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‘Where did you take Emma?’
‘I put her on the train once I’d talked to her mother and made sure everything was cool,’ Jaz said. ‘I didn’t want her to get into trouble or do anything she might regret.’ Like I did. She pushed the thought aside. She wouldn’t think about the rest of that night after she had left Jake’s bedroom.
Jake picked up a glass, filled it with champagne and knocked it back in one gulp. He shook his head like a dog coming out of water and then poured another glass. With his features cast in such serious lines, he looked more like his twin Julius than ever.
‘We need a photo,’ Jaz said. ‘Hand me a glass.’
He looked at her as if she had just asked him to poke a knitting needle in his eye. ‘A photo?’ he said. ‘What for?’
She helped herself to a glass of champagne and came to stand beside him but he backed away as if she was carrying dynamite. Or knitting needles. ‘Get away from me,’ he said.
‘We have to do this, Jake,’ she said. ‘Who’s going to believe it if we don’t do an engagement photo?’
‘You don’t have a ring,’ he said. ‘Yet.’ The way he said ‘yet’ made it sound as though he considered the task on the same level as having root canal therapy.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Jaz said. ‘Just a shot with us with a glass of champers and grinning like Cheshire cats will be enough.’
‘You’re a sadist,’ he said, shooting her a hooded look as she came to stand beside him with her camera phone poised. ‘You know that, don’t you? A totally sick sadist.’
It was impossible for Jaz not to notice how hard and warm his arm was against hers as she leaned in to get the shot. Impossible not to think of those strongly muscled arms gathering her even closer. Was he as aware of her as she was of him? Was that why he was standing so still? He hadn’t been this close to her in years. When family photographs had been taken—even though strictly speaking she wasn’t family—she had always been up the other end of the shot close to Miranda or one of Jake’s parents. She had never stood right next to Jake. Not so close she could practically feel the blood pumping through his veins. She checked the photo and groaned. ‘Oh, come on,’ she said. ‘Surely you can do better than that. You look like someone’s got a broomstick up your—’
‘Okay, we’ll try again.’ He put an arm around her shoulders and leaned his head against hers. She could feel the strands of his tousled hair tickling her skin. Her senses were going haywire when his stubbly jaw grazed her face. He smelt amazing—lime and lemongrass with a hint of ginger or some other spice. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Take the goddamn shot.’
‘Oh...right,’ Jaz said and clicked the button. She checked the photo but this time it looked like she was the one being tortured. Plus it was blurred. ‘Not my best angle.’ She deleted it and held up the phone. ‘One more take. Say cheese.’
‘That’s enough,’ he said, stepping away from her once she’d taken the shot. ‘You have to promise me you’ll delete that when this is all over, okay?’
Jaz criss-crossed her chest with her hand. ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’
He grunted as if her demise was something he was dearly praying for.
She sent the tweet and then quickly sent a text to Miranda:
I know you never liked Myles. You approve of fiancé # 4?
Miranda’s text came back within seconds.
OMG! Definitely!!! Congrats. Always knew you were hot for each other. J Will call later xxxxx
‘Who are you texting?’ Jake asked.
‘Miranda,’ Jaz said, putting her phone down. ‘She’s thrilled for us. We’ll finally be sisters. Yay.’
He muttered a curse and prowled around the room like a shark in a fishbowl. ‘Julius is never going to fall for this. Not for a moment.’
‘He’ll have to if you want Emma to go away,’ Jaz said. ‘If you don’t play along I’ll tell her the truth.’
He threw her a filthy look. ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’
She smiled a victor’s smile. ‘What’s that saying about revenge is a dish best eaten cold?’
He glowered at her. ‘Isn’t it a little childish to be harking on about that night all these years later? I did you a favour back then. I could’ve done you that night but how would that have worked out? Ever thought about that? No. You want to paint me as the big, bad guy who made you feel a little embarrassed about that schoolgirl crush. But, believe me, I could have done a whole lot worse.’
Jaz stepped out of his way as he stormed past her to leave the room. You did do a whole lot worse, she wanted to throw after him. But instead she clamped her lips together and turned back to look at the discarded bottles and glasses.
Typical. Jake had a habit of leaving his mess for other people to clean up.
JAKE WAS SO mad he could see red spots in front of his eyes. Or maybe he was having a brain aneurysm from anger build-up. Seven years of it. He paced the floor of his room, raking his hair, grinding his teeth, swearing like a Brooklyn rapper at what Jasmine had done to him. Engaged! What a freaking farce. No one would believe it. Not him. Not the playboy prince of the pick-ups.
His stomach turned at the thought. Committed. Tied down. Trapped. He was the last person who would ever tie himself down to one woman and certainly not someone like Jasmine Connolly. She was a manipulative little witch. She was using him. Using him to lure back her third fiancé. Who on earth got engaged three times? Someone who was obsessed with getting married, that was who. Jasmine didn’t seem to care who she got engaged to as long as they had money and status.
But through the red mist of anger he could see her solution had some merit. Emma Madden had taken the news of their ‘engagement’ rather well. He had been poleaxed to see that kid standing on the doorstep. He could count on half a hand how many times he’d been caught off guard but seeing that kid there was right up there. If anyone had seen her—anyone being the press, that was—he would have been toast. He didn’t want to be cruel to the girl but how else could he get rid of her? Jasmine’s solution seemed to have worked. So far. But how long would he have to stay ‘engaged’?
Then there was his family to deal with. He could probably pull off the lie with his parents and Miranda but not his twin. Julius knew him too well. Julius knew how much he hated the thought of being confined in a relationship. Jake was more like his father in that way. His father wasn’t good at marriage. Richard and Elisabetta fought as passionately as they made up. It was a war zone one minute and a love fest the next. As a child Jake had found it deeply unsettling—not that he’d ever showed it. His role in the family was the court jester. It was his way of coping with the turbulent emotions that flew around like missiles. He’d never known what he was coming home to.
Then eventually it had happened. The divorce had been bitter and public and the intrusion of the press terrifying to a child of eight. He and Julius had been packed off to boarding school but, while Julius had relished the routine, structure and discipline, Jake had not. Julius had excelled academically while Jake had scraped through, not because he wasn’t intellectually capable but because in an immature and mostly subconscious way he hadn’t wanted his parents to think their divorce had had a positive effect on him.
But he had more than made up for it in his business analysis company. He was successful and wealthy and had the sort of life most people envied. The fly-in,