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

‘What does it matter to you?’ he demanded roughly. ‘I didn’t think you were a great believer in love anyway.’

‘I do believe in love!’ Emily returned with sudden force. Her voice rose and Jason wished he had thought to have this conversation somewhere more private. She was making a scene. ‘I believe in it very much,’ she continued, her voice thankfully a notch lower. ‘Just because I haven’t found it for myself—’

‘But you’re looking after all?’ Jason enquired. Why was he asking? Why did he care?

Emily looked troubled, and trapped. She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, and the skinny strap of her dress fell down her arm. Her dress had just become a bit more revealing. ‘I’m happy as I am,’ she said firmly, ‘and I don’t have anything against Richard Marsden.’

Jason’s mouth curved in a cool smile. ‘No, indeed, you just find him—let me think—boring. Predictable. Cautious.’

Emily stiffened in surprise, her eyes widening. ‘This isn’t about you, Jason.’

No, it wasn’t, Jason thought savagely. Yet it felt like it was about him, and her rather dire assessment of him that still, stupidly, stung. Deliberately, he reached out and slid the strap back up to her shoulder, his fingers sliding along her skin. Emily jerked in response, and he saw desire flare in her eyes. A feeling of triumph raced through him, headier than champagne, followed by another flash of lust. He smiled. ‘No, of course not,’ he murmured. ‘It’s not about you or me at all.’ His hand lingered on her shoulder, his thumb tracing the arc of her collarbone. Emily had frozen, staring at him in dazed shock, and Jason knew he should remove his hand. He was doing it again. Playing with fire. Yet he just couldn’t seem to stop.

Emily felt as if her mind and body had both frozen, so shocked by the way Jason was touching her. Although that wasn’t quite true; all he’d done was fix her dress strap. No, she was shocked by her own response, the desire coursing through her in a molten flood she had neither expected nor experienced before. And she couldn’t move—or think—or even breathe. The crowds shifted and swirled around them, and she felt as if she and Jason were pinned in place. His thumb stroked her collarbone again, his eyes hard and blazing on hers.

Somehow, slowly, as if she were in quicksand, Emily moved. She took a shaky step backwards, shaking her head with more force than intended or necessary, her champagne sloshing and her hair flying. ‘This argument is pointless,’ she said. ‘Helen is a grown woman and she can do as she likes. And so can Richard—and Philip—and you.’ Jason had dropped his hand and was simply staring at her. Too disconcerted to say anything more, Emily gave him one last pointed look and pivoted on her heel, intent on finding the only safety on offer: the Ladies.

Yet just as she’d entered the empty, quiet corridor that led to the loos, Jason was there, his long strides overtaking Emily’s, so he cut her off from her escape and with the simple turn of his body left her trapped against a wall.

‘Jason—’

His body was close enough that she could feel the heat of him, sense his strength. ‘You’re absolutely right, Emily, Helen can do as she likes. And so can Ellsworth. And Richard. And me.’ She looked up at him, his face alarmingly close to hers. His hair was rumpled and colour slashed his cheekbones. Emily was conscious of his nearness, the very scent of him, the way his chest rose and fell under the crisp whiteness of his shirt. Her mind spun with the sensory overload, blanking as she stared up at him, felt the heat of his body like a pulse against her own.

He braced his hands against the wall on either side of her head so that she was effectively imprisoned, although standing between the strength of his arms did not feel like being trapped. Instead, as her heart started to pound and her cheeks flushed, Emily felt a glorious sense of anticipation that rose up inside her like a bubble, so she felt almost as if she could float right off the ground, anchored only by the heavy thud of her heart. Jason’s gaze remained on her, his eyes the colour of dark honey, and Emily could not look away. From somewhere she found words.

‘Well, of course, Jason, they can all do as they like.’ She looked up at him, felt her lips part in what surely was expectation. Invitation. Her voice lowered to a breathless, husky murmur. ‘And just what is it you’d like to do?’

‘This.’

As he lowered his head to hers, Emily could hardly believe this was happening. He was going to kiss her. Alarmingly. Amazingly. At last.

And then he was kissing her, his lips cool and firm on hers, one hand coming to curve possessively about her waist, his fingers splaying along her hip. With his other hand he touched her cheek, cradling her face in a gesture that was as intimate as the kiss itself and infinitely more tender.

Emily remained frozen under that gentle touch of his lips, too shocked to respond, at least at first. Then her body began to become aware of just how wonderful it felt to be kissed by Jason, every nerve and sinew suddenly, gloriously alive, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of sensation. As Jason gently explored the contours of her lips, his mouth so firm and persuasive on hers, her body clamoured for more and then took control despite the sputtering protests her mind still insisted on making.

This is Jason—Jason! He can’t be kissing me. He can’t want to kiss me …

Her body was defiant; Emily found she was taking hold of Jason’s shoulders, almost as if she meant to push him away, except of course she didn’t. Instead, her hands slid from his shoulders to his head, her fingers threading through the crisp softness of his hair as her mouth opened under his like a flower in the sun and the gentle touch of his tongue to hers sent her body spinning into a deeper whirlpool of sudden, intense feeling.

Yet Jason did not deepen the kiss further and, even as she pressed closer, her hips bumping his, she became aware of his restraint. He did not pull her closer; he did not move at all and as her brain came up to speed with her body, Emily realised this kiss was not a kiss of passion, but one of proof. Jason was proving something to her; he was telling her something with this kiss, and Emily wasn’t sure it was anything she wanted to hear.

Yet before she could pull away in appalled indignation, which was what she intended, Jason broke the kiss and stepped away with his own cool little smile. Emily stared at him, her chest heaving, her lips tingling.

‘What was that for?’ she demanded in a raw voice.

He looked nonplussed for a tiny beat before his lips curved wider in a satisfied smile. ‘Does there need to be a purpose?’

Emily had no answer, because now that her body had stopped its restless clamour—although it still ached—her mind had taken over, spinning out incoherent protests, impossible ideas.

‘Very well,’ Jason said coolly, his voice edged with impatience. ‘Then this. Now you know I’m not boring … and neither is Richard Marsden.’

‘And a kiss is meant to convince me of that?’ Emily scoffed, which would have been a lot more believable if her voice hadn’t wobbled.

‘Considering how much you enjoyed it,’ Jason replied, his gaze sweeping over her flushed face and heaving chest with knowing assessment, ‘yes.’

‘I didn’t—’ Emily protested uselessly, for it was surely a lie and Jason was already walking away from her.

Jason stalked away from Emily, furious with himself for losing his self-control. For kissing her. And yet his body wanted—demanded—more, and he was both aggravated and amazed by how that one simple kiss had affected him so much. Affected her as well, to both his satisfaction and shame.

‘Jason, where have you been?’ Eyebrows arched, too elegant to look annoyed, Margaret Denton glided up to him, one thin hand on his arm, her nails biting into his flesh. The smile she gave him was both imperious and reproving, and annoyed him all the more. She smiled as if she were his mother, as if she already owned him.

And this was a woman he was considering for his wife?

Not any more.

Carefully, Jason detached his arm from Margaret’s biting grasp. ‘I’m sorry, Margaret, I had business to attend to.’ She pursed her lips, unimpressed, and Jason’s gaze settled on the woman across the ballroom who stood alone, watching the crowds with a lonely longing. ‘Excuse me,’ he told Margaret and, without looking back, he headed across the ballroom.

‘Mr Kingsley!’ Helen Smith looked at him in both surprise and more than a little relief. How long had she been standing alone? Jason wondered. How long had it taken Ellsworth to ditch her?

‘Good evening, Helen. I hope you’re having a good time?’

‘Oh … yes.’ She smiled, but he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. This kind of crowd was far from her own experience, and standing alone like a wallflower had to be a miserable introduction to it.

‘I wonder if you could do me a favour,’ Jason said, and Helen nodded, her eyes wide.

‘Of … of course—’

‘Emily wasn’t feeling all that well, and I believe she’s gone to the Ladies. Would you mind checking on her?’ He glanced at his watch as if he cared what time it was. ‘I’m afraid I have to run.’

‘Of course, Mr Kingsley—’

Smiling his thanks, Jason turned to leave the ballroom

behind. He’d done enough damage for one night.

Emily stood in the elegantly upholstered ladies’ room, gazing at her shocked reflection in the gilt mirror. Her face was flushed, her lips reddened, her hair a tousled mess. She looked as if that one kiss—just one kiss!—had utterly affected her, changed her, and in some ways it had.

Jason Kingsley had kissed her. Why? What had he been hoping to accomplish? He’d certainly never expressed any interest in kissing her before—and after he’d kissed her he’d stepped away so easily, giving her such a cool little smile.

Emily felt her stomach lurch in panicked protest. He wasn’t interested in kissing her at all. He hadn’t been affected like she was, even now, her face flushed and her mind spinning in dazed, dizzying circles.

The door to the ladies’ room opened and Helen slipped in, frowning in hesitant concern. ‘Emily—are you all right?’

Emily pushed her hair behind her ears and lifted her chin. ‘Of course. Why shouldn’t I be?’

‘It’s just that Mr Kingsley said you were in the Ladies and I ought to check on you—’

‘Jason worries too much,’ Emily said with a laugh that sounded just a bit brittle. It both stung and soothed her that Jason had thought it necessary to send someone to check on her. It was considerate—and annoying. He’d probably been trying to detach Helen from Philip, and this was simply an excuse. ‘Honestly, I’m fine. The noise is giving me a bit of a headache, that’s all.’ She ran some water over her wrists and then quite deliberately took her lipstick from her handbag and reapplied it, her gaze fixed firmly on her own reflection. Her blush had faded, she saw, and her lips did not look so swollen. Slipping the lipstick back into her bag, she turned to Helen. ‘There. Shall we go back out?’ Helen nodded and Emily smiled, her equanimity almost restored as she led the way back to the ballroom. ‘Philip Ellsworth is very nice, isn’t he?’ she said, and from the corner of her eye she saw Helen blush and felt another little stab of satisfaction.

Take that, Jason Kingsley, she thought and, smiling, reached for another glass of champagne. She glanced around the ballroom, instinctively seeking out that tall, purposeful figure but she could tell from the emptiness she felt inside that Jason had already gone.

Emily kept her thoughts from Jason—and that kiss—for the rest of the evening. She was on full form, sparkling and chatting and posing for photographs until well after midnight, when common sense finally told her she—as well as Helen—had to return to work tomorrow, so they might as well call it a night.

Yet, alone in her flat, the rooms all dark around her, she found the memory of Jason’s kiss came rushing back to her, overwhelming her senses and making her ache deep inside in a way she didn’t like but recognised as the onslaught of unfulfilled desire.

Why had Jason kissed her? Why had it stirred up this longing and need inside of her, when surely it couldn’t be sated? She couldn’t. Not by Jason, for that kiss—that little kiss—had been nothing more than a proof, a punishment for pushing Helen and Philip together.

The more Emily considered it, the more she felt, like a leaden lump in the pit of her stomach, that she was right. Jason had not kissed her out of desire or attraction or anything like that. He’d kissed her to prove something to her, simply because he could. The thought sent a blush firing Emily’s body and scorching her face, even in the empty darkness of her own flat. She was reminded, painfully, of Jason’s rejection on the dance floor seven years ago. She’d so desperately wanted to prove to him—and herself—how beyond that moment she was, how grown-up and sophisticated and worldly she’d become, but she’d done the opposite. Now, with the aftermath of that kiss sending a riot of ricocheting emotions through her, Emily realised she wasn’t sophisticated at all. at least not when it came to Jason. With Jason she would forever be an adoring, annoying little girl, and she’d never felt so more than now.

Jason stared at the social pages of the newspaper that his PA had laid out with other relevant articles. Tumbled, golden curls, a tiny silver scrap of a dress. Three separate photographs, each one more damning than the last. He scanned the captions: Emily Wood dazzles the fund-raising scene in an exclusively designed dress … Emily Wood and unidentified guest toast their evening … Emily Wood and Philip Ellsworth dance together at last night’s charity gala.

With a grimace of disgust, Jason pushed the pages away. He didn’t need to see any more photographs. He’d already been convinced that as charming as Emily was, as desirable as he knew her to be, she could also be silly, scatty and most unsuitable. He had no business expressing any interest in her at all. No business kissing her.

She was not wife material. Not even close.

So why couldn’t he get her out of his mind? Why couldn’t he forget that kiss?

Why did he want more?

He’d returned to London for the express purpose of finding a wife. With his father’s health failing, it had become all the more urgent. He had no time to waste with Emily Wood, and yet he was honest enough to realise he had trouble resisting her. His self-control had deserted him, his willpower at an alltime low. How he’d managed to keep his distance from Emily for seven years he had no idea, since he certainly couldn’t seem to manage it any longer.

With another grimace Jason pressed the intercom for his PA. ‘Book my ticket for Nairobi, Eloise,’ he said. ‘I’m going back to Africa after all.’

By the next morning, Emily had pushed the kiss and all its accompanying realisations completely out of her mind. Almost.

He still lingered on the fringes of her consciousness like a mist, and she found herself gazing blankly at her computer while her hand went inadvertently to touch her lips, remembering the touch of his mouth against hers, how firmly his lips had moved over hers, that thrilling touch of his tongue and the very taste of him—

Stop. She had to stop. Yet, despite her determination not to, she spent the entire morning in a state of high tension, waiting to see Jason, preparing herself for the pointed barbs he would no doubt direct her way. Yet he did not stop by her office and despite her half-dozen forays to the lobby—to check on Helen, of course—she did not see him enter the building. At lunch his PA informed her that Jason was out of the office for a few days, preparing for another trip to Africa.

‘I thought he was back for a while,’ Emily said, hating that she actually sounded disappointed. ‘A few months, at least.’

The PA, Eloise, shrugged. ‘An emergency came up.’

Emily stopped by Helen’s desk on the way back upstairs. ‘Richard’s going off to Africa again?’ she said, and Helen nodded, her expression downcast.

‘Yes, it’s very important, he said. Just a week, though, this time.’

‘Well, that’s good, then,’ Emily said after a moment. ‘Did you have fun last night?’

‘Yes—’ Helen smiled rather shyly, and Emily smiled back in encouragement, sensing the younger woman wanted to say something more. ‘Philip is very nice,’ she finally admitted in a whisper, and Emily felt a thrill of triumph—as well as trepidation. Suddenly she was glad Jason wasn’t in the office today.

‘He is,’ she said after a second’s pause. ‘Perhaps you’ll see him again.’

‘Do you think?’ Helen’s face lit up even as she chewed her lip nervously. Emily felt another flicker of trepidation. Philip really was charming, she told herself. Yes, he moved in a fast crowd, but he was always unfailingly polite—if a little smooth—and she’d never heard anything that bad about him. Helen, with her sweetness and innocence, could be perfect for him. Surely there was nothing wrong with enabling them to spend a little time together.

With another smile directed at Helen, she headed back up to her office. Work took up too much of her time to think about Jason, or anyone else for that matter. When the phone rang at the end of the day, she was surprised to hear Philip’s plummy tone.

‘Philip! You’ve never rung me at work before.’

‘There’s a first time for everything.’

Emily leaned back in her chair, anticipation racing through her. Philip had never rung her before at all, and there could only be one reason—one person—why he would do so now. ‘So what’s the occasion?’ she asked.

‘No occasion. I have spare theatre tickets and, after seeing you and your lovely companion last night, I thought you might want to go with me.’

‘The theatre? I’m sure that would be lovely.’ Of course he didn’t know Helen well enough to ask her alone, Emily thought, her excitement mounting. She was the perfect cover. He really was interested in Helen. After making arrangements with Philip, she disconnected the call and hurried downstairs to tell Helen the news.

Several hours later they were having drinks in the theatre bar, waiting for the curtain. Philip was charming as always, and had even kissed Helen’s cheek when he’d seen her. Emily stepped away so she was on the other side of the little table, and Philip and Helen sat next to each other on tall stools. Philip, Emily decided firmly, would be just the right man for Helen. He’d wine her and dine her and sweep her off her feet, just as she deserved. And Emily could show Jason how wrong he was. Now that thought was immensely satisfying. All it would take was a little nudge in the right direction.

For a moment Emily felt a ripple of concern for the hapless and absent Richard. She really didn’t have anything against him, did she? No, of course not. If Richard wanted to be with Helen, he could certainly make a bit more effort. Perhaps Philip’s attention towards Helen would motivate him. Or. She glanced at the pair across from her; Philip was tucking a tendril of hair behind Helen’s ear while she ducked her head and blushed. Or Philip and Helen could fall in love and live happily ever after, the way it was supposed to happen. The way her parents had, until her mother had died.

The way she wanted for herself, even if she’d told Jason otherwise. Even if she was afraid that she’d never find that kind of man, that kind of love.

The bell rang, and Emily stood up from the table. The show was about to begin.

Emily’s mood remained buoyant throughout the evening and all the way home. Philip had suggested they all share a cab, but Emily had insisted she could walk and left the two of them speeding away in the darkness. She imagined telling Jason the news that Philip and Helen were together, even engaged. She pictured the huge wedding, hundreds of guests. Perhaps she’d even be bridesmaid. She’d wear something understated, and look modest and quietly proud—

Chuckling softly at her own flight of fancy, Emily let herself into her flat. Her mobile phone buzzed with a message and Emily flipped it open as she shed her coat and kicked off her heels. There were two messages which she’d missed while at the theatre: one from her sister, asking her if she was coming to Surrey for Christmas, and then another from Stephanie, reminding her of the rehearsal dinner for her wedding in two weeks’ time. Emily could hardly believe the wedding was so soon. She wondered if Jason would be attending, and then quickly banished that thought. It hardly mattered anyway.

Emily was dying to know how the evening turned out for Philip and Helen, and she finally got the low-down when she stopped by reception on the way to lunch the next day. Helen was getting ready to leave for an afternoon appointment at the dentist’s and they walked out together into the brisk November afternoon.

‘So …’ was all Emily needed to say for Helen to launch into a hesitant yet happy description of Philip and all his charms.

‘He’s so gorgeous, isn’t he?’ Helen said with a sigh. ‘And he says the funniest things … and he looks at me as if he likes me.’ She paused, nibbling her lip, her lashes sweeping downward for a moment before she looked up anxiously at Emily. ‘He looks at me and I go all tingly. I feel so alive. Have you ever felt like that?’

‘Alive?’ Emily repeated dryly. ‘Yes, I think so.’

‘I meant—’

‘I know,’ Emily said quickly, suppressing a pang of remorse at her rather facetious reply. ‘And to tell you the truth, Helen, I’ve never felt like that with a man.’ She thought briefly of Jason’s kiss, and hurriedly suppressed the memory. Her two dismal attempts at a relationship hardly counted either. No, love looked set to pass her by, and that was fine. Hearing about it from Helen was good enough. Almost, anyway. She smiled down at her. ‘So what you’ve got must be special.’

‘Do you think so?’ Helen asked. ‘Do you think he likes me?’

Emily thought of the way Philip had sat next to Helen, had brushed her hair away from her face, had slid next to her in the cab, their thighs touching. ‘I’m sure of it,’ she said.

‘Richard will be so disappointed,’ Helen said quietly. ‘We were meant to use this time to get to know one another—to see if we suit—’

‘And obviously you don’t,’ Emily replied briskly. ‘If he’d wanted to be with you so much, he should have asked you out. Sent you flowers—’

‘He did give me a house plant,’ Helen said quickly, and Emily only just kept herself from rolling her eyes.

‘How very nice of him,’ she said. ‘Still, it’s not your fault if you don’t … suit. And since Philip is here and Richard isn’t …’

‘He leaves for Africa tomorrow,’ Helen said in a low voice. ‘I should tell him, I know, but …’ She nibbled her lip again and Emily smiled kindly.

‘But?’

‘We’ve been friends for so long,’ Helen said. She sounded miserable. ‘And Richard really is a nice man—’

‘Of course he is. But you don’t date—or marry—someone just because he’s nice. I think you need a bit more than that, Helen. You deserve it.’

‘Do I?’

‘Yes,’ she told her firmly, ‘you do.’ Every woman did. Helen was just one of the lucky ones who might actually get it.

Helen nodded, accepting, and Emily waved her off to her dentist’s appointment, expansively offering to let her take the rest of the afternoon off. ‘I know what that novocaine can do to you. You’d be lisping into the phone!’

‘I should be back by four,’ Helen said. ‘I don’t want to leave Jane in the lurch. And actually I kind of enjoy the work now.’ Smiling with a new self-confidence, Helen headed down the street. Emily watched her, feeling proud of Helen and all she’d accomplished, and yet … she could not keep a strange, empty feeling from rattling around inside her. She felt a little forlorn, a little lonely, as she headed up to her office. She knew she should be happy for Helen, and she was, of course she was. Yet as she sank into her chair she also realised she felt a bit adrift herself. She had since Jason had kissed her and scattered all her certainties. I’m happy as I am.