Under the Boss’s Mistletoe

by Jessica Hart

  Under the Boss’s Mistletoe

  Jessica Hart

  In high school, Jake Trevelyan was Cassie Grey's dream rebel. He surfed, rode a motorbike – now he's her new boss!

  It's events planner Cassie's job to transform Jake's mansion into a snow-kissed wedding venue. Not to relive her old fantasy they're the ones getting married.

  Posing as the happy couple for a publicity photo shoot, Cassie pinches herself as Jake leans in for a showstopping kiss.but it's just for the cameras, isn't it?

  Jessica Hart

  Under the Boss’s Mistletoe

  © 2009

  PROLOGUE

  ‘I WANT a word with you!’

  Cassie almost fell down the steps in her hurry to catch Jake before he zoomed off like the coward he was. The stumble did nothing to improve her temper as she stormed over to where he had just got onto his motorbike.

  He had been about to put on his helmet, but he paused at the sound of her voice. In his battered leathers, he looked as dark and mean as the machine he sat astride. There was a dangerous edge to Jake Trevelyan that Cassie normally found deeply unnerving, but today she was too angry to be intimidated.

  ‘You broke Rupert’s nose!’ she said furiously.

  Jake observed her approach through narrowed eyes. The estate manager’s ungainly daughter had a wild mane of curls, a round, quirky face and a mouth that showed promise of an interesting woman to come. Right now, though, she was still only seventeen, and reminded him of an exuberant puppy about to fall over its paws.

  Not such a friendly puppy today, he observed. The normally dreamy brown eyes were flashing with temper. It wasn’t too hard to guess what had her all riled up; she must have just been to see her precious Rupert.

  ‘Not quite such a pretty boy today, is he?’ he grinned.

  Cassie’s fists clenched. ‘I’d like to break your nose,’ she said and Jake laughed mockingly.

  ‘Have a go,’ he offered.

  ‘And give you the excuse to beat me up as well? I don’t think so.’

  ‘I didn’t beat Rupert up,’ said Jake dismissively. ‘Is that what he told you?’

  ‘I’ve just seen him. He looks awful.’

  Cassie heard the crack in her voice and pressed her lips together in a fierce, straight line before she could humiliate herself utterly by bursting into tears.

  She had been so happy, she had had to keep pinching herself. For as long as she could remember she had dreamed of Rupert, and now he was hers-or he had been. It was only three days since the ball, and he was in a vicious temper, which he’d taken out on her. It was all spoilt now.

  And it was all Jake Trevelyan’s fault.

  ‘He’s going to bring assault charges against you,’ she told Jake, hoping to shock him, but he only looked contemptuous.

  ‘So Sir Ian has just been telling me.’

  Cassie had never understood why Sir Ian had so much time for a thug like Jake, especially now that he had beaten up his own nephew!

  The Trevelyans were notorious in Portrevick for their shady dealings, and the only member of the family who had ever appeared to hold down a job at all was Jake’s mother, who had cleaned for Sir Ian until her untimely death a couple of years ago. Jake himself had long had a reputation as a troublemaker. He was four years older than Cassie, and she couldn’t remember a time when his dark, surly presence hadn’t made him the kind of boy you crossed the road to avoid.

  It was a pity she hadn’t remembered that at the Allantide Ball.

  Now Cassie glared at him, astonished by her own bravery. ‘But then, I suppose the thought of prison wouldn’t bother you,’ she said. ‘It’s something of a family tradition, isn’t it?’

  Something unpleasant flared in Jake’s eyes, and she took an involuntary step backwards, wondering a little too late whether she might have gone too far. There was a suppressed anger about him that should have warned her not to provoke him. She wouldn’t put it past him to take out all that simmering resentment on her the way he so clearly had on Rupert, but in the end he only looked at her with dislike.

  ‘What do you want, Miss Not-So-Goody Two Shoes?’

  Cassie took a deep breath. ‘I want to know why you hit Rupert.’

  ‘Why does it matter?’

  ‘Rupert said it was over me.’ She bit her lip. ‘He wouldn’t tell me exactly what.’

  Jake laughed shortly. ‘No, I bet he wouldn’t!’

  ‘Was it…was it because of what happened at the Allantide Ball?’

  ‘When you offered yourself to me on a plate?’ he said, and her face flamed.

  ‘I was just talking,’ she protested, although she knew she had been doing more than that.

  ‘You don’t wear a dress like that just to talk,’ said Jake.

  Cassie’s cheeks were as scarlet as the dress she had bought as part of a desperate strategy to convince Rupert that she had grown up.

  Her parents had been aghast when they had seen it, and Cassie herself had been half-horrified, half-thrilled by how it had made her look. The colour was lovely-a deep, rich red-but it was made of cheap Lycra that had clung embarrassingly to every curve. Cut daringly short, it had such a low neckline that Cassie had had to keep tugging at it to stop herself spilling out. She cringed to think how fat and tarty she must have looked next to all those cool, skinny blondes dressed in black.

  On the other hand, it had worked.

  Rupert had definitely noticed her when she’d arrived, and that had given her the confidence to put Plan B into action. ‘You need to make him jealous,’ her best friend Tina had said. ‘Make him realise that you’re not just his for the taking-even if you are.’

  Emboldened by Rupert’s reaction, Cassie had smiled coolly and sashayed up to Jake instead. To this day, she didn’t know where she had found the nerve to do it; he had been on his own for once, and watching the proceedings with a cynical air.

  The Allantide Ball was a local tradition revived by Sir Ian, who had been obsessed by Cornish folklore. Less a formal ball than a big party, it was held in the Hall every year on 31st October, when the rest of the country was celebrating Hallowe’en, and everyone in Portrevick went, the one occasion when social divisions were put aside.

  In theory, if not in practice.

  Jake’s expression had not been encouraging, but Cassie had flirted with him anyway. Or she had thought she was flirting. In retrospect, her heavy-handed attempts to bat her lashes and look sultry must have been laughable, but at the time she had been quite pleased with herself.

  ‘OK, maybe I was flirting,’ she conceded. ‘That was no reason to…to…’

  ‘To kiss you?’ said Jake. ‘But how else were you to make Rupert jealous? That was the whole point of the exercise, wasn’t it?’

  Taking Cassie’s expression as an answer, he settled back into the saddle and regarded her with a mocking smile that made her want to slap him. ‘It was a good strategy,’ he congratulated her. ‘Rupert Branscombe Fox is the kind of jerk who’s only interested in what someone else has got. I’ll bet even as a small boy he only ever wanted to play with someone else’s toys. It was very astute of you to notice that.’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  She had just wanted Rupert to notice her. Was that so bad? And he had. It had worked perfectly.

  She just hadn’t counted on Jake taking her flirtation so seriously. He had taken her by the hand and pulled her outside. Catching a glimpse of Rupert watching her, Cassie had been delighted at first. She’d been expecting a kiss, but not the kiss that she got.

  It had begun with cool assurance-and, really, that would have been fine-but then something had changed. The coolness had become warmth, and then it had become heat, and then, worst of all, t
here had been a terrifying sweetness to it. Cassie had felt as if she were standing in a river with the sand rushing away beneath her feet, sucking her down into something wild and uncontrollable. She’d been terrified and exhilarated at the same time, and when Jake had let her go at last she had been shaking.

  It wasn’t even as if she liked Jake. He was the exact opposite of Rupert, who was the embodiment of a dream. Secretly, Cassie thought of them as Beauty and the Beast. Not that Jake was ugly, exactly, but he had dark, beaky features, a bitter mouth and angry eyes, while Rupert was all golden charm, like a prince in a fairy tale.

  ‘Much good it’ll do you,’ Jake was saying, reading her expression without difficulty. ‘You’re wasting your time. Rupert’s never going to bother with a nice girl like you.’

  ‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong,’ said Cassie, stung. ‘Maybe I did want to make him notice me, but it worked, didn’t it?’

  ‘You’re not asking me to believe that you’re Rupert’s latest girlfriend?’

  Cassie lifted her chin. ‘Believe what you want,’ she said. ‘It happens to be true.’

  But Jake only laughed. ‘Having sex with Rupert doesn’t make you his girlfriend, as you’ll soon find out,’ he said. He reached for his helmet again. ‘You need to grow up, Cassie. You’ve wandered around with your head in the clouds ever since you were a little kid, and it looks like you’re still living in a fantasy world. It’s time you woke up to reality!’

  ‘You’re just jealous of Rupert!’ Cassie accused him, her voice shaking with fury.

  ‘Because of you?’ Jake raised his dark brows contemptuously. ‘I don’t think so!’

  ‘Because he’s handsome and charming and rich and Sir Ian’s nephew, while you’re just…just…’ Too angry and humiliated to be cautious, she was practically toe to toe with him by now. ‘Just an animal.’

  And that was when Jake really did lose the temper he had been hanging onto by a thread all day. His hands shot out and yanked Cassie towards him so hard that she fell against him. Luckily his bike was still on its stand, or they would both have fallen over.

  ‘So you think I’m jealous of Rupert, do you?’ he snarled, shoving his hands into the mass of curls. ‘Well, maybe I am.’

  He brought his mouth down on hers in a hard, punishing kiss that had her squirming in protest, her palms jammed against his leather jacket, until abruptly the pressure softened.

  His lips didn’t leave hers, but he shifted slightly so that he could draw her more comfortably against him as he sat astride the bike. The fierce grip on her hair had loosened, and now her curls were twined around his fingers as the kiss grew seductively insistent.

  Cassie’s heart was pounding with that same mixture of fear and excitement, and she could feel herself losing her footing again. A surge of unfamiliar feeling was rapidly uncoiling inside her, so fast in fact that it was scaring her; her fingers curled instinctively into his leather jacket to anchor herself.

  And then-the bit that would make her cringe for years afterwards-somehow she actually found herself leaning into him to kiss him back.

  That was the point at which Jake let her go so abruptly that she stumbled back against the handlebars.

  ‘How dare you?’ Cassie managed, drawing a shaking hand across her mouth as she tried to leap away from the bike, only to find that her cardigan was caught up in the handlebars. Desperately, she tried to disentangle herself. ‘I never want to see you again!’

  ‘Don’t worry, you won’t have to.’ Infuriatingly casual, Jake leant forward to pull the sleeve free; she practically fell back in her haste to put some distance between them. ‘I’m leaving today. You stick to your fantasy life, Cassie,’ he told her as she huddled into her cardigan, hugging her arms together. ‘I’m getting out of here.’

  And with that, he calmly fastened his helmet, kicked the bike off its stand and into gear and roared off down the long drive-leaving Cassie staring after him, her heart tumbling with shock and humiliation and the memory of a deep, dark, dangerous excitement.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ten years later

  ‘JAKE Trevelyan?’ Cassie repeated blankly. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I wrote his name down. Where is it?’ Joss hunted through the mess on her desk and produced a scrap of paper. ‘Here-Jake Trevelyan,’ she read. ‘Somebody in Portrevick-isn’t that where you grew up?-recommended us.’

  Puzzled, Cassie dropped into the chair at her own desk. It felt very strange, hearing Jake’s name after all this time. She could still picture him with terrifying clarity, sitting astride that mean-looking machine, an angry young man with hard hands and a bitter smile. The memory of that kiss still had the power to make her toes curl inside her shoes.

  ‘He’s getting married?’

  ‘Why else would he get in touch with a wedding planner?’

  ‘I just can’t imagine it.’ The Jake Trevelyan Cassie had known wasn’t the type to settle down.

  ‘Luckily for us, he obviously can.’ Joss turned back to her computer. ‘He sounded keen, anyway, so I said you’d go round this afternoon.’

  ‘Me?’ Cassie looked at her boss in dismay. ‘You always meet the clients first.’

  ‘I can’t today. I’ve got a meeting with the accountant, which I’m not looking forward to at all. Besides, he knows you.’

  ‘Yes, but he hates me!’ She told Joss about that last encounter outside Portrevick Hall. ‘And what’s his fiancée going to think? I wouldn’t want to plan my wedding with someone who’d kissed my bridegroom.’

  ‘Teenage kisses don’t count.’ Joss waved them aside. ‘It was ten years ago. Chances are, he won’t even remember.’

  Cassie wasn’t sure if that would make her feel better or worse. She would just as soon Jake didn’t remember the gawky teenager who had thrown herself at him at the Allantide Ball, but what girl wanted to know that she was utterly forgettable?

  ‘Anyway, if he didn’t like you, why ring up and ask to speak to you?’ Joss asked reasonably. ‘We can’t afford to let a possible client slip through our fingers, Cassie. You know how tight things are at the moment. This is our best chance of new work in weeks, and if it means being embarrassed then I’m afraid you’re going to have to be embarrassed,’ she warned. ‘Otherwise, I’m really not sure how much longer I’m going to be able to keep you on.’

  Which was how Cassie came to stand outside a gleaming office-building that afternoon. Its windows reflected a bright September sky, and she had to crane her neck to look up to the top. Jake Trevelyan had done well for himself if he worked somewhere like this, she thought, impressed in spite of herself.

  Better than she had, that was for sure, thought Cassie, remembering Avalon’s chaotic office above the Chinese takeaway. Not that she minded. She had only been working for Joss a few months and she loved it. Wedding planning was far and away the best job she had ever had-Cassie had had a few, it had to be admitted-and she would do whatever it took to hang on to it. She couldn’t bear to admit to her family of super-achievers that she was out of work.

  Again.

  ‘Oh, darling!’ her mother would sigh with disappointment, while her father would frown and remind her that she should have gone to university like her elder sister and her two brothers, all of whom had high-flying careers.

  No, she had to keep this job, Cassie resolved, and if that meant facing Jake Trevelyan again then that was what she would do.

  Squaring her shoulders, she tugged her jacket into place and headed up the marble steps.

  Worms were squirming in the pit of her stomach but she did her best to ignore them. It was stupid to be nervous about seeing Jake again. She wasn’t a dreamy seventeen-year-old any longer. She was twenty-seven, and holding down a demanding job. People might not think that being a wedding planner was much of a career, but it required tact, diplomacy and formidable organizational-skills. If she could organise a wedding-well, help Joss organise one-she could deal with Jake Trevelyan.

  A glimpse of herself
in the mirrored windows reassured her. Luckily, she had dressed smartly to visit a luxurious hotel which one of their clients had chosen as a venue that morning. The teal-green jacket and narrow skirt gave her a sharp, professional image, Cassie decided, eyeing her reflection. Together with the slim briefcase, it made for an impressive look.

  Misleading, but impressive. She hardly recognised herself, so with any luck Jake Trevelyan wouldn’t recognise her either.

  Her only regret was the shoes. It wasn’t that they didn’t look fabulous-the teal suede with a black stripe was perfect with the suit-but she wasn’t used to walking on quite such high heels, and the lobby floor had an alarmingly, glossy sheen to it. It was a relief to get across to the reception desk without mishap.

  ‘I’m looking for a company called Primordia,’ she said, glancing down at the address Joss had scribbled down. ‘Can you tell me which floor it’s on?’

  The receptionist lifted immaculate brows. ‘This is Primordia,’ she said.

  ‘What, the whole building?’ Cassie’s jaw sagged as she stared around the soaring lobby, taking in the impressive artwork on the walls and the ranks of gleaming lifts with their lights going up, up, up…

  ‘Apparently he’s boss of some outfit called Primordia,’ Joss had said casually when she’d tossed the address across the desk.

  This didn’t look like an ‘outfit’ to Cassie. It looked like a solid, blue-chip company exuding wealth and prestige. Suddenly her suit didn’t seem quite so smart.

  ‘Um, I’m looking for someone called Jake Trevelyan,’ she told the receptionist. ‘I’m not sure which department he’s in.’

  The receptionist’s brows climbed higher. ‘Mr Trevelyan, our Chief Executive? Is he expecting you?’

  Chief Executive? Cassie swallowed. ‘I think so.’

  The receptionist turned away to murmur into the phone while Cassie stood, fingering the buttons on her jacket nervously. Jake Trevelyan, bad boy of Portrevick, Chief Executive of all this?