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

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.’