Mr and Mischief (5 page)

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.

T
HE
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.

‘Will you miss travelling?’ she asked as the waiter cleared their plates. ‘Since you’re planning to be in London for a time.’

‘I’ll have other things to occupy me,’ Jason replied easily.

Emily pursed her lips. ‘This personal business.’

‘You’re quite curious about that.’

‘Only because I can’t imagine what it is. You’ve always been such an open book, Jason. No secrets. No surprises.’

Jason drummed his fingers on the table. He had rather nice fingers, Emily thought distractedly. Long and tapered. She’d been noticing them all evening. ‘Boring again.’

‘I really did insult you with that!’ She laughed as Jason pulled a face.

‘I never realised you thought me so stodgy,’ he replied as he poured her another glass of wine.

‘I shouldn’t drink that,’ she protested. ‘I’m already feeling a bit tipsy.’ Tipsy enough to have admitted it, as well.

Jason’s lips curved in a knowing smile. ‘And I recall that you say some quite interesting things when you’ve had a glass or two too many.’

Emily felt herself flush, for she knew just what Jason was referring to.
You’re quite handsome, you know. Perhaps you’d like to kiss me.
Yet again he’d referenced that evening, that single dance when, buoyed by champagne and her own youthful naivety, she’d offered herself to him. Why did he keep mentioning it? Did he think it some great joke?

‘Don’t,’ she said, trying to still sound light and teasing, and yet not quite pulling it off. She found she couldn’t pretend it was all a joke, as she had the other day. Somehow, in the quiet candlelight, with Jason holding her gaze over the table, she couldn’t summon that light, airy insouciance that she always covered herself with, almost like armour. ‘I’m a bit sensitive about that,’ she managed lightly and Jason sat back, his expression turning speculative.

‘Why?’

Emily choked back a startled laugh. ‘Because you humiliated me, that’s why!’

Jason stared at her, his expression so utterly nonplussed that once again Emily was torn between laughter and a strange sense of hurt. ‘I humiliated you?’ he repeated, his tone quietly incredulous. ‘Sorry, Em, but I don’t quite see how that happened.’

She shook her head, refusing to discuss it. They’d gone over it once already, and it really was time to relegate that episode to the dim and dusty past. ‘Never mind. It hardly matters, Jason. It was seven years ago. I was practically a child.’

‘I know,’ he said, so softly Emily almost didn’t hear him. ‘I was quite aware of that at the time.’

Discomfited again, Emily said, ‘In any case, we were talking about Helen and Richard.’

‘Is there more to say on that subject?’

‘You might not think so, but as someone newly arrived to London, Helen surely would like to experience all it has to offer and meet a few—’

‘Oh, no, you don’t, Emily.’ Jason put his glass down and looked at her with a certain knowing sharpness that Emily didn’t really like, but at least she recognised it. This was how Jason had always looked at her, how he
was,
and it almost relieved her to have him treating her the same as he always did. Then she could treat him as she always did, and she’d stop feeling so unsettled, so … restless. ‘You aren’t planning to organise Helen, are you?’

‘Organise?’ Emily repeated, widening her eyes.

‘Yes, just as you did with Stephanie. She might have been your work superior and several years older than you, but you had her well in hand within months.’

Emily stared at him in surprise and with a little bit of affront. He made her sound like a bossy know-it-all when she was just
outgoing.
Unlike some people. ‘How would you know?’ she demanded. ‘If I remember correctly, you’d swanned off to Asia at the time.’

‘Swanned off?’ Jason repeated in wry disbelief. ‘I don’t think working twelve hours a day on a flood retention basin in Burma involved any swanning.’

‘How would you know what I was up to?’

Jason shrugged, his face impassive. ‘I have my sources. I know you organised her on a round of dinner parties and drinks outings, and Tim wasn’t your first attempt at a blind date—’

Emily’s mouth dropped open most inelegantly. ‘You’ve been
spying
on me—’

‘Keeping tabs,’ Jason cut across her. ‘I hired you when you came to London, and of course I had a vested interest in making sure you were keeping safe. Especially considering
your father, Isobel and Jack would all have my head if anything happened to you.’

‘Nothing did,’ Emily said a bit sulkily. She didn’t like the thought of Jason knowing what she was up to. Here she’d been thinking to show him how sophisticated and poised she’d become in the last few years, only to discover he’d been keeping an eye on her all along, as if she were some recalcitrant child.

‘In any case,’ Jason continued, ‘my point is that while I’m perfectly happy for you to welcome Helen into the company and even show her around a bit, I draw the line at having her
meet
people or, God help us, involving yourself in any more matchmaking.’

‘So you do admit I had something to do with Steph and Tim!’ Emily said in triumph, and Jason reached for his wine.

‘Undoubtedly, but I’d like you to leave Helen and Richard alone so they
can
make a go of it, if they so choose.’

Emily sighed, rolling her eyes for dramatic effect. ‘Very well. It is quite clear to me that you do not have a romantic bone in your body.’

‘On the contrary,’ Jason replied equably, ‘I think it shows a remarkable sensitivity on my part, that I concern myself with them at all.’ He smiled blandly. ‘You, however, need not concern yourself.’

‘As Head of Human Resources, it’s my responsibility to make sure Helen settles in—’

‘I’m sure Richard has that well in hand.’

‘Ha!’ Emily shook her head. ‘He probably thinks inviting Helen over for some television and takeaway is enough.’

Jason narrowed his eyes. ‘You really do have something against him, don’t you?’

‘No—’ Emily protested, but Jason cut across her.

‘Or is it just more amusing—and easier—to involve yourself in other people’s lives rather than consider your own?’

Emily blinked; the banter had suddenly turned a bit too personal. His accusation hurt. ‘Are you saying I’m a busybody?’

‘I’m giving it to you straight,’ Jason corrected, a small smile barely softening his words. ‘Don’t meddle.’ He signalled for the waiter. ‘And now I think I should take you home.’

Emily was irritatingly aware that Jason had just ended their conversation whether she had something more to say or not. So typical of him, and even though she’d fully intended to show him just how sophisticated and poised she’d become, she still felt like a scolded child in his presence, complete with braces and plaits. She rose from the table as gracefully as she could, well aware that although she wasn’t drunk, she was definitely operating with a little buzz.

‘Thank you for dinner.’

‘The pleasure was all mine.’ Jason’s lips twitched as he gazed at her; Emily knew she probably looked a little sulky. ‘Literally,’ he added.

She felt compelled to say, ‘I don’t meddle.’

‘And I’m not boring,’ Jason whispered, his breath fanning her ear, his hand on the small of her back as he guided her from the restaurant. ‘It seems we have to get to know each other all over again, Em.’

Before Emily could think of a reply, or even untangle just what Jason might have meant, the valet was fetching his Porsche and she was sliding into the leather interior, her head resting against the seat as the world spun dizzily around her. Definitely too much wine.

‘Poor, Em,’ Jason murmured as he pulled away from the kerb. ‘Did you have anything to eat today?’

‘A few crackers at lunch,’ Emily said with a sigh. ‘I’m a notorious lightweight, but even this is a bit much for me.’ She felt her stomach lurch and grimaced.

‘I hope,’ Jason said, ‘you’re not going to be sick all over my car.’

Emily tried to laugh, although the idea was alarmingly possible. ‘If I am,’ she said, ‘it’s because the chicken was off, not because I drank too much.’

Jason laughed softly. ‘Perhaps you should have tried the calf livers.’ He reached over and laid a cool hand on her forehead, his fingers massaging her temples with deft lightness. She inhaled the citrusy tang of his aftershave, felt the graze of his thumb on her cheekbone. The touch managed to both soothe and stimulate her, which made her body feel even more confused. Jason had never touched her like this before; he’d never really touched her at all. ‘Maybe you should close your eyes,’ he suggested.

Emily obeyed, her head resting against the seat as she took a few deep breaths and her stomach finally settled itself. Jason left his hand on her forehead, the pressure cool and comforting. Emily had the bizarre desire to put her hand over his own, to keep his palm there, pressed against her. ‘Sorry,’ she said after a moment, and then added, compelled to honesty, ‘And here I wanted to show you how sophisticated I am.’

‘Sophisticated?’ Belatedly, Emily realised she probably shouldn’t have said that. ‘Sophistication is overrated, Em.’

‘Like love?’ The words slipped out of their own accord. She felt as much as heard Jason’s hesitation.

‘Yes,’ he finally said, removing his hand, and she opened her eyes. Jason had stopped the car, and she saw they were in front of her building. The car suddenly seemed very small and dark and quiet, the only sound their breathing.

Emily curled her fingers around the door handle. ‘Well, goodnight, then,’ she said, her voice a whisper in the dark, and Jason reached for his own door.

‘I’ll see you home.’

Emily fumbled in her bag for her keys, conscious of Jason next to her, looming like a dark shadow. She lived in a block of mansion flats, with separate keys for the front door as well
as the door to her own flat. Now, in her befuddlement, she shoved the wrong key into the door, jamming it uselessly.

‘Here, let me,’ Jason said, and his fingers wrapped around hers as he took the key from her and replaced it with the other, then turned the lock easily and opened the door.

The elegant little foyer was lit only by a small table lamp and in the shadowy light Emily could see Jason’s expression, his gaze solemn and yet somehow intent in a way that unnerved her. This whole evening had unnerved her because even though Jason had, for the most part, acted exactly as she expected him to, authoritative and a little annoying and yet still affectionately, impossibly Jason, he’d been different too. The whole evening had been different and, at this moment, with Jason still gazing at her in that intent,
intense
way, Emily could not articulate even to herself why. She couldn’t think at all.

‘You don’t have to come upstairs,’ she said, and then blushed at what sounded like some kind of ridiculous innuendo. ‘I’m fine—’

‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ Jason said and, after a second’s pause where they simply stared at each other, he lifted his hand, his fingers suspended in air, a whisper away from her face. Emily held her breath, unsure of what he intended or why she felt a strange swooping sensation in her stomach, as if she’d missed a step, or the floor had fallen away completely. Then Jason let his fingers brush her cheek, no more than a whisper of a touch, his fingertips barely trailing her jaw as a smile softened his features. Yet before Emily could even process it or the feel of his fingers on her skin, his expression hardened once more, his brows snapping together as he dropped his hand. ‘Goodnight, Em,’ he said, and then he was gone.

Emily sagged against the stairs, her mind spinning more than

ever before, and this time it had nothing to do with the wine.

Jason slid back into his Porsche, cursing himself for almost kissing her. Or maybe for not kissing her. His body and mind were clearly at war, both seething with unfulfilled desire. This evening had been incredibly enjoyable, and therefore a big mistake. Why was he wasting his time with Emily? It so clearly couldn’t go anywhere. He wouldn’t let it.

And yet still here he was, wanting to be with her because it was so intensely pleasurable to listen to her banter, to hear her throaty laugh, to watch the lamplight pick out the golden glints in her hair. He’d felt vibrantly and vividly alive in her presence, and when she drew close to him he couldn’t keep himself from touching her. Her skin had felt like warm silk.

This time Jason cursed aloud. This was
Emily.
Emily Wood, his nearest neighbour, his sister-in-law, the girl whose plaits he’d tugged and tears he’d wiped. She was a woman now, yes, but she was also scatty and silly and a little bit wild, and a completely inappropriate choice for a wife. As for anything else … that was, if not unimaginable, then impossible.

He could not have a cheap affair or easy fling with Emily Wood. He thought of all the reasons why being with her was a bad, bad idea: their families were related; she was young, more naive than she’d like him to believe; and most importantly, most disastrously, she had ideas about love. Romance. She might not be looking for love or marriage now, but
convenient
and
sensible
were clearly not in her vocabulary. He’d seen the stars in her eyes.

Just as he’d seen the stars in his mother’s eyes wink slowly out. He’d lived with the resulting darkness, and it made him all the more determined to find the kind of wife his father should have had, the kind of wife he needed: convenient, sensible, practical. No romance. No love. No Emily.

Yet still the thought of her slid into his mind with a slyly seductive whisper and he found he could picture having an affair with Emily Wood all too easily. He could quite vividly imagine the silken slide of her lips against his, the heavy
weight of her hair under his hand. And more … much more