and crawl all over his body. She wanted to lock her mouth on his and tangle her tongue with his in an erotic salsa. She wanted him inside her body. She could feel the hollow vault of her womanhood pulsating with need. She could even feel the dew of her intimate moisture gathering. She wanted him like a drug she knew she shouldn’t have. He was contraband. Dangerous. ‘Is the thought of being celibate for a week or two really that difficult for you?’

He gave a lip shrug. ‘Never done it before, so I wouldn’t know.’

Jaz mentally rolled her eyes. ‘Do you have shares in a condom manufacturer or something?’

His dark eyes gleamed with amusement. ‘Now there’s an idea.’

She picked up her mug of chocolate, not to drink, but to give her hands something to do in case they took it upon themselves to touch him. ‘I find your shallow approach to relationships deeply offensive. It’s like you only see women as objects you can use to satisfy a bodily need. You don’t see them as real people who have feelings.’

‘I have the greatest respect for women. That’s why I’m always honest with them about what I want from them.’

Jaz eyeballed him. ‘I think it’s because you’re scared of commitment. You can’t handle the thought of someone leaving you so you don’t let yourself bond with them in the first place.’

He gave a mocking laugh. ‘You got a printout of that psychology degree you bought online?’

‘That’s another thing you do,’ Jaz said. ‘You joke your way through life because being serious about stuff terrifies you.’

His mouth was smiling but his eyes were not. They had become as hard as flint. ‘Ever wondered why your three fiancés have dumped you before you could march them up the aisle?’

Jaz ground her teeth together until her jaw ached. ‘Myles hasn’t dumped me. We’re on a break. It’s not the same as being...breaking up.’

‘You’re a ballbreaker. You don’t want a man. You want a puppet. Someone you can wind around your little finger to do what you want when you want. No man worth his testosterone will stand for that.’

Jaz could feel her anger straining at the leash of her control like a feral dog tied up with a piece of cotton. Her fingers around the mug of chocolate twitched. How she would love to spray it over Jake’s arrogant face. ‘You enjoy humiliating me, don’t you? It gives you such a big, fat hard-on, doesn’t it?’

His jaw worked as if her words had hit a raw nerve. ‘While we’re playing Ten Things I Hate About You, here’s another one for my list. You need to get over yourself. You’ve held onto this ridiculous grudge for far too long.’

Jaz saw the hot chocolate fly through the air before she fully registered she’d thrown it. It splashed over the front of his T-shirt like brown paint thrown at a wall.

Jake barely moved a muscle. He was as still as a statue on a plinth. Too still.

The silence was breathing, heaving with menace.

But then he calmly reached over the back of his head, hauled the T-shirt off, bunched it up into a rough ball and handed it to her. ‘Wash it.’

Jaz swallowed as she looked at the T-shirt. She had lost control. A thing she had sworn she would never do. Crazy people like her mother lost control. They shouted and screamed and threw things. Not her. She never let anyone do that to her. A tight knot of self-disgust began to choke her. Tears welled up behind her eyes, escaping from a place she had thought she had locked and bolted for good. Tears she hadn’t cried since that night when she had finally made it back to her bedroom with shame clinging to her like filth. No amount of showering had removed it. If she thought about that night she would feel it clogging every pore of her skin like engine grease. She took the T-shirt from him with an unsteady hand. ‘I’m sorry...’

‘Forget about it.’

I only wish I could, Jaz thought. But when she finally worked up the courage to look up he had already turned on his heel and gone.


CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_8c44d6c2-2a72-5eb0-9f16-76f14fffd1e8)

JAKE WAS VAINLY trying to sleep when he heard the sound of the plumbing going in the other wing of the house where Jasmine’s room was situated next to Miranda’s. He lay there for a while, listening as the pipes pumped water. Had Jasmine left on a tap? He glanced at the bedside clock. It was late to be having a shower, although he had to admit for him a cold one wouldn’t have gone astray. He rarely lost his temper. He preferred to laugh his way out of trouble but something about Jasmine’s mood had got to him tonight. He was sick of dragging their history around like a dead carcass. It was time to put it behind them. He didn’t want Julius and Holly’s or Miranda and Leandro’s wedding ruined by a ridiculous feud that had gone on way too long.

He shoved off the bed covers and reached for a bathrobe. He seemed to remember Jasmine had a tendency for long showers but he still thought he’d better check to make sure nothing was amiss. He made his way to the bathroom closest to her room and rapped his knuckles on the door. ‘You okay in there?’ he said. No answer. He tapped again, louder this time, and called out but the water continued. He tried the door but it was locked. He frowned. Why did she think she had to lock the door? They were alone in the house. Didn’t she trust him? The thought sat uncomfortably on him. He might be casual about sex but not that casual. He always ensured he had consent first.




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