Mr and Mischief. Кейт Хьюит

in a spirit of cautious optimism had been, if not disasters, then surely disappointments. She most certainly wasn’t looking for a third. Still, if you were going to have a relationship, surely you wanted something a bit more than what this Richard was offering.

      ‘Sounds very sensible,’ she said. Too sensible. Where was the romance? The love? There was nothing sensible about either, as far as she was concerned, although she had no firsthand experience. She’d never been in love, not even close, and she doubted it would ever happen. True love matches—like her own mother and father’s—were rare, which was why Emily had been happy to help Steph and Tim along. She’d just about given up finding it for herself. ‘Does Richard work for Kingsley Engineering? ‘ she asked, mentally going through the several hundred employees Jason had on his payroll. There were several Richards.

      ‘Yes, he’s worked on a project with Mr Kingsley in Africa,’ Helen answered. ‘He just got back.’

      Emily nodded, for now she knew just who Helen’s Richard was. Richard Marsden, one of a handful of Jason’s protégés, a solid-looking engineer with an earnest expression, a nervous tic and absolutely no sense of humour. Of course he would suggest such a thing. She could just see him sitting Helen down on his sofa and outlining his five-year plan for their relationship, with accompanying PowerPoint presentation. It all sounded rather dreadful. ‘Well,’ she said diplomatically, ‘it will certainly be nice for you to be able to spend some time with him.’

      ‘Yes …’ Helen sounded hesitant and, although Emily didn’t blame her, she decided they’d had enough personal conversation. Part of her success in Human Resources was to know both when to employ and to curb the personal aspect of her position. ‘Well, since Mr Kingsley can vouch for you, I’m certainly willing to hire you. We’ll just fill out some forms and then I’ll show you around the reception area.’

      Helen beamed. ‘Thank you, Miss Wood.’

      ‘Please, call me Emily. We’re all friendly here.’

      Emily watched as Helen bent her dark head to fill out the forms, a sudden, gentle sort of protectiveness stealing over her. The girl really did seem terribly innocent. She would certainly need someone to look out for her, show her the ropes. And, more importantly, a bit of fun. Clearly Richard wasn’t going to do it.

      ‘Come on, then,’ she said when Helen had finished the forms. ‘We can grab a coffee before I show you ‘round. You can meet a few people.’ A few people other than Richard Marsden, she added silently.

      The rest of her first day as Head of Human Resources passed uneventfully enough, with no more than the usual common complaints and banal paperwork to round out the hire of Helen that morning. She was surprised to find it already past five o’clock and most of her department gone when she finally finished her last email and pressed send.

      ‘A successful first day, it seems.’

      Emily looked up to see Jason standing in her doorway, and she wondered how she could have missed his approach. Her heart certainly gave a sudden, surprising lurch now.

      ‘Jason, you startled me.’ She smiled up at him, noticing the deeper grooves from his mouth to nose, the faint fanning of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. The African sun had aged him a bit, but it was not unattractive. Jason could certainly carry off a rather dignified look. And he was quite a bit older … he was nearing forty. Time to think of marrying, perhaps. The thought was unsettling, only because she could not imagine Jason with a wife. He would probably pick someone to suit him just like Richard was with Helen. She could just see him compiling some sort of list. Must be handy with an iron, a golf club and a gardening spade… .

      ‘Yes, it was successful,’ she said, stressing the word lightly. ‘No less than you’d expect, of course.’

      ‘Of course.’ He strolled into her office. He wore, as usual, a dark suit with a crisp shirt and blue silk tie, a woollen trench coat over one arm. He looked utterly put together and as always a little remote, and yet he seemed somehow different too. Or perhaps she was the one who was different, for she couldn’t quite keep her gaze from roving over him as that citrusy scent of his aftershave assaulted her senses.

      She rose from her desk, glad she’d chosen a cherry-red power suit with a fitted jacket and miniskirt for her first day as Head. Admittedly, her skirt was a bit on the short side, and she saw Jason’s gaze flick to her bare legs before his mouth tightened into a faint but familiar line of disapproval.

      Feeling a little impish, Emily held one foot out for him to examine. ‘Oh, do you like my shoes?’ she asked, widening her eyes innocently. Today she’d worn a pair of matching red stilettos with diamanté straps. She wasn’t generally that into shoes, but these had been hard to resist. And they matched her suit perfectly.

      Jason stared at her stretched-out leg, looking decidedly unimpressed. ‘Very pretty,’ he said after a moment. ‘Although not necessarily work attire.’

      ‘Well,’ Emily told him, unable to resist the opportunity to bait him just a bit more, ‘I had to liven up this suit somehow.’

      For a split second Jason looked positively thunderous, and Emily wondered if he was actually angry. Then he glanced at her, smiling, his eyes lightening to the honey colour she’d seen last night, and he said, ‘Trust me, Emily, your clothes do not need livening up. Now, how about a bite to eat and you can tell me all about your first day?’

      Emily blinked in shock. She had been half-expecting Jason to check up on her since it was the first day of her new position, but this? ‘Dinner?’ she repeated rather stupidly, and Jason’s smile widened.

      ‘That is the idea. Usually, around six o’clock, people like to eat and drink. Sustenance, you know, as well as a social habit.’

      Emily’s mouth twitched in a smile. She’d forgotten about Jason’s dry sense of humour. And, despite her surprise at the invitation, she realised she’d like to have dinner with him. She was curious about how he’d changed, and even what this personal business was. And there was something about Jason—something oddly different—that she wanted to understand. Or at least explore. ‘Actually, I’m famished,’ she told him as she reached for her coat. ‘I skipped lunch. So yes, you can treat me to dinner.’

      Jason watched as Emily slid a form-fitting trench coat over her already clinging suit. It didn’t even cover her legs. For a coat, it was remarkably revealing. He felt himself frown, already regretting his impulse invitation. He hadn’t even meant to come down to Emily’s office; he had plans that evening, and he’d meant to walk straight outside to his car. Yet somehow he’d taken this little detour, and once he’d seen Emily hold out one perfectly shaped golden leg, her eyes sparkling with laughter, his resolve had crumbled to dust.

      He’d kept away from her for seven years; she was nearly twenty-five now. She was experienced, if the social pages were anything to go by, and surely a single evening—a little bit of light flirting—wouldn’t harm anyone. It was just, Jason told himself, an itch he needed to scratch. It wouldn’t go anywhere. It couldn’t. He wouldn’t even kiss her.

      Yet already he was reaching for his BlackBerry, and he quickly sent a rather terse text to cancel the rest of his plans for the evening. He clicked the button on his keys to unlock the car, and Emily started in surprise.

      ‘You own a Porsche?’ she said, clearly surprised.

      Jason opened her door, breathing in the strawberry scent of her hair and something else, something warm and feminine that had lust jolting through him yet again. Just dinner. ‘It appears that I do,’ he said, and she rolled her eyes as she slid into the sumptuous leather interior.

      ‘Quite a nice ride. It’s not what I’d expect at all.’

      ‘Oh?’ Jason slid into the driver’s seat. ‘I didn’t know you had expectations about my mode of transport.’

      ‘Yes, but that’s it exactly, isn’t it?’ Emily said with a laugh. She shook her hair back over her shoulders in a golden waterfall. ‘Your “mode of transport".