Misbehaving Under the Mistletoe. Heidi Rice

‘Helen always knew how to throw a party.’

      ‘Who’s Helen?’ she asked. But before she got a reply, Jace stiffened beside her. His jaw clenched as a tall woman in floating red silk made her way through the crowd towards them. The woman’s figure was so thin and delicate, her collarbone stood out against the wispy straps of her gown. Either she was a supermodel or she had an eating disorder. Cassie opted for the former as she glided closer, deciding that her striking face, all high cheekbones, almond eyes and collagen-stung lips, could easily have graced the cover of a fashion magazine.

      Dropping Cassie’s hand, Jace placed his palm on her hip to anchor her to his side. And she heard him swear under his breath.

      ‘Hello, lover boy,’ the woman said breathlessly as she drew level, her six-inch heels bringing her almost eye-level with Jace, and making Cassie feel like a midget. ‘Long time, no see.’ A cloud of expensive perfume engulfed Cassie as the woman leaned into him and pressed postbox-red lips to his. Her mouth lingered on his a moment too long for the kiss to be mistaken for platonic. Cassie wondered if she’d just become invisible.

      Jace grasped the women’s waist, deliberately setting her away from him. ‘Where the hell is Bryan?’ he asked, his tone frigid.

      ‘That’s for me to know and for you to find out,’ she said, batting her eyelids as spots of colour appeared on her angular cheekbones.

      ‘I didn’t come all this way to play games, Helen,’ he replied, his voice low with annoyance.

      So this was Helen.

      The woman’s long eyelashes dipped in a bashful gesture that seemed out of keeping with the bold flirtation of a moment before and she gave a breathless little laugh. ‘Don’t be such a spoilsport.’ She touched a perfectly manicured nail to Jace’s chest. ‘I have good news. I have some friends here tonight you must meet. I’ve whetted their appetite already and they’re gagging to hear more about Artisan so they can invest.’

      Catching her finger, Jace lowered it. ‘You of all people know I’m not looking for new investment.’

      She flicked her fingers in a dismissive gesture. ‘Stop being difficult—you’re not going to sell Artisan. I know how much the company means to you. I’m the one who watched you sweat blood over it.’

      ‘It served its purpose,’ he replied flatly. ‘I don’t get sentimental about business, any more than I get sentimental about the past.’

      The chill in his voice sent a shiver of alarm up Cassie’s spine. Who was this woman? And why did the familiarity between them remind her unpleasantly of the time when Lance had laughingly introduced her to his ‘work colleague’ Tracy at their New Year’s Eve party last year?

      She knew she didn’t have any claim on Jace, this was just a casual date with the promise of wild sex for dessert, but that didn’t make the uncomfortable feeling go away. She cleared her throat, loudly, and Helen’s head whipped round.

      The woman stared blankly at her as if she were noticing her for the first time, but made no move to introduce herself. Hostility rolled off her in waves, but there was something else there, a flicker of sadness and distress, that made Cassie wish she could disappear for real.

      ‘Why don’t I go get us a drink?’ Cassie directed the question at Jace. Whatever was between these two, she was pretty sure she’d be better off not knowing what it was.

      ‘We’ll get one together,’ he replied. ‘I’ll catch you later, Helen.’

      But as he took Cassie’s hand and went to sidestep their host she simply stepped the same way, blocking his path. ‘What’s the matter, Jace?’ she said, her raised voice turning several heads by the bar. ‘Does it make you uncomfortable introducing your little tart to your wife?’

      He swore viciously as shock and disbelief made blood pound in Cassie’s ears.

       His wife?

      Seeing the other guests staring at her, Cassie felt the blood pump into her cheeks. Jace said something, his voice low with temper, but she couldn’t make out the words, the buzzing in her ears deafening her. Pulling her hand out of his, she rushed out of the bar and didn’t look back.

      She covered her mouth with her hand as reaction set in.

      Oh, God, she was going to throw up.

      So much for her fabulous adventure, she thought as she stabbed the lift button with frantic fingers. She should have seen it coming. Cassie Fitzgerald decided to have a wild fling and she ended up flinging herself straight into the arms of a married man. It would be ironic, if the guilt and embarrassment and the stupid sense of betrayal tumbling about in the pit of her stomach weren’t making her gag.

      ‘Hold up, Cassie.’ A large hand wrapped around her forearm and whisked her round. ‘Where the hell are you going?’

      ‘Home.’

      ‘Helen’s not my wife,’ he countered. ‘We’ve been divorced for over five years now and separated a great deal longer. And up until about ten seconds ago I thought she’d be here with her new fiancé, so I didn’t anticipate having to deal with this rubbish.’

      The dispassionate explanation went some way to dispelling the nausea, but did nothing for the heat burning in her cheeks. ‘Thanks for letting me know that,’ she said, using sarcasm to mask the stupid sting of tears. What on earth was she so upset about? His relationship with his ex-wife really had nothing to do with her. ‘It might have been nice if you’d told me a little sooner, though. Like when I asked about her in the car.’

      ‘I’m not interested in talking about her or our marriage,’ he said, as if withholding such a vital piece of information was perfectly reasonable.

      ‘I specifically asked you if you were involved with her. And you didn’t say a word.’

      She stared at the lift display panel as if her life depended on it. She didn’t want to look at him. And where the heck was the lift? It needed to get here before she did something really idiotic like bursting into tears. For some reason her emotions had been too close to the surface all night. Ever since she’d leapt into his car like a crazy lady—and then come apart on his sofa.

      ‘Because there’s nothing to say,’ he huffed. ‘I was never involved with her. Not in any real sense. Our marriage lasted exactly six months and I’ve regretted it ever since. The fact that she’s delusional and insists on pretending there’s still something between us is not my problem.’ His thumb and forefinger gripped her chin and he directed her gaze back to his. ‘Do you think you could look at me while you’re having your snit?’

      ‘This is not a snit.’

      To her astonishment his lip curved up at one corner. ‘It looks like one to me.’

      ‘Excuse me, but you weren’t the one who got called a little tart in front of three hundred people.’

      The other corner curved up. ‘I’m sure it was only two hundred and fifty,’ he replied, his eyes now smiling too.

      He placed a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off.

      ‘Now, Cassie,’ he said, amusement lightening his voice as he threaded his fingers into the fine hair at her nape. ‘You’re not looking on the bright side here.’

      ‘What bright side?’ she snapped, trying very hard not to be charmed by that sensual smile and the caressing touch. It wasn’t fair. She’d been humiliated. Branded a tart by a woman she didn’t even know. And he seemed to think it was a joke. She wasn’t about to humour him.

      Following her into the lift, he pressed the ground-floor button then placed his hands on either side of her head, caging her against the wall. ‘The bright side is, we get to leave straight away. A whole hour earlier than planned.’

      She braced her palms against his chest, but her arms felt heavy, sluggish, the coil of desire unravelling at an alarming speed and