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

‘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 (#ulink_1dd16835-a074-5602-9a24-0f9fa64f894b)

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.

‘I’m sure she will, if you have anything to do with it,’ he said, and Emily wondered if she was the only one who heard the faintest thread of mocking laughter in his voice. He turned back to Helen, smiling again as he wished her well, and then went to head towards his executive office. After saying her own goodbyes to both receptionists, Emily fell into step with Jason, matching his long stride, and he slid her a sideways glance. ‘You seem to be taking quite an interest in Miss Smith.’

‘I take an interest in all the people I hire,’ Emily replied briskly. ‘It’s my job.’

‘Of course,’ Jason agreed. ‘And an admirable dedication to your job is the only reason, I suppose?’

He was laughing at her, she knew, but somehow she didn’t really mind. She’d reached the door of her office, and she turned to face him, surprised and a bit breathless by how close he stood to her. She could smell the citrusy scent of his aftershave again, and underlying it was a fainter, muskier scent that she knew had to be just Jason and the thought made her stomach flip over in a way she was starting to get used to, it had been happening so often in the few days since Jason had returned. Despite its now familiarity, it still felt strange, unnerving, because this was Jason and save the thirty humiliating seconds when she’d asked him to kiss her, she’d never reacted this way to him before. She could only imagine how horrified he would be if he knew. ‘Of course,’ she said innocently. ‘What else would it be?’

‘As long as you aren’t planning to meddle,’ he said. Although he kept his tone light, Emily heard the warning in his words.

‘Meddle or matchmake?’

‘They’re one and the same.’