Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Mr and Mischief

Mr and Mischief
Kate Hewitt
Step into a world of sophistication and glamour, where sinfully seductive heroes await you in luxurious international locations.Will love conquer…her boss?Beautiful, clever, rich – and determinedly single – Emily Wood is the youngest ever head of HR at her company. Whether dousing corporate fires or matchmaking lonely colleagues, Emily’s at the top of her game. Only her handsome, sardonic boss Jason Kingsley appears to remain immune to her charm…Jason is used to women falling at his feet, but relationships, with all their illogical demands, are not for him. So why does he find Emily so attractive? She’s a highly unsuitable target for his seduction and merger skills – what with her misguided belief in the power of love…The Powerful and the Pure When Beauty tames the brooding Beast…




Jason stood quite close to her, his hair rumpled and colour slashing his cheekbones.
He braced his hands against the wall on either side of her head, so that she was effectively imprisoned, although standing between the strength of his arms did not feel like being trapped. Instead, as her heart started to pound and her cheeks flushed, Emily felt a glorious sense of anticipation that rose up inside her like a bubble. She felt almost as if she could float right off the ground, anchored only by the heavy thud of her heart. Jason’s gaze remained on her, his eyes the colour of dark honey, and Emily could not look away.
From somewhere she found words. She gave him a pointed look, meaning to end the conversation and dismiss him. ‘Just what is it you’d like to do?’
‘This.’
As he lowered his head to hers, a part of Emily’s befuddled brain wondered what on earth he intended to do—while another, shocked part, acknowledged He’s going to kiss me.
THE POWERFUL AND THE PURE
When Beauty tames the brooding Beast …
From Mr Darcy to Heathcliff, the best romantic heroes have always been tall, dark and dangerously irresistible.
This year, indulge yourself as Modern™ Romance brings you four formidable men—the ultimate heroes. Untameable … or so they think!
The Powerful and the Pure
When Beauty tames the brooding Beast.
Coming soon in 2011—four timeless love stories from Modern™ Romance!

About the Author
KATE HEWITT discovered her first Mills & Boon
romance on a trip to England when she was thirteen, and she’s continued to read them ever since. She wrote her first story at the age of five, simply because her older brother had written one and she thought she could do it too. That story was one sentence long—fortunately they’ve become a bit more detailed as she’s grown older.
She has written plays, short stories, and magazine serials for many years, but writing romance remains her first love. Besides writing, she enjoys reading, traveling, and learning to knit.
After marrying the man of her dreams—her older brother’s childhood friend—she lived in England for six years and now resides in Connecticut, with her husband, her three young children, and the possibility of one day getting a dog.
Kate loves to hear from readers—you can contact her through her website: www.kate-hewitt.com
To Meg.
Thank you for years of wonderful advice
and encouragement, and helping me to make my books the best they can be.

MR AND MISCHIEF
KATE HEWITT


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

CHAPTER ONE
‘IT LOOKS like I missed the party.’
Emily Wood turned from her rather dour perusal of the leaving-party detritus, surprised that anyone was left. Stephanie had gone an hour ago, full of high spirits and plans for her wedding in a month’s time, and the rest of the employees had trickled away afterwards, leaving nothing but a few tables of crumb-scattered plates and glasses of now-flat champagne in the office’s party room.
‘Jason!’ The name burst from her lips as she stared in surprise at the man lounging against the doorway. ‘You’re back!’
‘My plane landed an hour ago,’ Jason replied, glancing ruefully around at the mess. ‘I thought I might make the end of the party, but obviously I was mistaken.’
‘Just in time for the clean-up,’ Emily replied lightly. She crossed the room and, standing on her tiptoes, reached up to kiss his cheek. ‘How lovely to see you.’ His skin was warm and she inhaled the citrusy tang of his aftershave; the scent was more pungent than one she would have associated with stoic, straight-as-an-arrow Jason, the boy who had kept her out of trouble, the man who had left Highfield for a high-profile career in civil engineering. He was her boss and oldest family friend, although whether he was her friend was another matter altogether. Looking at his rather cool expression now, Emily remembered how Jason always seemed to disapprove of her just a bit.
She stepped back with a brisk smile. Jason hadn’t moved, but Emily was gratified to see the tiniest quirk of his mouth. Amazing, but it almost looked like a smile. ‘I didn’t know you were due back in London.’ As founder and CEO of Kingsley Engineering, Jason travelled for most of the year. Emily couldn’t even remember the last time she’d seen him beyond a flash of sober suit in the hallway, or amidst the chaos of a family gathering back in Surrey. He’d certainly never sought her out like this.
Although, she acknowledged as she began to gather up the icing-smeared plates, he wasn’t really seeking her out. He’d just missed the party.
‘I thought it was about time I came home,’ Jason said. He glanced around at the empty tables. ‘It looks like it was a successful party. But then, of course, I wouldn’t expect anything less.’
Successful, Emily thought, rather than fun. So typical of Jason. She arched her eyebrows. ‘Oh, and why is that?’
‘You’re quite the busy little socialite, Em.’
Emily bristled, because the words did not sound complimentary coming out of Jason’s mouth. Just because she enjoyed a party hardly made her some kind of scatty socialite. And the childhood nickname surprised her, even though it shouldn’t. Jason had been the only one to call her that. Little Em, he’d tease, yanking her plaits and giving her a smile that wasn’t quite condescending. More just … knowing. Yet he could hardly say he knew her now; despite working for his company, with his intense travel schedule she’d barely seen him in the five years she’d been at KE. And she couldn’t remember the last time he’d called her Em.
‘I wasn’t aware you kept tabs on my social activities,’ she said, only half-joking.
‘I’m honour bound to, considering our history. And, in any case, you’ve made the social pages enough it would be hard not to notice.’
Emily gave him a playful smile. ‘And you read the social
pages?’
‘I eagerly await them every morning.’
Emily burst out laughing, for the thought of Jason poring over photos of ageing debutantes and profligate playboys was utterly ludicrous, though she’d hardly expect him to joke about it—or joke about anything, really. More than once she’d wondered if he’d had his sense of humour surgically removed.
‘Actually,’ he continued, his tone serious and even severe once more, ‘my PA scans them for me. I need to know what my employees are up to.’
Ah, there he was. The real Jason, the Jason she knew and remembered, always ready to deliver a scolding or shoot her one of those stern looks. Emily gave him a sunny smile. ‘Well, as you can see, this was quite the wild party. Cake and streamers, and I believe someone might have brought out the karaoke machine. Scandalous.’
‘Don’t forget the champagne.’
Emily reached for several empty plastic flutes. ‘How did you guess?’
‘Actually, I provided it.’
‘You did?’ She couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice, and Jason’s mouth quirked again in a small smile. He propped one shoulder against the doorway.
‘Really, Emily, I’m not quite that stern a taskmaster. And I did actually try to make it to this party. Stephanie has been with the company for over five years.’
‘Ah, so that’s the reason. You probably give out some kind of honorary plaque.’
‘You only get one of those for ten years’ service,’ Jason told her, and Emily’s mouth dropped open. He had to be kidding—then she saw a telltale glint in his eyes and realised he was. Two jokes in one day. What had happened to him in Africa?
Surprised and a little discomfited by their banter, Emily paused in her clearing up to look at him properly; he wore a suit—of course—of expensive grey silk, a muted navy tie knotted at his throat. His hair, chocolate brown, the same colour as his eyes, was cut short. He looked crisp and clean and neat, remote and untouchable with that small, rather superior smile Emily had never completely liked but accepted as part of who Jason was, the exalted older brother-in-law, separated from her by twelve years, distant and just a little disapproving.
He’d never taken part in their silly childhood games. She, her sister Isobel, and Jason’s younger brother Jack had always got into the most amazing scrapes, and Jason had been the one to bail them out and lecture them afterwards. She’d accepted and resented it at turns, yet never questioned his innate authority. It was too much a part of him, and the relationship he’d had with them all. Yet it had been months since she’d seen him, years since they’d really talked.
Five years ago, when she’d arrived in London looking for a job, he’d directed her to Stephanie, then Head of Human Resources, and then barely seen her settle in as a secretary before he’d been off again, directing a building project in Asia. The times he’d seen her since then had been at the office, where he kept a cool, professional distance, or back in Surrey at various family gatherings, where he was no more than what he’d always been—Jason, as good as an older brother, bossy and perhaps a little bit boring but still … Jason. An essential part of the landscape of her life, steady and staid and there.
‘So are you back for long this time?’ she asked, turning back to the table of paper plates.
‘A few months I hope. I have some business locally to take care of.’ He spoke casually enough, yet Emily sensed an undercurrent of intensity that sparked her curiosity, and she glanced back at him. Jason’s impassive face gave nothing away.
‘Local business?’ she repeated as she dumped another load of paper plates into the bin. ‘I didn’t know KE had a local project going on.’ As a civil engineer, Jason’s speciality was water management in Third World countries. It was a rather impressive line Emily trotted out when conducting interviews, although she’d yet to really understand just what it entailed. He’d never done a local project before, as far as she knew.
‘It’s not to do with the company,’ Jason replied, his voice mild.
‘Personal business?’ she asked. ‘You mean family?’ She thought of Jason’s taciturn father, his tearaway brother, now married to her own sister. Was someone in trouble or ill? Her brow furrowed, and Jason’s mouth quirked once more in that knowing little smile as he shook his head.
‘You’re full of questions, aren’t you? No, as a matter of fact, it’s nothing to do with family. But personal.’ He stressed it lightly yet pointedly, making her feel a bit like the bratty little girl she’d undoubtedly been to his very cool teenager. Or twenty-something. He’d always been a little god-like in his maturity and sophistication. When she’d been getting braces, he’d already started his own company and made his first million.
‘Sorry. I’ll stop.’ She smiled just as teasingly back, determined to keep it light and breezy, although now her curiosity was well and truly whetted. What kind of personal business could Jason Kingsley have? There had always been a fair amount of office speculation about the boss’s personal life, for while he was in London he always had a different woman on his arm at various social functions, usually someone glamorous and shallow, and in Emily’s opinion totally unsuitable for Jason. Yet she’d never seen him with a serious girlfriend and, despite the office’s occasional forays into speculation about that aspect of their employer, Emily hadn’t given too much thought to Jason’s personal life. Of course, she’d hardly seen him at all. And although their families were intertwined through the marriage of her older sister to Jason’s younger brother, he hardly ever went back to Highfield, the village in Surrey where they’d both grown up. And he’d already said it wasn’t family-related, so what was it?
After another few seconds of silent speculation, Emily shrugged it aside. Clearly Jason’s personal business had nothing to do with her. It was probably something incredibly boring, like taking care of an old debt or an ingrown toenail. She thought of Jason sitting on a doctor’s examining table, and a sudden, bizarre image of him in nothing more than one of those awful little paper robes flashed across her brain. The mental picture was both ridiculous and yet strangely enthralling, for her overactive imagination seemed to have a rather good idea of what Jason’s bare chest would look like.
An unexpected bubble of laughter erupted from her and she clapped her hand over her mouth. Jason glanced at her, shaking his head. ‘You’ve always been able to see the lighter side of life, haven’t you?’ he said dryly, and she dropped her hand from her mouth to dazzle him with her brightest smile.
‘It’s a great talent of mine, although it takes some work in certain company.’ His eyes narrowed and her smile widened. She knew Jason disapproved of her breezy attitude. She still remembered how sceptical he had looked when she’d come to London and asked him for a job. In retrospect, she had been a bit scatty, blithely assuming that Jason would have something for her to do, and pay her for it as well, but still it had been all too clear just how much Jason had doubted her capabilities.
You’re here to work, Emily, not for a lark …
Well, she hoped she’d proved herself in that area at least over the last five years. She was poised to become the youngest Head of Human Resources the company had ever had—admittedly there had only been two before her—and Jason himself had suggested her promotion, according to Stephanie.
Despite that, as she looked back at him watching her with that knowing little smile, his eyes crinkled at the corners and she couldn’t help but still feel like the silly young girl she’d once been. And, despite the promotion, he apparently still thought she was.
‘So Stephanie is to be married in a month,’ Jason mused. ‘This Timothy fellow—he’s all right?’
‘He’s lovely,’ Emily said firmly. ‘I had a hand in getting them together, actually.’
Jason arched an eyebrow, coolly sceptical as always. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, really,’ she replied, slightly nettled. ‘Tim is a friend of a friend of Isobel’s, and she told me that Annie told her—’
‘This is sounding far too complicated.’
‘For you, perhaps,’ Emily shot back. ‘I found it quite simple. So Annie said—
‘Give me the condensed version,’ Jason cut her off, and Emily rolled her eyes.
‘Oh, very well. I invited them both out to a party—’
‘Now that part I have no trouble following.’
‘Actually, it was a charity fund-raiser,’ Emily informed him. ‘For terminally ill children. In any case, they met there and—’
‘And it was love at first sight, was it?’ he filled in mockingly, and Emily pursed her lips.
‘No, of course not. But they never would have even met if I hadn’t arranged it, and in point of fact Tim was a bit shy after his wife died, and Steph has an absolute horror of blind dates, so—’
‘It took a bit of handholding?’
‘Or helping them to hold each other’s hands. You can’t make someone love you, of course—’
‘I should think not.’

Emily glanced at him curiously, for there was a sudden, darker note to Jason’s tone she didn’t expect or understand. She shrugged it aside. ‘In any case, they’re getting married in a month, so it all worked out nicely.’
‘Very nicely indeed.’ Jason had closed the space between them so she inhaled the citrusy whiff of his aftershave once more, felt the sudden heat of his body, and a strange new awareness prickled along her bare arms and up her spine. He really was awfully close.
‘You have icing in your hair,’ he said, and reached out to brush a sticky strand away from her cheek. His fingers were cool, the touch as light as a whisper, yet Emily stiffened in surprise anyway. She was conscious of how dishevelled she must look, with her hair falling down and a coffee stain on her skirt. Definitely not at her best.
She laughed lightly and pushed the unruly tendrils behind her ears. ‘Yes, I’m rather a mess, aren’t I? I just need to finish this clearing up.’
‘You could leave it for the cleaning lady.’
‘Alice? She’s taken the day off.’
‘You know her name?’
‘I am about to become the Head of HR,’ Emily reminded him. ‘Her mother’s ill and she’s gone to Manchester for the weekend to see her settled in a care home. It was a terrible wrench for her to make the decision, of course, but I think it will work out—’
‘I’m sure,’ Jason murmured, effectively cutting her off yet again, and Emily gave him a knowing look.
‘So sorry to bother you with details, but I thought you kept tabs on your employees’ lives? Or just the ones who make the social pages?’
‘I’m more concerned about how a social scandal reflects on Kingsley Engineering,’ Jason replied, ‘rather than the hows or whys of a cleaning lady taking the day off for her elderly mum.’ He gestured for her to keep speaking. ‘But do go on. It’s fascinating how you take such an interest in other people’s lives.’
Emily felt herself flush. Was that a criticism? And while she’d been high-spirited on occasion, she’d never involved herself in an actual scandal. Although she supposed high-spirited and scandal were synonymous in Jason’s view. ‘I suppose,’ she told him rather pointedly, ‘it’s what makes me good at HR.’
‘Absolutely, among other things.’ He smiled, a proper one, not just a little quirk of his lips, revealing a dimple in one cheek. She’d forgotten about that dimple, forgotten when Jason smiled properly his eyes turned the colour of honey. They were normally brown, just as his hair was brown. Brown and boring. Except when he smiled. Abruptly, Emily turned back to the table. She could tell Jason was watching her, felt his assessing gaze sweep over her. Strange, how you could feel someone watching you.
‘Are you planning Stephanie’s wedding, as well?’ he asked now. ‘Some big fancy do?’
Emily turned around, brushing another unruly strand of hair from her eyes. ‘The wedding? Heavens, no. That’s far above my capabilities. And she’s having it back home where she grew up.’
‘But you’ll be there, won’t you? Maid of honour, I suppose?’
‘As a matter of fact, yes.’
Jason’s smile deepened, and so did his dimple. Something flashed in his eyes, something dark and unsettling. ‘And you’ll dance, won’t you? At the wedding?’ His voice had dipped to a husky murmur, a tone Emily didn’t think she’d ever heard him use before, a tone that brushed across her senses with a shiver. She frowned, then froze as she realised just what Jason was alluding to with that little murmured remark… . Jack and Isobel’s wedding, when they’d danced, and she had been seventeen years old and very, very silly. In the seven years since that episode had occurred, Jason had never mentioned it. Neither had she. She’d assumed he’d forgotten it—just as she had. Almost … until now. Now it was suddenly taking up far too much space in her brain.
‘Of course,’ she said after a moment, her voice light. She decided to ignore any implication he might have been making. They hardly needed to talk about that unfortunate episode now. ‘I love to dance.’ She glanced at him again and, despite her now almost twenty-five years, she felt every inch the gauche girl she’d been at that wedding. She’d made such a fool of herself, but at least she could laugh about it now. She would laugh about it.
‘I know,’ Jason said, his voice still no more than a murmur. ‘I remember how we danced.’ The corner of his mouth quirked up again, only for a second, as his gaze held hers. His eyes really were the most amazing colour … like whisky, or chocolate, but with golden glints… . ‘Don’t you?’ he pressed, a lilt of challenge in his voice.
So he was going to mention it—and make her mention it, as well. From that knowing glint in his eyes, he intended to tease her about it, although why he’d waited seven years to do so, Emily had no idea. She smiled wryly, determined to ride it out. ‘Ah, yes. How could I forget?’ Jason didn’t say anything, and Emily shook her head, rolling her eyes as if it was no more than an amusing little anecdote. It was a silly enough episode, seven years in the past, and surely it had no power to embarrass her now, even if she’d been mortified at the time.
It was just, Emily told herself, that they’d never talked about it, not when he’d hired her, not when he’d kissed her cheek at their niece’s baptism, nor when he’d sat at the far end of the table at Christmas dinner. On all of those occasions he’d remained rather remote, and only now was Emily realising how glad she’d been to retain that little distance. Yet here he was now, standing so close, bringing up all these memories, and behaving in a very un-Jasonlike way. It unnerved her.

She let out a light little laugh and gave him a self-mocking smile. ‘I made quite an idiot of myself over you.’
Jason arched an eyebrow. ‘Is that how you remember it?’
Of course he wouldn’t make it easy for her. He never did. Not when she was six, not when she was seventeen, and not even now she was almost twenty-five. She should be used to his lightly mocking smiles, the eloquent arch of a single eyebrow, but somehow with the distance in their professional relationship she’d forgotten. She’d forgotten how much he could affect her.
‘You don’t remember?’ she asked, pretending to shudder. ‘That’s a relief, I suppose.’
Jason didn’t speak for a moment, and Emily busied herself with organising the dirty cutlery into a tidy pile. ‘I remember,’ he finally said, quietly, without any humour at all, and she felt a strange, icy thrill all the way down her spine.
And suddenly, without either of them saying anything more, Emily felt as if that memory was right there with them, living and breathing and taking all the air. She certainly remembered it, could feel even now how young and happy she’d been—and so very silly.
Jason had asked her to dance, the obvious and polite thing to do since he was the brother of the groom and she the sister of the bride. He’d been a worldly twenty-nine to her naive seventeen years, and she’d been breathless and giddy from three glasses of champagne when he’d taken her in his arms and led her in a gentle and unthreatening waltz. It had been a dance of duty, and Emily had known it for what it was—she hadn’t even wanted to dance with boring Jason Kingsley in the first place. All he’d ever really done was tease her or scold her.
Yet somehow, when he’d taken her in his arms, keeping her a safe six inches from his body, she’d felt something else. Something new and tingly and really quite nice, in a disquieting sort of way. She’d been an innocent at seventeen, and had never felt that sweet rush before. And so, despite Jason’s serious expression and boring waltz, she’d tipped her head up and smiled at him with as much flirtatious charm as she thought she might ever possess and said, ‘You’re quite handsome, you know.’
Jason had looked down at her, his face so aggravatingly solemn. His expression hadn’t changed one bit. ‘Thank you.’
Somehow Emily didn’t think that was what he was supposed to have said. She wasn’t sure of the script, yet she knew she didn’t like these lines. And yet he had been handsome, with his dark hair and eyes, the white of his smile and the strength of his arms as he held her that proper distance away from his body. She could still feel the heat and strength of him and, fuelled by the champagne fizzing through her veins, Emily had added, ‘Perhaps you’d like to kiss me.’ She’d tilted her pretty little chin up further, and had even had the audacious stupidity to pucker her lips and wait. She’d let her eyelids flutter closed, so suddenly desperate to have him kiss her. It would have been her first kiss, and at that moment she’d wanted it so very much. She’d wanted Jason, which was ridiculous because she’d never once thought of Jason that way—never even considered such a possibility—until he’d asked her to dance.
The moment had gone on too long, several seconds that had made agonising awareness, as well as a punishing sobriety, steal over Emily. She’d opened her eyes and seen Jason gazing down at her in what was almost a glare. His eyes had narrowed, his mouth had tightened, and he hadn’t looked friendly—or boring—at all. All of her flirtatiousness had drained out of her, leaving her as flat and stale as the dregs of her own champagne. She’d almost felt afraid.
Then his expression had changed, the glare wiped clean away, and he’d smiled faintly and said, ‘I would, rather. But I won’t.’ And with that, before the dance had ended or even really started, he’d set her gently and firmly from him and walked off the dance floor.
Emily had stood there for several seconds, unmoving and incredulous. The public humiliation of being left on the dance floor was bad enough, but far worse was the private humiliation of being so summarily rejected by Jason Kingsley. She’d been quite sure, at that moment, that he really wouldn’t want to kiss her. And because she’d been seventeen, tipsy, and it would have been her first kiss, she hadn’t been able to lift her chin and throw her shoulders back and saunter off the dance floor like she’d meant to. Instead she’d stumbled across the parquet, dissolving into drunken tears before she’d even left the ballroom.
Definitely an idiot.
She turned to smile brightly at him now, forcing the memory—and its accompanying mortification—back to the far recesses of her brain. ‘Well, I shan’t ask you to dance again, I promise you,’ she assured him. ‘Never fear.’
A smile flickered across Jason’s face like a wave of water. His gaze rested on her thoughtfully, as if he were taking her measure. ‘But, Em, I was counting on you to ask me to dance.’
Slightly thrown, Emily laughed and replied, ‘Well then, I certainly won’t ask you to kiss me.’
‘Then I shall be especially disappointed,’ Jason returned, his voice soft, and Emily felt shock slice through her, rendering her quite speechless, until she realised that of course Jason was just teasing her, the same as always. Except he’d never teased her quite like that before.
Jason watched as shock widened Emily’s jade-green eyes, her tongue darting out to moisten her lower lip. He felt a sudden jolt of desire at the sight of that innocent little action, and it both surprised and annoyed him. He had no business feeling that way about Emily … again.

He hadn’t even meant to seek her out tonight. He had only a few months to be in London, and spending time with Emily Wood was low down on his list of priorities. In fact, not spending time with her was a priority. He had other more suitable women to pursue. Women who were sensible, level-headed and businesslike, perfect for his purpose. Emily, with her cat’s eyes and teasing smile and endless legs, was definitely not any of those things. Even more importantly, she was off-limits. She’d been off-limits seven years ago, and she was still off-limits now—for more reasons than he cared to name or number.
‘How does it feel to be the Head of Human Resources?’ he asked, determined to move the conversation back to business. ‘Youngest in the post.’
‘Strange,’ Emily admitted. ‘I hope I’m up to the task.’
‘I’m sure you will be.’ He’d watched her grow into her position in HR from afar, and he’d been both surprised and encouraged by the way she’d taken to the role. Her promotion had been a smart business move, even though some—including Emily herself—might think it hinted at nepotism. Jason never let feelings get in the way of business. Or of anything.
‘As for your first duty,’ he told her, ‘there’s a woman I’d like you to interview on Monday, for a receptionist position.’
Emily glanced at him rather sharply. ‘Oh?’ she asked, her tone a bit diffident.
‘Helen Smith. She’s just come to London and could use a bit of help.’
‘A friend of yours?’ Emily asked, her voice sharpening just a little, and Jason suppressed a smile. Sometimes Emily was so easy to read. Could she actually be jealous? Did she still harbour a bit of the adolescent affection she’d shown him seven years ago?
The possibility was intriguing … and dangerous.
He still remembered the moment she’d tilted her pretty face up to his and said, ‘Perhaps you’d like to kiss me.’

And he had wanted to, more than he’d been willing to admit, even to himself.
That sudden, fierce jolt of lust had nearly knocked Jason to his knees. She’d been seventeen, practically a child, completely innocent and utterly naive. The strength of his own response had shocked and shamed him; he’d left the wedding immediately afterwards, near trembling with the aftershocks of surprising and suppressed desire, determined to put Emily completely from his mind.
And he’d accomplished just that, almost forgetting her completely, until three years later when she’d traipsed merrily to London without a plan—or a job—and he’d reluctantly offered her an entry level post.
He remembered how she’d sprawled in the chair across from his desk, her honey-blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, her green cat’s eyes alight with mischief. She’d worn an indecently short miniskirt and a top in a vivid green that matched her eyes; he suspected she considered such an outfit business attire. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her long tanned legs, or the way one foot swung back and forth, a spiked heel dangling from her scarlet-polished toe.
Jason had stood behind his desk, his hands shoved in his pockets, doing his best to appear stern and disapproving. She’d been only twenty at the time and had looked artless and beautiful and so very young. And while he’d managed to forget how Emily had affected him three years ago, it had come back to him then with an overwhelming rush of memory and feeling.
‘You can have me do anything,’ she’d told him. ‘I’m not fussed.’ He’d stood there, looking grim, trying not to let it show on his face just what he could imagine having her do. It had been three years since they’d danced at the wedding, three years when he’d barely seen or thought of her at all, and yet he’d still felt that fierce dart of lust. When she’d leaned forward her hair had swung around her face and he’d smelled the scent of her shampoo. Strawberry.
She’d looked up at him from underneath her lashes, her eyes dancing with amusement. ‘Honestly, Jason, you look positively dire! I’m not that bad, I assure you.’
From somewhere he’d summoned a smile. ‘And whatever I have you do—I assume you want payment for it?’
She’d looked momentarily thrown, her expression unguarded and vulnerable, and with a stab of self-loathing he’d realised again just how young and inexperienced—in every way—she was. Then she’d laughed, a rich, throaty gurgle that had made Jason shove his hands even deeper into his pockets, a scowl marking his face. Emily had the laugh of an experienced woman, a sexy, sultry laugh, and it did things to him. When had she started laughing like that? When had she started to really grow up?
‘Well, yes, that was the idea,’ she said, smiling with that artless honesty that exasperated and endeared her to him at the same time.
And so he’d given her the post, as she’d undoubtedly known he would, and then he’d kept his distance. He’d had no intention of involving himself with an innocent like Emily, especially considering how their families were related. And he’d succeeded … until now. Now, when he’d seen her in the party room, wearing a candy-pink business suit that was so short it nearly showed her bottom when she bent to pick up a bit of rubbish from the floor. He’d stared at her, noticing the long, tanned length of her legs, the way that ridiculously short skirt moulded over her curves.
He should have walked away before she’d seen him. God knew he’d done it before. Yet something had compelled him to come into the room, and he’d spoken. Stayed. Seeing Emily after so long had been like finally finding a drink in the desert. Her warmth and humour had reached out to him, enveloped him and made him want more. And so he’d remained, joked and flirted, and then most damaging and dangerous of all, he’d mentioned that almost-kiss they’d shared seven years ago. Jason could not fathom why he’d done that, when he’d been perfectly happy never to think about it again, much less talk about it.
And surely Emily felt the same way … unless she did still have some vestige of that schoolgirl crush? The thought should alarm him, but it accomplished something else entirely. He wanted to watch her eyes darken to moss and see her tongue swipe at that lush mouth once more.
Annoyance prickled through him yet again. He needed to get a grip. This was Emily. Emily. Inappropriate, unsuitable and off-limits. Full stop.
‘Helen Smith,’ Emily repeated, and Jason could tell she’d recovered her equanimity. ‘I’ll keep an eye out for her CV—’
‘My PA emailed it to you this afternoon.’
‘I see.’ She gave him a quick, curious glance from under her lashes and then turned away. ‘I’ll make a note of it.’
‘Good.’ He was determined to keep the rest of their conversation purely professional, even as his gaze rested on the falling-down chignon of her glorious golden hair, one curling tendril resting on the curve of her breast. Determinedly, Jason yanked his gaze away, his mouth settling into a grim line, yet something still compelled him to add, ‘I’ve never met her, actually. She’s a friend of a friend, and I’d like to help her out. She should be suitable for an entry level position.’ Why on earth was he explaining himself? There was absolutely no need.
‘Fine,’ Emily said briskly. ‘I’ll do what I can.’
‘Good.’ Jason matched her brisk tone and then gave one more glance around the cleaned-up room. He still had several phone calls and emails to answer, as well as a charity fund-raiser to attend. All part of the personal business Emily was so curious about … and which he had no intention of telling her.
She would, he thought with a grim twist of his mouth, find out soon enough.
Jason was looking grim again, which was a good thing, Emily decided. For a few moments there he’d seemed like someone else entirely, and the thought unsettled her. Her reaction had unsettled her even more, because when Jason had dropped his voice to that husky murmur and actually said he’d be disappointed …
Quickly, Emily pulled that train of thought to a screeching halt. Not something she needed to think about. At all. She glanced around the empty room with satisfaction, making sure her gaze was averted from Jason, and then went to turn off the lights.
She hadn’t realised how dark it had become, twilight stealing softly over the city, so that the room was pitched into sudden darkness when she flicked the switch.
‘Oops …’ She laughed a little as she stood there in the dark, conscious how a lack of light made things seem almost … intimate. She could hear the gentle sound of Jason’s breathing, and when she groped for the switch again she came into contact with Jason’s chest instead, a hard wall of muscle that tensed against the flat of her palm. She hadn’t realised he’d come so close. She jerked her hand away as a matter of instinct, even though the feel of that hard wall of muscle seemed to have imprinted itself on her palm. The last thing she wanted was Jason to think she was throwing herself at him … again.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered, yet she still didn’t move. Her brain and body both seemed to have frozen, so she’d become incapable of either thought or action. Her hand tingled. ‘I … I just need to find the light… .’ she finally managed, stammering slightly. Why did Jason always reduce her to the gauchest kind of girl?

‘It’s here.’ Jason reached past her and flicked on the switch. Emily took a hasty step back as the room was cast into unrelieved fluorescent light.
She felt a blush heat her cheeks, which made no sense because surely there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Yet she felt, strangely, as she had seven years ago, when she’d offered herself to him so innocently, only to be rejected.
And Jason was glaring at her again, just as he had then. Really, he looked quite cross. Emily felt a flicker of annoyance and the emotion relieved her. At least it was familiar. She took another step back. ‘Thanks,’ she said briskly, tucking her hair behind her ears. ‘I suppose I’ll see you around, if you’re staying in London for a bit.’
‘Most certainly.’ Jason’s face was expressionless yet his gaze was steady on hers, steady and unsettling. He really didn’t know her any more, she reminded herself. She was completely different and far more experienced now than she’d been at seventeen. A bit more experienced, anyway. And hopefully a little less scatty.
‘I’m sure you have things to do,’ she said in that same brisk, brittle voice. ‘And I must get home. Goodnight, Jason.’ And without looking back, she hurried down the hall to the safety of her office, strangely and annoyingly disconcerted, almost as much as the seventeen-year-old who’d run from the ballroom in tears.

CHAPTER TWO
EMILY gazed at the woman seated across from her desk, noticed how her fingers nervously pleated the rather wrinkled fabric of her cheap black skirt, a cautious smile brightening her lovely features. Helen Smith was a beautiful young woman, a few years younger than Emily, with a cloud of dark hair like a soft halo around her pale face.
‘So.’ Emily smiled encouragingly as she scanned Helen’s scanty CV. ‘You worked as a waitress up in Liverpool …’
‘And I temped for a while in an office,’ Helen offered helpfully. Her voice was soft and lilting. ‘I answered the telephones. Mr Kingsley thought I might do the same here. He said one of your receptionists was on maternity leave.’
Emily wondered—not for the first time—just what Jason’s relationship to the lovely Helen Smith could possibly be. Did she have anything to do with this mysterious personal business? ‘Yes, Sally just had a baby boy.’ Emily returned the CV to her desk; there really wasn’t much to see there. ‘So Mr Kinglsey is right,’ she said with a smile. ‘We have an opening.’
‘He’s a nice man,’ Helen whispered, looking down at her lap. Her hair fell forward, obscuring her face, and Emily wondered if she’d ever seemed this young and … clueless. Probably. She felt a stab of sympathy for Helen Smith even as she glanced at her bitten, ragged nails and worn jumper. She could certainly use a manicure and a makeover.
Could it actually be possible that Jason was interested in Helen? She was beautiful, despite the nails and clothes, although Jason’s dates had always been socialites or starlets. Still, he’d never taken them seriously. Maybe a woman like Helen Smith, lovely and fragile, would capture his heart. Why on earth did she care anyway? Annoyed, Emily turned back to Helen’s scanty CV. ‘He’s a very nice employer,’ she said firmly, and Helen nodded shyly.
‘It was good of him to listen to Richard about me.’
Emily raised her eyebrows, curiosity sharpening inside her. ‘Richard?’
Helen blushed, which made her look lovelier, her cheeks as pink as roses, her complexion like a china doll’s. Emily had never doubted her own basic attractiveness, yet right now she was conscious of her rather round-cheeked, healthful appeal, a bit different from Helen’s fragile loveliness. ‘My … well, he’s just my friend, I suppose. We grew up together, back in Liverpool, and.’ Helen’s blush deepened and she pulled the sleeves of her worn jumper down over her hands, just as Emily remembered doing as an angst-ridden teen. ‘Well, I’m older now,’ Helen continued hesitantly, ‘and Richard thought if I moved to London, and we spent a bit more time together …’ She trailed off, nibbling her lip. ‘Richard said that perhaps—in time—we might make a go of it,’ she finished almost apologetically.
‘He said that?’ Emily asked before she could stop herself. It sounded most unromantic.
Helen stared at her with wide grey eyes that reflected every emotion, including now a woeful uncertainty. ‘Yes … you know, to see if we’re a good fit.’
Like a pair of shoes. Emily suppressed a shudder. She could not imagine anything less appealing. Still, she was hardly one to judge. The two relationships she’d entered into in a spirit of cautious optimism had been, if not disasters, then surely disappointments. She most certainly wasn’t looking for a third. Still, if you were going to have a relationship, surely you wanted something a bit more than what this Richard was offering.
‘Sounds very sensible,’ she said. Too sensible. Where was the romance? The love? There was nothing sensible about either, as far as she was concerned, although she had no firsthand experience. She’d never been in love, not even close, and she doubted it would ever happen. True love matches—like her own mother and father’s—were rare, which was why Emily had been happy to help Steph and Tim along. She’d just about given up finding it for herself. ‘Does Richard work for Kingsley Engineering? ‘ she asked, mentally going through the several hundred employees Jason had on his payroll. There were several Richards.
‘Yes, he’s worked on a project with Mr Kingsley in Africa,’ Helen answered. ‘He just got back.’
Emily nodded, for now she knew just who Helen’s Richard was. Richard Marsden, one of a handful of Jason’s protégés, a solid-looking engineer with an earnest expression, a nervous tic and absolutely no sense of humour. Of course he would suggest such a thing. She could just see him sitting Helen down on his sofa and outlining his five-year plan for their relationship, with accompanying PowerPoint presentation. It all sounded rather dreadful. ‘Well,’ she said diplomatically, ‘it will certainly be nice for you to be able to spend some time with him.’
‘Yes …’ Helen sounded hesitant and, although Emily didn’t blame her, she decided they’d had enough personal conversation. Part of her success in Human Resources was to know both when to employ and to curb the personal aspect of her position. ‘Well, since Mr Kingsley can vouch for you, I’m certainly willing to hire you. We’ll just fill out some forms and then I’ll show you around the reception area.’
Helen beamed. ‘Thank you, Miss Wood.’
‘Please, call me Emily. We’re all friendly here.’
Emily watched as Helen bent her dark head to fill out the forms, a sudden, gentle sort of protectiveness stealing over her. The girl really did seem terribly innocent. She would certainly need someone to look out for her, show her the ropes. And, more importantly, a bit of fun. Clearly Richard wasn’t going to do it.
‘Come on, then,’ she said when Helen had finished the forms. ‘We can grab a coffee before I show you ‘round. You can meet a few people.’ A few people other than Richard Marsden, she added silently.
The rest of her first day as Head of Human Resources passed uneventfully enough, with no more than the usual common complaints and banal paperwork to round out the hire of Helen that morning. She was surprised to find it already past five o’clock and most of her department gone when she finally finished her last email and pressed send.
‘A successful first day, it seems.’
Emily looked up to see Jason standing in her doorway, and she wondered how she could have missed his approach. Her heart certainly gave a sudden, surprising lurch now.
‘Jason, you startled me.’ She smiled up at him, noticing the deeper grooves from his mouth to nose, the faint fanning of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. The African sun had aged him a bit, but it was not unattractive. Jason could certainly carry off a rather dignified look. And he was quite a bit older … he was nearing forty. Time to think of marrying, perhaps. The thought was unsettling, only because she could not imagine Jason with a wife. He would probably pick someone to suit him just like Richard was with Helen. She could just see him compiling some sort of list. Must be handy with an iron, a golf club and a gardening spade… .
‘Yes, it was successful,’ she said, stressing the word lightly. ‘No less than you’d expect, of course.’
‘Of course.’ He strolled into her office. He wore, as usual, a dark suit with a crisp shirt and blue silk tie, a woollen trench coat over one arm. He looked utterly put together and as always a little remote, and yet he seemed somehow different too. Or perhaps she was the one who was different, for she couldn’t quite keep her gaze from roving over him as that citrusy scent of his aftershave assaulted her senses.
She rose from her desk, glad she’d chosen a cherry-red power suit with a fitted jacket and miniskirt for her first day as Head. Admittedly, her skirt was a bit on the short side, and she saw Jason’s gaze flick to her bare legs before his mouth tightened into a faint but familiar line of disapproval.
Feeling a little impish, Emily held one foot out for him to examine. ‘Oh, do you like my shoes?’ she asked, widening her eyes innocently. Today she’d worn a pair of matching red stilettos with diamanté straps. She wasn’t generally that into shoes, but these had been hard to resist. And they matched her suit perfectly.
Jason stared at her stretched-out leg, looking decidedly unimpressed. ‘Very pretty,’ he said after a moment. ‘Although not necessarily work attire.’
‘Well,’ Emily told him, unable to resist the opportunity to bait him just a bit more, ‘I had to liven up this suit somehow.’
For a split second Jason looked positively thunderous, and Emily wondered if he was actually angry. Then he glanced at her, smiling, his eyes lightening to the honey colour she’d seen last night, and he said, ‘Trust me, Emily, your clothes do not need livening up. Now, how about a bite to eat and you can tell me all about your first day?’
Emily blinked in shock. She had been half-expecting Jason to check up on her since it was the first day of her new position, but this? ‘Dinner?’ she repeated rather stupidly, and Jason’s smile widened.
‘That is the idea. Usually, around six o’clock, people like to eat and drink. Sustenance, you know, as well as a social habit.’
Emily’s mouth twitched in a smile. She’d forgotten about Jason’s dry sense of humour. And, despite her surprise at the invitation, she realised she’d like to have dinner with him. She was curious about how he’d changed, and even what this personal business was. And there was something about Jason—something oddly different—that she wanted to understand. Or at least explore. ‘Actually, I’m famished,’ she told him as she reached for her coat. ‘I skipped lunch. So yes, you can treat me to dinner.’
Jason watched as Emily slid a form-fitting trench coat over her already clinging suit. It didn’t even cover her legs. For a coat, it was remarkably revealing. He felt himself frown, already regretting his impulse invitation. He hadn’t even meant to come down to Emily’s office; he had plans that evening, and he’d meant to walk straight outside to his car. Yet somehow he’d taken this little detour, and once he’d seen Emily hold out one perfectly shaped golden leg, her eyes sparkling with laughter, his resolve had crumbled to dust.
He’d kept away from her for seven years; she was nearly twenty-five now. She was experienced, if the social pages were anything to go by, and surely a single evening—a little bit of light flirting—wouldn’t harm anyone. It was just, Jason told himself, an itch he needed to scratch. It wouldn’t go anywhere. It couldn’t. He wouldn’t even kiss her.
Yet already he was reaching for his BlackBerry, and he quickly sent a rather terse text to cancel the rest of his plans for the evening. He clicked the button on his keys to unlock the car, and Emily started in surprise.
‘You own a Porsche?’ she said, clearly surprised.
Jason opened her door, breathing in the strawberry scent of her hair and something else, something warm and feminine that had lust jolting through him yet again. Just dinner. ‘It appears that I do,’ he said, and she rolled her eyes as she slid into the sumptuous leather interior.
‘Quite a nice ride. It’s not what I’d expect at all.’
‘Oh?’ Jason slid into the driver’s seat. ‘I didn’t know you had expectations about my mode of transport.’
‘Yes, but that’s it exactly, isn’t it?’ Emily said with a laugh. She shook her hair back over her shoulders in a golden waterfall. ‘Your “mode of transport". I’d expect something basic and, well, boring for you, just a car to get you from point A to point B. Of course,’ she teased, ‘the colour is a bit dull. Navy-blue doesn’t do it for me, I’m afraid.’
Jason stared at her for a second, utterly nonplussed by her rather brutal assessment of him. Boring? And he’d been thinking she still had a little crush on him. Well, that was him sorted. ‘Boring,’ he repeated musingly as he started the car. ‘And dull. I wonder if I should be offended.’
‘You can hardly be offended by that, Jason!’
Now he really was offended. Most women didn’t think he was boring at all. Most women were eager to spend an evening with him. Yet here Emily sat sprawled in the seat across from him, her skirt riding up on her slim thighs, looking at him as if he were her doddering old uncle whom she had to humour.
Yet she hadn’t looked at him like that last night. He still remembered the brief, enticing touch of her hand on his chest. She’d been startled by the electric current that had suddenly snapped between them; he knew she’d felt it. He certainly had. Now he slid her a sideways glance as he revved the engine, causing Emily to laugh a little as she instinctively grabbed the door handle. ‘Can’t I?’ he murmured.
‘Well, honestly,’ she said once he’d pulled out of the office’s underground car park and begun to drive down Euston Road at quite a sedate speed. ‘You’ve always been—’
‘Boring?’ He heard the slight edge to his voice and strove to temper it. This was not how he’d pictured this evening starting.
‘Well, not boring precisely,’ Emily allowed. ‘But. predictable. Cautious. Steady.’ Jason kept his face expressionless although he felt his brows start to draw together in an instinctive glower. She was actually patronising him. ‘You never took part in the games and scrapes we got into—’
‘By “we” I assume you mean you, Isobel and Jack,’ Jason returned dryly. At Emily’s nod, he continued, ‘You might do well to remember, Em, that you’re twelve years younger than I am. While you were getting into these so-called scrapes, I was in university.’ His hands tightened on the wheel as the difference in their ages struck its necessary blow. Emily might be twenty-five, but she was still young. And in many ways, naive. Innocent, if not utterly, not to mention scatty, silly and far too frivolous. She was entirely wrong for him. Wrong for what he wanted.
Wrong for a wife.
‘Well, of course I know that,’ she said. ‘But, even so … you’ve always been a bit disapproving, Jason. Even of Jack—’
‘You didn’t have to live with him,’ Jason returned, keeping his voice mild. Of course everyone loved Jack. Jack was fun, except when it was Jason fetching him from boarding school after he’d been expelled, or from a party where he’d passed out. Fortunately, Jack had settled down since he’d been married, but Jason still remembered his younger brother’s turbulent teen years. He’d helped him out because their father never would, and Jack had no memories of their mother. He had precious few himself … and the ones he did, he’d sometimes rather forget.
‘Still,’ Emily persisted in that same teasing tone, ‘I remember the lectures you gave me. When I picked a few flowers from your garden, you positively glowered. You terrified me—’
‘By a few flowers you mean all the daffodils.’ They had been his mother’s favourite, and he’d been furious with her for beheading them all, as he remembered.
‘Was it all of them?’ Her eyebrows arched in surprise. ‘Oh, dear. I was a bit of a brat, wasn’t I?’
‘I didn’t want to be the one to say it,’ Jason murmured, and was rewarded with a gurgle of throaty laughter that made him feel as if he’d just stuck his finger in an electric socket. His whole body felt wired, alive and pulsating with pure lust. This evening really had been a mistake. He was playing with fire, and while he could handle a few burns, Emily surely couldn’t. That was why he’d always stayed away, and why he should keep at it. Right now he could have been sitting down to dinner with Patience Felton-Smythe, a boring woman with a horsey face who liked to garden and knit and was on the board of three charities. In short, the kind of woman he intended to marry.
Emily gazed out of the window at the blur of traffic, the streets of London slick with rain. Although it was only the beginning of November, the Christmas lights had already been strung along Regent Street and their lights were streakily reflected on the pavement below.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked as Jason turned onto Brook Street.
‘Claridge’s,’ he said and Emily let out a little laugh.
‘I should have known. Somewhere upscale and respectable and just a little bit stodgy.’
‘Like me?’ Jason filled in as they pulled up to the landmark hotel.
Emily smiled sweetly. She had offended Jason with her offhand remark. ‘You said it, not me.’
‘You didn’t need to. But, in any case, Claridge’s has had a bit of a remake over the years. You might find it’s the same with me.’ He tossed the keys to the valet and came around to help Emily out of the car, his hand strong and firm as he guided her from the low-slung Porsche—not easy to manage in her stiletto heels and short skirt—and continued to hold her hand as he led her into the restaurant. Emily didn’t protest, although she surely should have. There was something comforting and really rather nice about the way his fingers threaded through hers, his grip sure and strong.
It reminded her of when she’d been younger, and no matter what she’d done or where she’d gone, she’d trusted implicitly that Jason would be there to save her. Scold her too, undoubtedly, but she’d always known with him she was safe.
Yet as Jason glanced back at her, his eyes glinting, turning them the colour of dark honey, she had to acknowledge that something about holding Jason’s hand didn’t feel like when she was younger at all. In fact it felt quite different—different enough for a strange new uneasiness to ripple through her, and she smiled and slipped her hand from his as the maître d’ led them to a secluded table in a corner of the iconic restaurant.
‘So what’s the occasion, exactly?’ Emily asked as she opened the menu and began to peruse its offerings.
‘Occasion?’
‘I can’t think the last time you took me out to dinner, if ever.’
Jason’s lips twitched. ‘There’s a first time for everything.’
‘I suppose, but.’ Emily paused, cocking her head as she gazed at Jason; his hair was a little damp and rumpled from the rain and he had an endearingly studious expression on his face as he perused the wine list. She could see the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw, and it made him look surprisingly attractive. Sexy, even, which was ridiculous because she’d never thought of Jason that way—
Except for that once, and that was not going to be repeated.
‘Are you checking up on me?’ she asked, and Jason glanced up from the wine list.
‘Checking up on you? You sound like you have a guilty conscience, Em. Too many parties?’
‘No, it’s just …’ She paused, uncertain how to articulate how odd it was to be here with Jason, almost as if they were on a date. Which was ridiculous, because she knew Jason didn’t think of her that way—hadn’t he proved it on the dance floor seven years ago? Emily was quite sure nothing had changed there.
Except she had changed, of course. She’d grown up and moved long past that silly moment of infatuation with staid, stuffy Jason. And while she was perfectly happy to have dinner with an old family friend, she wasn’t sure she wanted some kind of lecture. Had her father asked Jason to keep an eye on her, now he was back in London for a fair bit? It was quite possible.
‘Just no lectures,’ she said, wagging a finger at him, and Jason shook his head.
‘I think you’re a little too old for lectures, Em. Unless you misbehave, of course.’ There was something almost wicked about Jason’s smile, his eyes glinting in the candlelit dimness of the room, and Emily felt her stomach dip again. He turned back to the menu and she decided she must have imagined that suggestive undercurrent, that little glimpse of wickedness. There was nothing wicked about Jason Kingsley at all. He was the most law-abiding citizen she had ever known.
‘I promise not to,’ she replied, tossing her hair, and Jason beckoned the waiter over to the table to take their orders.
Emily ordered and then glanced around the room as Jason ordered for himself, a low murmur she didn’t really hear. Most of the diners were businessmen making deals, or well-heeled pensioners. This place really was a little stodgy.
‘The chicken? Adventurous, Em,’ Jason said, slanting her an amused look as the waiter left.
Emily gave him her own flippant look right back. She’d been a notoriously picky eater as a child, as Jason undoubtedly remembered. ‘The braised calf livers aren’t to my taste.’
‘Still picky?’
‘Discriminating is the word I’d use. And not as much as you might remember, Jason. I have changed, you know.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’ He paused, his long, supple fingers toying with the stem of his water glass. ‘I suppose,’ he said musingly, ‘there’s quite a bit I don’t know about you now. I’ve been gone, most of the time at least, for so long.’
‘But now you’re back to stay?’
He shrugged. ‘For as long as needed.’
Emily nodded in understanding. ‘On this personal business of yours?’
A frown creased his brow before his expression cleared and he flashed her a quick, knowing smile. ‘Yes.’
She couldn’t help but laugh; he wouldn’t give anything away. He never did, but then she’d never thought Jason had any secrets before. Or at least secrets worth knowing. ‘You’re a man of mystery now, aren’t you?’
‘Rather than boring?’ Jason filled in, one eyebrow arched.
‘I think I hurt your feelings when I said that.’
‘Only a little bit. As retribution, I told the waiter to bring you the calf livers rather than the chicken.’
Her eyes widened as she realised she actually hadn’t heard what he’d ordered. ‘You did not!’
‘No, I didn’t. But you believed me, didn’t you?’ His faint smile, for a second, formed into a fully fledged grin, and the effect of that smile had Emily unsettled yet again. She’d forgotten how white Jason’s teeth were, how the dimple in his cheek deepened… . He really was a handsome man, which was, of course, what had compelled her to flirt with him seven years ago. She would not make the same mistake again.
‘Only because you’ve always told me the truth, no matter how ungracious it is.’
He cocked his head, his gaze sweeping over her in considering assessment. ‘Would you rather I lied?’
Emily thought of times Jason had told her the unvarnished truth when no one else would: when she was fourteen, she’d had a terrible spot on the tip of her nose. She’d been horribly embarrassed, and in a moment of desperation she’d asked Jason if he’d noticed it.
Straight-faced, he’d said,Em, how could I not? But I still like you, spots and all.
And when she’d been fifteen and missing her mother, who’d died when she was only three, she’d asked him if one ever stopped missing one’s mum. She’d never met his mother; she’d died when he was eight years old.
No,he said,you never stop. But it does get easier. Sometimes.
His words had comforted her because she’d known them for truth rather than mere sentiment.
‘No,’ she said now, with her own surprised honesty, ‘I wouldn’t rather you lied. I suppose you need someone in your life who will tell you the truth.’
‘I’ll always do that.’ His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than she expected, so a sudden warmth spread through her limbs, a new unsettling awareness that she could hardly credit. This was Jason. She felt a rush of relief when the sommelier came with the wine and Emily watched as Jason, with that same easy assurance, swilled it in his glass before taking a sip and then nodding his approval. When the man had left, he raised his glass, the deep ruby-red of the wine catching the candlelight, in a toast.
‘To old friends and new beginnings,’ he said, his gaze still lingering, Emily raised her own glass, as well.
‘Hear, hear.’
‘So,’ Jason said once they had each taken a sip of wine, ‘how is Helen getting on?’
‘Ah, I knew there was an ulterior motive to this dinner.’
‘Not at all,’ Jason replied blandly. ‘But, since you interviewed her this morning, I thought I might as well ask.’
‘Well, I hired her as you asked me to. I think she’ll do well enough. She hardly has the experience, though.’
‘I didn’t expect her to.’
Emily raised her eyebrows. ‘A charity case?’
‘Just a kindness,’ Jason replied mildly.
Emily reached for her wine again, suppressing a sharp stab—of something. Whatever uncomfortable emotion was assailing her was not one she wanted to name. ‘She’s quite beautiful, you know.’
‘Actually, I don’t. As you might recall, I told you yesterday that I’d never met her.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Emily pursed her lips. ‘I do recall now. You wanted to hire her as a favour to Richard Marsden.’
Jason cocked his head. ‘I don’t think I mentioned him by name, but yes.’
‘Because,’ Emily continued wryly, but with a little bite to her words, ‘Helen and Richard are going to make a go of it.’
Jason paused, his wine glass halfway to his lips. ‘You sound as if you don’t approve.’
‘Who am I to approve or disapprove?’ Emily replied, her eyebrows arching innocently.
‘It sounds eminently sensible to me,’ Jason said with a brisk reasonableness Emily didn’t like.
‘Oh, yes, very sensible,’ she agreed. ‘Hardly romantic, though.’
‘Romantic?’ Jason frowned. ‘Is it meant to be romantic?’
He sounded so nonplussed that Emily almost wanted to laugh, yet something in her—some deep, hidden well of emotion—kept her from amusement. Instead, she almost felt hurt, which made no sense at all and so she pushed the thought away. ‘Well, in general, Jason,’ she said, as if explaining basic arithmetic to a slightly backward child, ‘the kind of relationship Helen was talking about with Richard is meant to be romantic rather than sensible. You’re hardly choosing a … a pair of shoes when it comes to a girlfriend or even a wife—’
‘I’m a great believer in sensible shoes.’
Emily narrowed her eyes, unable to tell whether Jason was joking or not. She had a feeling he wasn’t. ‘A girl likes to be swept a little bit off her feet, you know.’
‘It sounds dangerous,’ Jason replied, straight-faced. ‘If you’re swept off your feet, you could lose your balance. You might even fall.’
‘Exactly,’ Emily replied. ‘You might fall in love, which is the whole point, isn’t it? Rather than making a go of it.’
He eyed her thoughtfully. ‘You seem to have taken exception to that expression.’
‘I have,’ Emily agreed with a bit more passion than she would have preferred to show. The glass of wine must be going to her head; she’d had hardly anything to eat since breakfast. ‘I’d much rather stay single my whole life than be with someone who asks me to make a go of it,’ she finished, her voice still sounding a little too loud.
‘Duly noted. And are you planning to stay single, then?’
‘As a matter of fact, yes,’ she said, glad to see surprise flash across his features. ‘I’ve no reason to get married.’
‘No reason?’
‘I’m not lonely or unhappy or dying to have children,’ Emily replied with a shrug and a bit more conviction than she actually felt. She didn’t want to admit to Jason that she had no reason to get married because she hadn’t met anyone worth marrying. Worth taking that risk for. ‘I’m not going to wait around for Prince Charming to come and rescue me,’ she declared, her tone starting to sound strident. Jason raised his eyebrows, a small smile playing about his mouth, clearly amused. ‘I want to have fun.’
‘Now that I can believe.’
She made a face at him. ‘What’s wrong with that? There’s plenty of time to settle down.’
‘For you, perhaps.’
‘Oh, yes, I forget how old you are. One foot in the grave already.’ She smiled at him, determined to stay light and teasing although for some reason she was feeling less and less so. ‘In any case,’ she said dismissively, ‘I have friends, a job I love, a niece and nephew to cuddle and a man who adores me.’
Jason stilled. ‘A man who adores you?’ he queried in a tone of polite interest.
Emily couldn’t help but laugh at Jason’s suspicious look. He looked as though he thought she had some sort of toyboy on retainer. ‘My father, of course.’ She eyed him mischievously. ‘Did you think I was talking about someone else?’
‘I wondered,’ he admitted blandly. ‘But since you’ve been wittering on about your determination to stay single, I had to assume we were not talking about a romantic interest.’
‘I wasn’t wittering,’ Emily said with some affront, and Jason raised his eyebrows.
‘I apologise. You were waxing poetically.’
She made a face. ‘That sounds worse.’ To her surprise, she found she was enjoying this little repartee. She leaned forward, a sudden, sharp curiosity making her ask, ‘And what about you, Jason? Any plans to be swept off your feet?’
His mouth quirked upwards, revealing that dimple. ‘I thought I was meant to do the sweeping.’
Emily laughed ruefully in acknowledgement. ‘It sounds as if we’re talking about cleaning a house. Do you intend to marry? Fall in love?’ She’d spoken lightly, yet the question suddenly felt invasive, intimate, and she half-regretted asking it even though she wanted to know the answer. Badly.
Jason rotated his wine glass between his strong brown fingers; the simple action was strangely mesmerising. ‘One does not necessarily require the other,’ he finally said, and Emily felt a bizarre flicker of disappointment.
‘And which would you prefer?’ she asked, keeping her tone light and teasing. ‘Love without marriage, or marriage without love?’
Jason took a sip of wine, his eyes meeting hers over the rim of the glass, his gaze now flat and forbidding. ‘Love, in my opinion, is overrated.’
‘A rather cynical point of view,’ Emily returned after a moment. She felt that flicker of disappointment again, and suppressed it. What did it matter what Jason thought of either love or marriage? ‘What made you decide that?’
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. ‘Experience, I suppose. Anyone can say they love someone. It’s just a bunch of words you can choose to believe or not. They don’t make much difference, in the end.’ He lapsed into a sudden silence, frowning, as if his own words had triggered an unpleasant thought—or memory. Then his expression cleared, as if by force of will, and he glanced up at her, smiling. ‘Much better, in my opinion, to marry and, yes, even make a go of it than witter on about love—or wax poetically, as the case may be.’ His eyes glinted with knowing humour, and Emily conceded the point with a little laugh although she wondered just what experience had made Jason so cynical … and what had made him frown quite like that.
‘Be that as it may,’ she said, ‘a little poetry surely can’t go amiss.’
‘Yet you’ve written off both marriage and love, it would seem?’
Written off seemed a bit strong, but Emily didn’t intend to debate the point. As far as Jason was concerned, written off would do very well indeed. ‘I told you, I’m happy as I am.’
‘Happy to have fun.’
‘Yes.’ She stared at him defiantly. He made fun sound like a naughty word. She knew he thought she was a bit scatty, perhaps even a little wild, and she took a perverse pleasure in confirming his opinion. Even if she still felt that bizarre flicker of hurt.
‘Yet you seem to be interested in finding love and marriage for others,’ Jason noted dryly. ‘Stephanie and Tim being a case in point.’
‘Just because I don’t want it for me doesn’t mean it isn’t right for other people,’ Emily replied breezily. ‘I’m a great believer in love. Just not for myself. Not now, anyway.’ She took a sip of wine, averting her eyes. She wasn’t quite telling Jason the truth, but she had no intention of admitting that she wasn’t looking for love because she didn’t want to be disappointed when it proved impossible to find, or didn’t live up to her expectations. She’d witnessed a love match first-hand—or almost. Even though her mother had died before she had any real memories of her, Emily had heard plenty of stories about Elizabeth Wood; she knew from her father—and his grief—that they had loved each other deeply and forever.
That kind of love didn’t come to everyone. She was afraid it would never come to her. And it was much easier to convince herself—and Jason—that she’d never wanted it in the first place. ‘In any case,’ she continued in an effort to steer the conversation away from such personal matters, ‘we were talking about Richard and Helen. And I think it’s safe to say that I know a bit more about these things than you do.’
‘These things?’
‘What women want when it comes to romance. Love, even. I may not be looking for it myself, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what most women want.’ She’d had enough late-night sessions with friends over a bottle of wine or even just the idle chatter by the coffee machine at work to be quite the expert.
‘Is that right?’ He sounded amused, which annoyed her. She did, in fact, know what she was talking about, much more than Jason ever would. She could just imagine Jason sitting some poor woman down and asking her to make a go of it just like Richard Marsden had. Knowing Jason, he wouldn’t ask; he’d insist. He’d probably propose marriage with a drawn-up business contract in his breast pocket. The thought sent an unreasonable flame of indignation burning through her.
‘Yes, I do,’ she told him firmly. ‘Women want a man who will romance them, Jason. Woo them with flowers and compliments and thoughtfulness and … and lots of other things,’ she finished a bit lamely. The wine was really going to her head; her brain felt rather fuzzy. ‘And what they don’t want is to have someone sit them down and tell them they might be suitable, but first they need a trial period.’
‘I doubt Marsden said it like that.’
‘Close enough. The meaning was clear.’
Jason cocked his head. ‘And you don’t think Helen Smith could tell Marsden just where to put it if she didn’t like his idea?’
Emily let out a reluctant laugh. ‘Perhaps—if she had more backbone. She’s young and impressionable. In any case, another man will surely come and sweep her off her feet while Richard is deciding whether they can make a go of it or not. She’s very beautiful.’
‘So you’ve told me.’ His mouth curved upwards once more. ‘But if you ask me, which I am quite aware you are not, Richard’s suggestion is very sensible. And, in the long run, far more romantic than a bunch of plastic-wrapped bouquets and meaningless compliments. I think he could be just the thing for her.’
‘You make it sound as if Helen has a head cold and Richard is a couple of paracetamol,’ Emily protested, her mind spinning in indignation over Jason’s dismissal of everything she’d just said. Plastic-wrapped bouquets and meaningless compliments! God help the poor woman he decided to approach with his own sensible plan. ‘That’s not what a woman wants out of love or marriage, Jason.’
Jason leaned forward, his eyes alight. They really turned the most amazing colour sometimes, Emily thought a bit dazedly. Almost amber. She swallowed, aware that she probably shouldn’t have had a second glass of wine. And where was their food?
‘But you said you weren’t interested in love or marriage,’ he reminded her softly.
Emily swallowed again. Her throat felt very dry. How had this conversation become so personal and … and intimate? ‘I told you, I’m happy as I am.’
‘With no intention of ever falling in love?’
With no intention of telling Jason any more about her own love life, or lack thereof, Emily amended silently. ‘Perhaps love is overrated,’ she said, throwing his own words back at him. ‘I’ve had two relationships and although I didn’t love either of the men involved, they were still definite disappointments. I’m not interested in searching for something that might never actually happen or even exist.’ Or being hurt when it couldn’t be found or didn’t work out. She thought of her father’s two decades of mourning. No, love wasn’t overrated. But the aftermath might be underestimated.
Jason sat back, seemingly satisfied. ‘Wise words. I quite agree.’
‘So no love or marriage for you?’ Emily said, meaning to tease, yet the question came out a little too serious.
‘I didn’t say that,’ Jason said, and his dark gaze settled on Emily with a frown. ‘I’ll have to marry some time. I need an heir for Weldon, after all.’
Now that sounded positively medieval. She could see Jason arranging some awful marriage with a sour-faced socialite just because she was of good breeding stock. She shuddered. ‘How practical of you,’ she told him. ‘I hope I’m not on your list of candidates.’
Jason’s expression darkened, his brows snapping together rather ferociously. ‘Never fear, Em. You most certainly are not in the running.’
Well, he didn’t have to sound quite so certain, Emily thought, feeling rather miffed by his hasty assurance. Of course they’d make a terrible couple—they were far too different—but did he really have to look as if the thought of marrying her was utterly repellent?
‘Well, that’s a relief, then,’ she said lightly. ‘So what kind of woman are you looking for?’
‘Someone who shares my view on love and marriage.’
‘Someone sensible, then.’
‘Exactly.’
Emily made a face. It all sounded really rather horrible. ‘Not one of the starlets or models you’ve usually had on your arm?’ she said, trying to tease even though she still felt a bit miffed, and perhaps even hurt.
Jason frowned. ‘Those were just dates,’ he said. ‘Not wife material.’
Emily shuddered theatrically. He sounded as if he were talking about a lump of clay, moulded to the shape he preferred. ‘Well, good luck with that,’ she said, her voice sharpening despite her intention to still sound so insouciant.
Jason inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘Thank you.’
Emily smiled back, but inside she found she really didn’t like thinking about Jason and his sensible bride-to-be—whoever she was—at all.

CHAPTER THREE
THE rest of the meal passed pleasantly, and Emily was relieved to have the conversation move on to more innocuous matters. The chicken, although unadventurous, was delicious, and Emily found she enjoyed chatting with Jason about things as seemingly insignificant as the weather or the latest film. She’d forgotten what a dry sense of humour he had, so sometimes it took her a few seconds even to realise he was joking.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/kate-hewitt/mr-and-mischief/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.