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

‘Well, I suppose I should get dressed,’ she said, attempting a brisk tone. Her voice wobbled instead. ‘So I’ll leave you to it.’ She gestured towards his state of half-undress, her face reddening once more. She could feel the heat coming off her. And from Jason. It was all so new, so overwhelming, she felt as if her brain had been short-circuited All she could do was feel. Want.

‘Don’t rush off on my account,’ Jason replied, his words laced with lazy amusement. ‘You obviously wanted to be in my bedroom, Em …’

Emily froze. ‘I was just looking,’ she said stiffly.

‘And you still are,’ Jason replied softly. He’d undone that third button and once more Emily’s gaze was glued to his chest. She knew it, he knew it, and yet she still couldn’t move. That enticing glimpse of hard, sleek muscle and warm brown skin was making her remember how his chest had felt when she’d touched it—by accident—and how she would like to touch it again. Minus the shirt. What would his skin feel like? Warm, cool? Smooth, rough?

‘Really, Jason,’ she managed, finally tearing her gaze away from his chest. It took her a moment to focus on his face. ‘I had no idea you were such a tease.’

‘I’m not,’ he told her, his voice low, and he took a step towards her.

Involuntarily, Emily took a step back. ‘What are you doing?’ she whispered.

Jason gazed at her for a moment, the glint of amusement gone from his eyes. His mouth thinned as he gave a little shake of his head. ‘Terrifying you, apparently—’

‘No—’ Yet she could not deny the wild beat of her heart, the flush of her face. It wasn’t terrifying, but it was something close. She certainly felt. A lot. And it scared her, even as desire raced through her veins, made her dizzy with need.

She wanted this. She wanted Jason. And yet she was afraid, because at least part of her knew that Jason was different, that she would be different with him. Everything would be different, deeper. Dangerous.

‘Go get dressed, Em,’ Jason said, turning away from her. He sounded tired. ‘In another bedroom.’

Emily hesitated, wanting to say something witty and sophisticated. Something sexy. Yet she couldn’t; her brain had frozen. Why did she still have to act so gauche with him?

Because this is Jason and you still feel like you’re silly and giddy and seventeen years old.

‘Fine,’ she whispered and left the room, but not without looking back once, her gaze arrested as she watched Jason shrug out of his shirt, the bronzed muscles of his back rippling with the simple movement. Then his hands went to his belt buckle and she fled.

CHAPTER EIGHT

EMILY watched Jason from the other side of his living room, a glass of wine clutched in her hand. He looked breathtaking in a tuxedo, the elegant cut of his clothing emphasising his powerful frame, the breadth of his shoulders and the trimness of his hips. She hadn’t really noticed either of those attributes before. She took a large gulp of wine.

Yet she had seen him in a tuxedo before. He’d worn one at Isobel’s wedding. Perhaps that was why she’d asked him to kiss her. A man in a tuxedo was hard to resist. Jason was proving hard to resist.

Now that she’d acknowledged just how attracted she was to him, it seemed to be all she could think about. It certainly was all she could feel. And she wondered what could happen—tonight, even—if she let it.

She glanced over to where he stood, leaning against one of the living room’s soaring white pillars. Her gaze remained fixed on the column of his throat and she imagined him undoing that little black bow tie, just like he’d undone his shirt buttons, revealing the warm skin underneath. She had a thing about his neck, apparently. And a few other parts of his body.

And Jason seemed to be thinking the same way about her. The thought caused an icy thrill to race down her spine right out to her fingers and toes. Icy and yet warm at the same time. Hot.

Perhaps she was coming down with a cold.

No, her fever was of an entirely different sort. And if Jason desired her—if he suggested something, how was she going to respond? It all seemed too incredible, too impossible. Any moment he would turn to her with a little smile, a shake of his head, and cluck his tongue.

Oh, Em … you didn’t actually think …

She could, quite possibly, make a complete and utter ass of herself. She had to be careful. But then she’d always been rather careful in matters of the heart. Her heart, anyway. She’d been impulsive enough with Helen’s.

Although Jason hadn’t indicated any interest in her heart, of course. Love was out of the question, and he’d told her he didn’t see her as a suitable candidate for marriage. Not that she was interested. No, this attraction between them was purely physical.

Her gaze returned yet again to Jason; he wasn’t even looking at her. He hadn’t looked at her all evening, and the realisation made her just a little bit annoyed. She was quite sure he was ignoring her—teasing her—on purpose. Sighing, she glanced around the room, checking that everyone was enjoying themselves—although not too much—and her heart sank a little bit when she saw Helen standing by the window, looking lost and forlorn. Emily realised with a little pang of guilt that she’d been so caught up in her lustful thoughts of Jason that she’d completely forgotten about Helen.

‘Everything all right?’ Stephanie came to stand beside her, her arm around her husband’s waist. As former Head of HR, Stephanie was still on the guest list for the exclusive event. She and Tim had returned from their honeymoon only a week ago, and both still had that rapturous glow that made Emily feel both happy and sad—and a bit envious—at the same time. She’d never felt like that, not even close, and although there was nothing precisely missing from her life, standing next to her friend so radiant with joy, made her feel just a little … less than. Like something—or someone—was missing, and she didn’t know what—or who—it was.

Was it Jason?

The question popped so suddenly and slyly into her head that Emily’s mind blanked. How could she have even thought such a thing? What did that even mean? ‘Sorry.’ She turned to Stephanie, blinking as if she could clear the thought from her still-spinning mind. ‘What did you say?’

Stephanie laughed. ‘I just asked how things were. You look a million miles away, Emily!’

‘Yes,’ Emily admitted. She glanced again at Helen, who still stood alone. Stephanie naturally followed her gaze.

‘She looks rather lost, doesn’t she?’ she murmured.

‘Yes.’ Emily shifted uncomfortably. Perhaps inviting Helen to an event like this had been a mistake. Her friendship with Helen had seemed somewhat strained since Philip’s about-face; she didn’t know if it was out of her own sense of guilt or Helen’s hurt. Probably both. ‘I should go and talk to her,’ she said, and excusing herself, started towards Helen, only to be waylaid by Gillian.

‘We’ve run out of wine glasses,’ she hissed. ‘Stupid caterers didn’t bring enough. I can’t ask Jason—’

‘I’ll sort it out,’ Emily soothed. Gillian had been on edge ever since she’d arrived, and Emily assumed it had to do with her daughter’s visit. ‘I’m sure we can borrow some.’ She glanced again at Helen, who was looking more miserable by the minute.

‘People are waiting for their wine.’ Gillian bit her lip and Emily realised just how distressed she was. Gillian swiped angrily at her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, I’m a mess. My daughter—’

‘It’s okay,’ Emily said, squeezing her shoulder. ‘I’ll deal with it.’

It didn’t take more than a few minutes to organise the glasses, and the crowd by the bar gratefully dispersed with drinks in hand. Emily turned to see to Helen and froze in horror. Stephanie had taken the matter into her own hands and was attempting to introduce Helen to the people standing near her. And one of them was Philip Ellsworth.

By the way a sleek blonde was clinging to him, Emily guessed he’d come as her date. She started towards them, wanting to intercede, yet she knew she wasn’t in time. She could already hear Stephanie’s cheerful voice.

‘This is Sylvie, who volunteered for a well-building project last year, didn’t you, Sylvie?’

The blonde nodded, and Emily had to grudgingly concede that, while she clearly had awful taste in men, she did possess an admirable altruistic streak. ‘And this is … ‘ Stephanie glanced at Philip, eyebrows raised enquiringly, and Emily watched with a sinking heart as he smiled rather smugly at Helen.

‘Helen knows who I am,’ he said, and there was enough innuendo in his voice to make Emily cringe. Stephanie looked confused and Helen bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears. She didn’t say anything.

Damn Philip Ellsworth, Emily thought with a savage bitterness. She started forward, determined to rescue Helen, but someone else got there first.

‘Helen.’

Emily’s head jerked around as she heard Jason speak in a tone she almost didn’t recognise. It was friendly and warm and intimate, and he crossed the room in a few long strides, placing his hand firmly on Helen’s elbow as he smiled down at her. ‘I don’t think you’ve seen the view from the terrace. It’s really quite stunning. The lights of the marina are spectacular at night.’

Emily watched as he expertly guided Helen away from the crowd—how many people had heard Philip’s remark, guessed at his sly innuendo? Too many, Emily knew. Far too many.

Yet now Helen smiled up at Jason as if he’d just charged in on his steed, and she allowed him to guide her outside.

And despite the guilt and regret that still lanced her, she felt a deep and heartfelt gratitude towards Jason for rescuing Helen. He might be a bit staid, a bit taciturn, but he was kind. Emily swallowed past the sudden lump of emotion in her throat. She had the uncomfortable feeling that she’d dismissed Jason all these years in a way perhaps she never should have. And it made her physical response to him all the more powerful—and alarming.

The party lasted until midnight. Emily could not focus enough to enjoy it, despite her best intentions to act as if she were. She chatted and smiled and laughed and pretended not to notice that Jason did not talk to her once the entire evening.

A month ago it wouldn’t have mattered. A year ago it hadn’t. Yet now everything had changed, she had changed, and this restless ache inside her would not go away. An ache for Jason. And though he didn’t talk or even look at her the entire evening, she couldn’t keep a sense of fizzy anticipation at bay, as intoxicating as the champagne she drank, filling her with bubbles of expectation. Surely Jason would seek her out before the end of the party. Surely something would happen.

Her mind left the details provocatively blank, although her body had no trouble remembering the slide of Jason’s lips on hers, their urgent demand. and her unquestioning response.

As the guests filtered away, Emily organised the clearing up, the caterers and quartet packing up their supplies while Gillian tallied the amounts pledged towards the desalination plant. ‘I think Jason will be very pleased,’ she said smugly.

‘Pleased about what?’ Jason strolled into the living room, having seen the last of the guests off.

‘Oh, Jason, you startled me.’ Gillian fluttered her false eyelashes at him and all the goodwill Emily had been feeling towards her abruptly evaporated. ‘We did very well tonight,’ she continued, ever so slightly emphasising the we. ‘Of course we’ll have to wait until the cheques clear—’

‘Wonderful,’ Jason cut across her in a way Emily was quite familiar with. ‘Now, Gillian, you look exhausted. I’ve called you a taxi,’ he told her as Gillian’s mouth dropped open in surprise and perhaps a little dismay. ‘And I insist you take it. You’ve, as always, done an absolutely brilliant job with the fund-raiser. Enjoy your rest. You deserve it.’ He smiled so charmingly that it didn’t feel like a dismissal, although Emily was quite certain it was. He wasn’t telling her to go take a taxi … and the thought filled her with fizzy bubbles again, the most delicious sort of anticipation.

Aimlessly, she wandered around the living room, waiting for Jason to return, her heart already starting a hectic beat. She saw a few half-drunk glasses of wine on a side table and reached for them, intending to take them to the kitchen.

‘Leave that.’

Emily stilled, turned around. Jason stood in the doorway, his bow tie and the top button of his shirt undone, his hair just a little rumpled. He looked unbearably sexy. How had she ever thought he was boring? Now she felt so fizzy with anticipation and excitement she could barely breathe. ‘Just trying to tidy up,’ she said in a breathy, wobbly voice she barely recognised as her own.

‘We can do it later.’

She swallowed down the question: So what should we do now? Her heart was beating so hard and fast it hurt and her palms were slick. She struggled to appear normal, as if this were normal, for her and Jason to be alone in his flat, the night dark all around them, his gaze steady on hers. She glanced around the stark black and white room with all of its after-party detritus. ‘I think everyone had a lovely time, don’t you?’

‘I hope so.’ He didn’t sound very interested in continuing the conversation, and as he moved towards her Emily felt a lurch of something close to alarm. This was so new, so strange. This was Jason. And she still had a lurking fear that he was suddenly going to chuckle and say, Oh, Emily, you didn’t actually think …

‘I feel terrible about Philip and Helen,’ she blurted, then wished she hadn’t. They were just about the last two people on earth she wanted to talk about right now. It looked as if Jason felt the same for he stilled mid-stride, his brows drawing together.

‘Do you?’ he said neutrally, and Emily decided she might as well come clean. Better now than … later. If there was a later.

‘Philip rang me last week,’ she confessed. ‘And it was obvious that he … that he didn’t.’ She stopped, wishing she’d never started this wretched conversation. ‘I had no idea he was such a … a …’

‘Bastard?’ Jason supplied, and Emily nodded.

‘Yes,’ she admitted in a small voice. ‘I’m afraid I really was blinded by his charm. And so was Helen.’

‘Understandable, I suppose,’ Jason replied. Emily watched as he removed his bow tie and slung it on a nearby chair. He certainly was very casual about removing his clothes. ‘He’s quite good at all that sweeping.’ His gaze met hers, glinting with amusement, although she sensed something deeper, something darker underneath. Philip, Emily supposed, was a case in point for Jason. Sensible won over romantic. Except Philip really hadn’t been either, in the end.

And Emily wasn’t sure what Jason was being now.

‘Yes … thank you for rescuing her from Philip this evening. I had no idea he would be here, or I wouldn’t have invited her. I thought she could use a night out, away from Philip, and then of course he showed up with that Sylvie person, who builds wells, would you believe—’

‘Emily,’ Jason said, moving towards her, ‘stop talking.’

Emily shut her mouth with a snap. She had been babbling, but she was so nervous. And Jason looked so assured. ‘Okay,’ she managed, her voice wobbling slightly. Jason stood in front of her, smiling faintly even as he drew his brows together in concern.

‘Why are you so nervous?’

Emily shook her head, unwilling to admit how uncertain she still was. Even now she wasn’t sure what Jason intended. What he wanted. She certainly knew what she wanted. Her gaze remained fixed on the column of his throat, the skin so smooth and warm-looking. ‘I’m not nervous.’

‘Really?’ Jason arched an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at the pulse fluttering wildly in her throat. ‘I wonder,’ he said softly, his gaze now sweeping over her body like a blush, ‘why the thought of me being anything other than boring, stuffy Jason terrifies you so much?’

Emily straightened her shoulders, her eyes flashing. ‘Do I look terrified?’

‘Do you really want to know the answer to that question?’

She let out an uncertain laugh, conceding the point. She supposed it did seem fairly obvious. ‘Maybe not.’

‘I think we’ve both needed to change the way we think about each other,’ Jason continued, his voice musing, his gaze sweeping over her once more, lingering, languorous. Emily knew there could be no misinterpreting or imagining a look like that. His look was like a caress, his eyes touching her body. ‘Of course, we might need some practical help in that regard.’

Only Jason would use the word practical in a moment like this. Emily didn’t feel practical at all. Her entire body was buzzing with awareness, aching with need. ‘Practical …?’ she repeated in a whisper.

‘Yes,’ Jason confirmed, and he lifted a hand to tuck a stray tendril behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her lobe, that little touch possessive and sure. ‘And the practical thing for me to do now is seduce you.’

CHAPTER NINE

‘SEDUCE me?’ Emily repeated. The words rippled over her, dousing her in shock. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

Jason laughed softly. ‘I intend to show you in vivid detail.’

Images danced before Emily’s eyes, intimate, evocative, startling images. Candlelight on bared skin, clothes slithering to the floor. ‘What I meant was,’ she amended hastily, ‘that most people don’t announce their intentions to seduce—‘

‘I told you I’d always be honest with you.’

‘Ah.’ She managed a shaky laugh. ‘Right.’ She was still reeling from Jason’s sudden announcement. ‘So seduction is practical, is it?’ she said and Jason smiled.

‘Eminently. You are attracted to me, aren’t you?’

Emily flinched at such a direct question. There could be no evading, no protecting herself. Still, she tried. ‘I … I suppose.’

He laughed softly. ‘Damned with faint praise.’ Emily said nothing, not wanting to admit just how attracted she was. Even now she was nervous, afraid. Terrified. Jason was right. The thought of him being anything other than what she’d known was scary, strange.

Thrilling.

‘I suppose,’ Jason murmured, ‘I’ll just have to convince you how attracted to me you are.’

Emily realised she’d just inadvertently issued another challenge with her tentative answer. She decided, despite the wild beating of her heart, to see it through. ‘And how do you intend to do that?’

‘Well …’ He smiled and brushed another stray tendril of hair behind her ear. His fingers didn’t even linger this time. Yet still it was enough for Emily to expel a breath in a ragged rush she couldn’t quite control. ‘Perhaps,’ Jason murmured, ‘I should start by kissing you.’ Emily swallowed. Audibly. ‘This time,’ he told her, touching her chin with his fingertips, ‘you won’t ask me what it was for.’

Emily let out a shaky little laugh. ‘Since you’ve already told me your intention, I won’t have to.’

‘Good.’ And then he did kiss her, finally, and it was as unlike the last time as anything Emily could have imagined. There was nothing tentative about this kiss, nothing tenuous or tender or hesitant. This kiss was hot, hard, a searing brand that told Emily more than anything Jason had said or done just what he wanted to do. What he would do.

That she was his.

Her mouth opened under his, and she gasped aloud as his tongue plunged inside, an erotic mimicry of what would surely come later. And even though Jason didn’t move his hands or body or touch her in any other way, Emily was on fire. Liquid fire, her insides melting, her hands reaching up to grasp the lapels of his shirt, pressing closer to him, revelling in the feel of his body next to hers, hard against soft.

Jason broke the kiss with a smile; Emily felt his lips curve against hers. ‘Oh, no, Emily,’ he said softly. ‘We’re not rushing this.’

He called this rushing? Emily’s face was flushed, her breathing already ragged, as if she’d just done a sprint. Or ten. Her hands were still fisted in his shirt. How could he look so unruffled? So in control?

But then Jason had always been in control. He was certainly calling the shots now. She was at his mercy, under his command.

‘Fine,’ she managed, shaking her hair over her shoulders. ‘Take your time.’

Jason laughed softly. ‘Oh, I will,’ he assured her. ‘I will.’ He moved around her, his head cocked as if he were studying her. Underneath that steady, assessing gaze Emily felt suddenly vulnerable, conscious of the skimpiness of her form-fitting cocktail dress, the black silk hugging her rather generous curves. What was Jason thinking? Why was he looking at her so … thoroughly?

‘You’re beautiful,’ he said. The words were spoken with such simple sincerity that Emily quivered. She’d been told she was beautiful before; her father said it all the time. She’d accepted it, taken it for granted even, yet she hadn’t really felt it. Believed it. But she did when Jason told her in that honest, heartfelt tone. His voice echoed through her, filled her up to overflowing.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, because she didn’t know what else to say. ‘You’re not too bad yourself.’

Jason laughed softly. ‘You’re rather grudging with your compliments, aren’t you?’ He stood behind her now, and she felt his breath tickle the back of her neck. She tried not to shiver, but she could not suppress the urge, and when Jason pressed his lips to her nape she gasped aloud. She hadn’t expected that, or for his hands to span her waist, sliding over the silk of her dress so he fitted her against him, and she leaned back, yielding to his touch.

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