by Jessica Hart
She swallowed the tightness from her throat. ‘It’s really lovely,’ she told him. ‘It must have been terribly expensive. Will you be able to take it back when this is all over?’ she said, just to reassure him that she hadn’t forgotten that they were just pretending.
Jake was shrugging himself into his coat. ‘I expect so,’ he said.
‘I’ll take great care of it,’ Cassie promised, overwhelmed by the feel of the ring on her finger.
She had never worn anything remotely as beautiful or as valuable, and the thought that Jake had chosen it for her made the breath snare again in her throat. He could have picked out a plain diamond, which would have done the job just as well, but instead he had bought this.
‘It’s gorgeous,’ she said, turning her hand so that the gems flashed in the light. ‘Look what a beautiful warm glow it has.’
Jake didn’t need to look. The glowing warmth was the reason he had bought the ring. It had reminded him of her.
‘Does it fit?’ he asked.
‘It’s a tiny bit loose, maybe,’ said Cassie, turning the ring on her finger. ‘But it’ll be fine just for a couple of evenings. How on earth did you know what size to get?’
‘One of the assistants in the shop had hands about the same size as yours.’
Cassie didn’t think Jake had ever noticed her hands. The thought that he had felt like a tiny shiver deep inside her.
‘Well…thank you,’ she said.
An awkward silence fell. If it had been anyone else, Cassie wouldn’t have hesitated to kiss him. Just on the cheek, of course; it was the obvious way to thank him for choosing such a lovely ring for her to wear, even if only temporarily.
But Jake had stepped back after giving her the box, and now he wasn’t close enough for her to give him a quick hug or brush her cheek against his. She would have had to walk across to him, and that would have made too much of a big deal of it, wouldn’t it? It wasn’t as if he had given her the ring because he loved her. He had agreed that it was just a prop.
Jake put an end to her dithering by looking at his watch. ‘We’d better go,’ he said. ‘We’re late.’
Outside, it was still raining. The tyres of the passing cars hissed on the wet tarmac, and the pavements gleamed with puddles. Cassie huddled into her coat. It was only the middle of September, but the temperature had dropped over the last few days, and there was an unmistakable smell of autumn in the air.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘The Strand,’ said Jake, and her face fell.
‘That’s miles!’
‘It’s too far for you to walk in those shoes, certainly,’ he said, nodding down at them.
‘What shall we do? We’ll never get a taxi in this weather.’
The words were barely out of Cassie’s mouth when Jake put two fingers in his mouth and produced a piercing whistle that had a taxi heading in the opposite direction, turning instantly and ignoring the blare of horns to cut right across the traffic and pull up in front of them.
‘Well, that was annoying,’ said Cassie as Jake opened the door with a mocking bow. ‘But a relief too,’ she decided, sinking back into the seat and fastening her seatbelt.
‘The Savoy,’ Jake told the taxi driver, and sat back beside her. ‘Why don’t you wear something more sensible on your feet?’ he said, half-relieved to find something to irritate him again. He scowled at her shoes. ‘Look at them-they’re ridiculous!’
‘They’re not ridiculous!’ Stung, Cassie stuck her legs straight out in front of her so she could admire her shoes. Perhaps the heels weren’t that practical, but she loved the sling backs, and the cute, peep-toe effect, and the hot pink was a fabulous colour. ‘They’re party shoes. I couldn’t wear sensible shoes with a party dress, now, could I? That really would be ridiculous!’
Jake wished she’d put her legs down. They were distracting him. She was distracting him.
He had to keep reminding himself that this was Cassie. He’d known her as an eager child, as an ungainly adolescent. She had never been cool, clever or graceful, or any of the things he admired in a girl. She was an unstable force, chaotic and uncontrollable.
And now that force was bouncing uncontrollably around in his carefully constructed life.
Jake didn’t like it one little bit. He had spent ten years fighting his way to the top, ten years making sure he never had to go back to Portrevick. He had changed himself quite deliberately. He had had enough of being the child wearing cast-offs, the troublemaker, the one who made eyebrows twitch suspiciously whenever he walked along the street. He had made himself cool, focused, guarded. Invulnerable.
Until Rupert Branscombe Fox had cracked his defences by taking Natasha from him, and Cassie had kicked them down completely the moment she’d laid her mouth against his.
Dragging his eyes from Cassie’s legs, Jake made himself look out of the window. They were driving along the Embankment, and the Thames gleamed grey and oily in the rain, but he didn’t see the river. He saw Cassie-her eyes dark and glowing in candlelight. Cassie perched on the table at Portrevick Hall, swinging her legs. Cassie laughing as she tried on a fancy tiara. Cassie looking down at the ring on her finger.
He was disturbingly aware of her warm, bright presence on the other side of the taxi. Her perfume was already achingly familiar. When had that happened? His careful life seemed to be unravelling by the minute, and Jake didn’t like the feeling at all.
Completely unaware of the desperate trend of his thoughts, Cassie was patting her hair, trying to smooth it into some kind of shape. Jake’s hands itched to do it for her, to slide into the soft curls, the way they had in the restaurant before that buffoon Giovanni had interrupted them. He imagined twisting its silkiness around his fingers, tucking it neatly behind her delicate ears, and then he could let his hands drift down her throat, let his lips follow…
‘Is this it?’ said Cassie, leaning forward to peer through the window as the taxi drew up outside the hotel, and Jake had to unscramble his thoughts enough to pay the taxi driver.
At least he had a few minutes to pull himself together while Cassie disappeared into a cloakroom to leave her coat and check her make-up. Adjusting the knot of his tie, he made himself think of something other than Cassie and the strange, disturbing way she made him feel. He remembered Portrevick instead, and the grim house where he had grown up. That was always a good way to remind himself of the importance of control. He thought about his mother’s worn face, and the long, silent bus rides to visit his father in prison.
And then he thought about Rupert’s supercilious smile and his jaw tightened. If it wasn’t for Rupert, he wouldn’t be in this mess. If it wasn’t for Rupert, he and Natasha could have posed for a few photographs for this damned article and that would have been that. If it wasn’t for Rupert, he would never have kissed Cassie, and he wouldn’t be standing here now, unable to shake the feel of her, the taste of her, the scent of her from his mind.
Jake gave his tie a final wrench and looked at his watch. What the hell was Cassie doing in there? He was just getting ready to storm into the Ladies and drag her out when she appeared, smoothing down her dress. It was short and simply cut, and held up with tiny spaghetti-straps that left her shoulders bare. The colour-less a blue than a purple, he could see now-was so vivid that it dazzled the eye-or maybe that was just Cassie, Jake thought as the breath leaked from his lungs. She looked warm, lush, bright and unbelievably sexy. As she walked towards him he couldn’t help remembering another time, ten years ago, when she had walked towards him in a different dress.
Cassie was smiling as she walked towards him, but as she got closer and her eyes met that dark, deep-blue gaze she faltered and the smile evaporated from her face. All at once, the air seemed to close around them, sealing them into an invisible bubble and sucking the air out of her lungs. The babble and laughter from Reception inside the big doors faded, and there was just Jake, watching her with unfathomable eyes, and a silence that stretched and tw
anged with the memory of how it had felt to kiss him.
Suddenly ridiculously shy, she struggled to think of something to say. Something other than ‘kiss me again’, anyway. ‘How do I look?’ was the best she could do.
‘Very nice,’ said Jake.
He couldn’t have said anything better to break the tension, thought Cassie gratefully. ‘No,’ she told him, rolling her eyes. ‘Not “very nice”. You’re in love with me, remember? Tell me I look beautiful or gorgeous or sexy-anything but very nice!’
‘Maybe I won’t say anything at all,’ said Jake. ‘Maybe I’ll just do this instead.’ And, putting his hands to her waist, he drew her to him and kissed her.
His lips were warm and persuasive, and wickedly exciting. Afterwards, Cassie thought that she should have resisted somehow, but at the time it felt so utterly natural that she melted into him without even a token protest. Her hands spread over his broad chest, and she parted her lips with a tiny murmur low in her throat.
It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was a very thorough one, and Cassie’s knees were weak when Jake let her go.
‘Sometimes actions speak louder than words,’ he said.
From somewhere, Cassie produced a smile. It felt a little unsteady, but at least it was a smile. At least she could pretend that her heart wasn’t thudding, that her bones hadn’t dissolved, and that her arms weren’t aching to cling to him. That she didn’t desperately, desperately want him to kiss her again.
‘That’s better,’ she said, astonished at how steady her voice sounded. ‘See how convincing you can be when you try?’
‘Let’s hope we can convince everyone else too,’ said Jake. ‘Ready?’
Of course she wasn’t ready! How could he kiss her like that and then expect her to calmly swan into a party and act like a chief executive’s fiancée-whatever one of those was like?
But she had agreed, and to make some feeble excuse now would just make it look as if she had been thrown into confusion by a meaningless kiss. Even if she had, Cassie didn’t want Jake to know it.
She drew a deep breath. ‘Ready,’ she said.
Jake kept a hand at the small of her back as they made their way through the crowd. Cassie was intensely aware of it, and even when he dropped his arm she could feel its warmth like a tingling imprint on her skin burnt through the fabric of her dress.
She was nervous at first, but Jake seemed to know a lot of people there, and everyone was very friendly. There was quite a bit of interest when he introduced her as his fiancée, and Cassie wondered how many of them had known Natasha. It soon became clear, in fact, that they should have prepared their story more carefully.
‘So, where did you pop up from, Cassie?’ someone asked, and Jake put an arm around her waist.
‘We knew each other years ago,’ he said. ‘We met up again recently.’
‘Oh, so you’ve found your first love again? How sweet!’
‘Well, not really,’ said Jake, just as Cassie said,
‘Yes. Jake was the first boy who ever kissed me.’
There was a tiny silence. ‘Jake wasn’t in love with me.’ Cassie rose to the occasion magnificently. ‘But I had a thing about him for years. Didn’t I?’ she said to Jake, but he was looking so baffled that she swept on, feeling rather like Michelle at the wedding fair. ‘Anyway, the moment we met up again, it just clicked.’
She chattered on, inventing an entire love-affair while Jake watched her distractedly. He had been completely thrown by that kiss out there in the lobby. What had possessed him to kiss her like that? But she had looked so warm and enticing, he couldn’t help himself. Now he could still taste the soft lips that had parted in surprise, still feel her body melting into his.
As the party wore on, Jake was achingly aware of Cassie by his side, a vibrant, glowing figure chatting animatedly to whoever they met. She was behaving beautifully-much better than him, anyway, Jake thought. Look at her, showing off her ring, turning a laughing face to his, leaning into him as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to be here with him.
It was obvious that everyone found her so charming that Jake began to feel almost resentful. He didn’t want Cassie to be able to play her role so well. He wanted her to be as disconcerted by him as he was by her.
She seemed to be managing perfectly well on her own, so he joined a neighbouring group in the hope that a little distance would help. But it was almost impossible to concentrate on chit-chat when he could feel Cassie somewhere behind him, not touching him, not talking to him, not even looking at him, but her presence as immediate as if she had laid a hand against his bare skin.
Jake finished his champagne in a gulp and looked around for a fresh glass, only to find himself face to face with the two people he least wanted to see. They saw him at the same time. Natasha looked appalled, Rupert predictably amused.
‘Well, well, look who’s here,’ said Rupert. ‘We’d no idea you’d be here too, Jake-but it’s inevitable we had to meet some time, I suppose. Much best to get the first meeting over in civilised surroundings, I can’t help feeling. After all, we’re a little old for pistols at dawn, don’t you think?’
Jake ignored that. ‘Rupert,’ he acknowledged him curtly. ‘And Natasha.’ It was odd, he thought, how much of a stranger she seemed already. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said, but Jake didn’t think that she was looking her best. She was still beautiful, of course, but after Cassie she seemed a bit muted. She had none of Cassie’s vitality, none of her warmth. It was hard to remember now how bitter he had felt at losing her.
Rupert put his arm around her. ‘We’ve just been talking about getting married, haven’t we, darling?’ The question was for Natasha, but the words were aimed squarely at Jake. Rupert’s smile was slyly triumphant. ‘It’s an awkward situation, knowing how much Natasha meant to you, but we hope you’ll be pleased for us.’
‘Or are you just hoping that I’ll end the trust?’ Jake asked.
‘I believe marriage to a sensible woman was the condition-and Natasha is certainly that, aren’t you, sweetheart?’
‘Settling down was also a condition,’ said Jake. ‘When you’ve been married a year or so, I’ll consider it.’
There was an unpleasant silence. Jake and Rupert eyed each other with acute dislike, and Jake found himself longing for Cassie. He could hardly go and drag her away from the conversation she was having just because he was confronting Rupert and Natasha on his own.
But suddenly there she was anyway, almost as if she’d sensed that he needed her, touching his rigid back, tucking her hand into his arm. Jake felt something unlock inside his chest.
Cassie studied Natasha. She was very lovely, with immaculate, silvery-blonde hair, green eyes, flawless skin, and intimidatingly well-groomed. From her perfect eyebrows to the tips of her beautifully manicured nails, Natasha was a model of elegance and restraint. She was wearing a simple top and silk trousers, but the combination of subdued neutrals and striking jewellery was wonderful.
‘Classy’ was the only word Cassie could think of to describe her, and her heart sank. Next to Natasha, she felt like a garish lump.
Why hadn’t she thought to wear black or elegant neutral colours like every other woman here? Cassie wondered miserably. She should have known this would be a sophisticated party. She looked ludicrously out of place in her vivid, purple dress and pink shoes. No wonder Jake had been distracted since they’d come in. He must be horribly embarrassed by her. He was used to being with Natasha, who fitted into this world in a way she never could.
How awful for Jake, to come face to face with the woman he loved on the arm of a man he hated, and to realise just what he had lost. Cassie had sensed his sudden tension somehow, and had turned to see him with Rupert and a woman she had known instantly was Natasha. His shoulders were set rigidly, and his back when she had touched it to let him know that she was there had been as stiff and as unyielding as a plank.
Well, she might not be N
atasha, but she was here, and she could help him through this awkward meeting if nothing else.
Forcing a smile, Cassie turned her attention to Rupert. Even if she hadn’t seen his photo in the papers over the years, she would have recognised him. He was still astonishingly good-looking, with golden hair, chiselled features and mesmerising blue eyes. It was only when you looked a little closer that you could see the lines of dissipation around his eyes.
And the faint bump in his nose where it had been broken.
Cassie hoped Jake could see it, too.
‘Hello, Rupert,’ she said pleasantly.
Rupert looked at her, arrested. ‘Do we know each other?’
‘We used to,’ said Cassie. ‘Portrevick?’ she prompted him. ‘Cassie Grey? My father was Sir Ian’s estate manager.’
‘Good God, Cassie! I do remember now, but I would never have recognised you.’ Rupert’s eyes ran over her appreciatively. ‘Well, well, well,’ he drawled, evidently remembering how she had looked the last time he’d seen her. ‘Who would have thought it? You look absolutely gorgeous! How lovely to see you, darling.’ Taking his arm from around Natasha, he kissed her warmly on both cheeks.
The force of his charm was hard to resist, but Cassie felt Jake stiffen, and she made herself step back. ‘How are you, Rupert?’
‘All the better for seeing you,’ he said, eyeing her with lazy appreciation. ‘Where have you been hiding yourself all these years?’
How odd, thought Cassie. Here she was with Rupert, who hadn’t recognised her, and was doing a very good impression of being bowled over by her looks. It was just like her fantasy.
But in her fantasy she hadn’t been aware of Jake beside her, dark and rigid with hostility. She could see a muscle twitching in his jaw. He must be hating this.
‘Growing up,’ she said, and for the first time realised that it was true. She could look at Rupert and see that he was just a handsome face, a teenage fantasy, but not a man you could ever build a real relationship with. Had Natasha come to realise that as well? Cassie wondered. It seemed to her that the other woman’s eyes were on Jake rather than Rupert, and when Cassie took Jake’s hand Natasha’s gaze sharpened unmistakably.
