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

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.

‘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

than that. Her body fitted close to his, her legs entwined with his.

Jason called a halt to that line of thinking, pleasurable as it was. No matter what her age now, Emily was still off-limits. He’d told her the truth when he’d said she was not on his list of candidates for a wife. He’d returned to London on very personal business, and that was the matter of finding someone to marry. He was thirty-seven years old and his father’s health had begun to fail. He needed an heir. Emily might think that was awful and archaic, but Jason preferred to see it as practical.

Practical and without the kind of emotional expectations that had made his own mother miserable, and his father a widower. Love wasn’t just overrated, it was inadvisable. Fraught with disappointment and danger, which was why Jason chose to avoid it altogether … as would his wife. No meaningless words, useless gestures, nameless disappointments. Just mutual respect and affection, the most solid basis for a lasting union.

What was not practical was envisioning Emily Wood in that role. Scatty, silly, teasing and tempting Emily Wood. Spoiled darling of the social pages, not to mention her father. Looking for love, even if she didn’t realise it. Hell, she was arranging it for other people.

She was not remotely suitable to be his convenient, carefully chosen wife.

And she thought he was boring.

He laughed aloud, the sound rueful, as he acknowledged just how much Emily’s careless remark had annoyed him. He really had thought she was still a little besotted with him, and the fact that she wasn’t made him realise the extent of his own foolish arrogance. Although she hadn’t thought he was boring when he’d touched her. He’d heard that slight indrawn breath, felt the crackle between them. Emily had definitely not been bored then.

And he’d barely been able to keep himself from cupping her face and drawing those lush lips towards his for the kiss he’d long denied himself.

And would continue denying himself, even if he longed to prove to Emily just how exciting he could be. He was in the business of finding a wife, not a lover. And despite the lust that still fired his body, he knew Emily could never be either.

CHAPTER FOUR

EMILY woke up with a vicious headache, which did not endear her to anyone, including Jason. She still had a vague sense of unease from their dinner last night, although she could not articulate why. It had been kind of Jason to take her out and, since she could be a bit more rational about things in the cold light of morning, she was honest enough to acknowledge that it was perfectly right and fair for Jason to be checking up on her. She’d expected it, years ago, and had been surprised and even a little hurt when he’d left so abruptly after he’d hired her. So why should it bother her now?

That part of their conversation, Emily acknowledged, didn’t bother her. No, it was the other, hidden part, the way his eyes had glinted so knowingly and his mouth had quirked up at the corners and he’d murmured in that low hum of a voice that made her feel as if she wasn’t with Jason at all, at least not the Jason she knew and depended on and sometimes—often—was irritated with, the Jason who teased and scolded and kept her in line. She was with a different Jason, someone she wondered whether she knew at all.

It was most unsettling.

Emily pushed that Jason out of her mind as she hurried to dress for work. Her headache had made her slow and after popping a few paracetamol she quickly dressed, grabbed her bag and hurried out of her flat.

She was looking forward to seeing Helen again, who was reporting to HR to start her first day at nine o’clock sharp. Helen was already waiting when Emily arrived, wincing slightly at the bright office light, at five minutes after nine.

‘Sorry … a bit of a slow morning.’

‘Oh, it’s all right,’ Helen said quickly. ‘It’s just so good to be here.’ She smiled, a faint blush tinging her cheeks. ‘I am a bit nervous, though,’ she admitted.

‘I’m sure you’ll be fine,’ Emily assured her as she put her things away and reached for Helen’s paperwork. ‘Come on then, let’s get you sorted.’

Fifteen minutes later, Helen was seated comfortably at the front reception area, with Jane, the other, more senior receptionist, showing her how to work the bank of blinking telephones. There had been a push a few years ago to move to a more modern automated system of taking calls, but Jason had refused, and Emily could guess why. Two receptionists would be out of jobs. Besides, she supposed he was a bit old-fashioned that way, and the personal touch of a real human voice on the other end of the line was always appreciated. It was one of the many things that made Kingsley Engineering head and shoulders above other engineering firms, and Jason Kingsley a wealthy man.

Now Emily watched as Helen’s eyes rounded at the seemingly complicated system of buttons and switches, her expression glazing over as Jane explained how to hold a call while answering another one, and then reeled off a list of employees who never liked to take calls, and other ones who preferred to be interrupted.

‘Goodness,’ Helen murmured. She’d been writing down what Jane was saying, but had abandoned the effort midlist and simply stared around her in what looked to Emily like growing dismay. It reminded Emily of how she’d felt—and probably looked—when she’d started in HR, with Steph explaining a filing system that had been alarming in its complexity.

‘Don’t worry,’ she told Helen, squeezing her shoulder. ‘You’ll get the hang of it in no time. I know it seems overwhelming at first, but it just takes a few calls before it’s easy peasy.’

‘Easy peasy,’ Helen repeated, as if reassuring herself.

‘I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you,’ Emily promised. ‘And take you out to lunch.’ She wasn’t going to make the mistake of skipping lunch again, she thought, even as she acknowledged that Jason wasn’t likely to ask her to dinner two nights in a row.

She hadn’t seen him this morning, which was hardly surprising, yet she still felt a tense expectation prickling between her shoulder blades as she took Helen down to reception. It wasn’t until she saw Jason come through the front doors of the building that the tension eased and her shoulders relaxed, making Emily realise just what had been causing it in the first place.

‘Ah, you must be Helen,’ he said, smiling easily as he held a hand out to shake, and Helen’s blush deepened so she looked truly lovely, all cream and roses.

‘It’s so nice to meet you, Mr Kingsley.’

‘The pleasure is all mine,’ Jason assured her, and his voice had that low, steady thrum that reminded Emily of how he’d been with her last night, how it had made her feel, and she stepped forward, smiling brightly.

‘I’ve just been showing Helen the ropes. But I’m sure she’ll be running rings around Jane within hours!’ Emily smiled conspiratorially at Jane to let her know this wouldn’t quite be the case, and Jason turned from Helen to Emily, his gaze resting on her with that quiet sense of assurance that still, after all these years, had the power to unnerve her.