Читать книгу Mr and Mischief - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 6

‘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.