Highly Unsuitable: Mr and Mischief / The Darkest of Secrets / The Undoing of de Luca

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.’