Under the Boss's Mistletoe. Jessica Hart

been in the States for most of them. I got myself a degree, and then did an MBA at Harvard.’

      ‘Really?’ said Cassie, impressed. In all the years she had wondered where Jake Trevelyan was and what he was doing, she had never considered that he might be at university. She had imagined him surfing, perhaps, or running a bar on some beach somewhere, or possibly making shady deals astride his motorbike—but Harvard? Even her father would be impressed by that.

      ‘I had no idea,’ she said.

      Jake shrugged. ‘I was lucky. I went to work for a smallish firm in Seattle, just as it was poised for expansion. It was an exciting time, and it gave me a lot of valuable experience. That company was at the forefront of digital technology, and Primordia is in the same field, which put me in a good position when they were looking for a new Chief Executive, although it took some negotiation to get me back to London.’

      ‘Didn’t you want to come back?’

      ‘Not particularly. But they made me an offer even I couldn’t refuse.’

      ‘You were head-hunted?’ said Cassie, trying to imagine a company going out of its way to recruit her. Cassandra Grey’s just the person we want for this job, they would say. How can we tempt her?

      Nope, she couldn’t do it.

      Jake obviously took the whole business for granted. ‘That’s how it works.’ He pulled up at a red light and glanced at Cassie. ‘What about you? How long have you been with Avalon?’

      ‘Just since the beginning of the year. Before that I was a receptionist,’ she said. ‘I did a couple of stints in retail, a bit of temping, a bit of waitressing…’

      She sighed. ‘Not a very impressive career, as my father is always pointing out. I’m a huge disappointment to my parents. The others have all done really well. They all went to Cambridge. Liz is a doctor, Tom’s an architect and even Jack is a lawyer now. They’re all grown-ups, and I’m just the family problem.’

      Cassie had intended the words to sound humorous, but was uneasily aware they had come out rather flat. Rather as if she didn’t think it was such a funny joke after all. ‘They’re always ringing each other up and wondering what to do about Cassie.’

      But that was all going to change, she reminded herself. This could be the start of a whole new career. She was going to turn Portrevick Hall into a model venue. Celebrities would be queuing up to get married there. After a year or two, they wouldn’t even have to advertise. Just mentioning that a wedding would be at Portrevick Hall would mean that it would be the last word in style and elegance.

      Cassandra Grey? they would say. Isn’t she the one who made Portrevick Hall a byword for chic and exclusive? She would get tired of calls from the head-hunters. Not again, she would sigh. When are you people going to get the message that I don’t want to commit to one job? Because, of course, by then she would be a consultant. She had always fancied the thought of being one of those.

      Cassie settled herself more comfortably in her seat, liking the way this fantasy was going. All those smart hotels in London would be constantly ringing her up and begging her to come and sort out their events facilities—and probably not just in London, now she came to think of it. She would have an international reputation.

      Yes, she’d get tired of jetting off to New York and Dubai and Sydney. Cassie smiled to herself. Liz, Tom and Jack would still be ringing each other up, but instead of worrying about her they would be complaining about how humdrum their sensible careers seemed in comparison with her glamorous life. I’m sick of Cassie telling me she’d really just like a few days at home doing nothing, Liz would grumble.

      ‘And what’s Cassie going to do about herself?’ asked Jake, breaking rudely into her dream.

      ‘I’m going to do what I’m doing,’ she told him firmly. ‘I love working for Joss at Avalon. It’s the best job I’ve ever had, and I’ll do anything to keep it.’

      Even pretending to understand about project management, she added mentally.

      ‘What does a wedding planner do all day?’

      ‘It could be anything,’ she said. ‘I might book string quartets, or find exactly the right shade of ribbon, or source an unusual cake-topper. I love the variety. I can be helping a bride to choose her dress one minute, and sorting out accommodation for the wedding party the next. And then, of course, I get to go to all the weddings.’

      Jake made a face. He couldn’t think of anything worse. ‘It sounds hellish,’ he said frankly. ‘Don’t you get bored?’

      ‘Never,’ said Cassie. ‘I love weddings. I cry every time—I do!’ she insisted when he looked at her in disbelief.

      ‘Why? These people are clients, not friends.’

      ‘They feel like friends by the time we’ve spent months together planning the wedding,’ she retorted. ‘But it doesn’t matter whether I know the bride and groom or not. I always want to cry when I walk past Chelsea register office and see people on the steps after they’ve got married. I love seeing everyone so happy. A wedding is such a hopeful occasion.’

      ‘In spite of all the evidence to the contrary,’ said Jake astringently. ‘How many of those weddings you’re snivelling at this year will end in divorce by the end of the next? Talk about the triumph of hope over experience!’

      ‘But that’s exactly why weddings are so moving,’ said Cassie. ‘They’re about people choosing to love each other. Lots of people get married more than once. They know how difficult marriage can be, but they still want to make that commitment. I think it’s wonderful,’ she added defiantly. ‘What have you got against marriage, anyway?’

      ‘I’ve got nothing against marriage,’ said Jake. ‘It’s all the expense and fuss of weddings that I find pointless. It seems to me that marriage is a serious business, and you should approach it in a serious way, not muddle it all up with big dresses, flowers, cakes and whatever else goes on at weddings these days.’

      ‘Weddings are meant to be a celebration,’ she reminded him. ‘What do you want the bride and groom to do instead—sit down and complete a checklist?’

      ‘At least then they would know they were compatible.’

      Cassie rolled her eyes. ‘So what would be on your checklist?’

      ‘I’d want to know that the woman I was marrying was intelligent, and sensible…and confident,’ Jake decided. ‘More importantly, I’d need to be sure that we shared the same goals, that we both had the same attitude to success in our careers…and sex, of course…and to little things like tidiness that can put the kybosh on a relationship quicker than anything else.’

      ‘You don’t ask for much, do you?’ said Cassie tartly, reflecting that she wouldn’t get many ticks on Jake’s checklist. In fact, if he had set out to describe her exact opposite, he could hardly have done a better job. ‘Clever, confident, successful and tidy. Where are you going to find a paragon like that?’

      ‘I already have,’ said Jake.

       Oh.

      ‘Oh,’ said Cassie, unaccountably put out. ‘What’s her name?’

      ‘Natasha. We’ve been together six months.’

      ‘So why haven’t you married her if she’s so perfect?’ Try as she might, Cassie couldn’t keep the snippiness from her voice.

      ‘We just haven’t got round to talking about it,’ said Jake. ‘I think it would be a good move, though. It makes sense.’

      ‘Makes sense?’ echoed Cassie in disbelief. ‘You should get married because you’re in love, not because it makes sense!’

      ‘In my book, committing yourself to someone for life