Under the Boss’s Mistletoe

by Jessica Hart

  Cassie coloured with pleasure. ‘I’m glad you like it. I think it’ll look good in the photos. The local paper are sending someone to cover the ball, and they’re going to mention the fact that the Hall is being developed as a venue-so that should get us some coverage locally, at least.

  ‘Oh, by the way,’ she said, carefully casual, ‘word has got out about our supposed engagement, so I thought I’d better move into the Hall with you. It’s not as if we’re short of bedrooms here, and it might look a bit odd if I was engaged to you but still staying chastely with Tina.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Jake, too heartily. The idea of Cassie moving in with him was like a shot of adrenalin. He knew quite well that she wouldn’t be sharing a bedroom with him, but still there was a moment when the blood roared in his ears and he felt quite lightheaded. ‘Good idea.’

  He cleared his throat, wondering how to get off the subject of bedrooms. ‘How many people are you expecting tonight?’ he asked Cassie.

  ‘I’m not sure. Probably about a hundred and fifty or so,’ she guessed. ‘More or less the same as usual. Everyone I’ve spoken to in the village has said they’re coming.’

  She didn’t add that she suspected that most of them were curious to see Jake again. ‘I’ve put notices up in the local pubs, the way Sir Ian used to do, so we may have some people from round about, too.’

  Jake ran his finger around his collar. ‘I’m not sure how I feel about confronting so much of my past in one fell swoop,’ he admitted.

  ‘It’ll be fine.’ Cassie laid a hand on his arm, her brown eyes warm. ‘Everyone knows the truth about Sir Ian’s will. They’re prepared to accept you for how you are now.’

  Jake didn’t believe that for a moment, but he was too proud to admit that he was dreading the evening ahead. ‘What time are they all coming?’

  ‘Seven o’clock.’ Cassie looked at the old clock still ticking steadily after all these years. ‘We’d better get changed.’

  ‘I hope you’re not wearing that black dress again,’ said Jake as they moved towards the stairs.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘You made such a fuss about that, I thought I’d wear a red one this time.’

  ‘A red one?’ Jake paused with one foot on the first step. ‘Like the one you wore to the last Allantide Ball?’

  Their eyes met, and the memory of how they had kissed that evening shimmered in the air so vividly that Cassie could almost reach out and touch it. A tinge of colour crept into her cheeks. ‘I hope this one is a little more classy.’

  ‘Shame,’ said Jake lightly. ‘Does that mean you’re not going to flirt with me again?’

  ‘I might do,’ said Cassie, equally lightly, but the moment the words were out she wanted to call them back. If she was going to flirt with Jake, was she going to kiss him too? The question seemed to reverberate in the sudden silence: did flirting mean kissing…kissing…kissing?

  She swallowed and set off up the stairs. ‘Only if I have time-and nothing better to do, of course.’ She tried to joke her way out of it.

  ‘Of course,’ Jake agreed dryly.

  ‘Use this bathroom here,’ he said, leading her down a long, draughty corridor. He pointed at a door. ‘It’s the warmest, and the only one with halfway decent plumbing.’

  Cassie tried to calm her galloping pulse as she showered and changed into the dress she had bought after Jake had so summarily rejected her foray into black elegance. This one was a lovely cherry-red, and the slinky fabric draped beautifully over her curves and fell to her ankles. It had a halter neck and a daringly low back. Her mother would have taken one look at it and told her that she would catch her death and should cover up with a cardigan, but Cassie wasn’t cold at all. The thought of Jake in the shower just down the hall was keeping her nicely heated, thank you.

  She leant towards the mirror to put on her make-up, but her hand wasn’t quite steady; she kept remembering the look in Jake’s eyes when he’d asked if she was going to flirt with him the way she had ten years ago.

  She was no good at this ‘just being friends’ thing, Cassie decided. A friend would have treated his question as a joke. Had she done that? No, she had given him a smouldering look under her lashes. I might do, she had said.

  Cassie cringed at the memory. Good grief, why hadn’t she just offered herself on a plate while she was at it? She would have to try harder to be cool, she decided. But she couldn’t stop the treacherous excitement flickering along her veins and simmering under her skin as she slid the ruby ring onto her finger, took a deep breath and went to find Jake.

  He was still in his room, but the door was open. Cassie knocked lightly. ‘Ready?’ she asked.

  ‘Nearly.’ Jake was fastening his cuffs, a black bow-tie hanging loose around his neck. Glancing up from his wrists, he did a double take as he saw her standing in the doorway, vibrant and glowing in the stunning red dress.

  For a moment, he couldn’t say anything. ‘You look…incredible,’ he said, feeling like a stuttering schoolboy.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Mouth dry, Jake turned away. ‘I’ll be with you in a second,’ he managed, marvelling at how normal he sounded. ‘I just have to do something about this damned tie.’ He stood in front of the mirror and lifted his chin, grimacing in frustration as he attempted to tie it with fingers that felt thick and unwieldy. ‘I hate these things,’ he scowled.

  ‘Here, let me do it.’ Cassie stopped hovering in the doorway to come and push his hands away from the mess he was making with the tie. ‘I deal with these all the time at weddings. Stand still.’

  Jake stood rigidly, staring stolidly ahead. He was excruciatingly aware of her standing so close to him. He could smell her warm, clean skin, and the fresh scent of her shampoo drifted enticingly from her soft curls, as if beckoning him to bury his face in them.

  In spite of himself, his gaze flickered down. Cassie’s expression was intent, a faint pucker between her brows as she concentrated on the tie with deft fingers. He could see her dark lashes, the sweet curve of her cheek, and he had to clench his fists to stop himself reaching for her.

  ‘OK, that’ll do.’ Cassie gave the tie a final pat and stood back. And made the fatal mistake of looking into his eyes.

  The dark-blue depths seemed to suck her in, making the floor unsteady beneath her feet, and her mind reeled. Cassie could feel herself swaying back towards him, pulled as if by an invisible magnet, and her hands were actually lifting to reach for him when Jake stepped abruptly back.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said hoarsely, and cleared his throat. ‘That looks very professional.’

  Cassie’s pulse was booming in her ears. She moistened her lips. ‘I should go down-see if the caterers need a hand.’

  She practically ran down the stairs. Oh God, one more second there and she would have flung herself at him! It had taken all her concentration to fasten that tie when every instinct had been shrieking at her to rip it off him, to undo his buttons, to pull the shirt out of his trousers and press her lips to his bare chest. To run her hands feverishly over him, to reach for his belt, to drag him down onto the floor there and then. What if Jake had seen it in her eyes?

  Well, what if he had? Cassie slowed as she reached the bottom of the staircase. It wasn’t as if either of them had any commitments. They were both single, both unattached. Why not act on the attraction that had jarred the air between them just now?

  Because Jake had felt it too, Cassie was sure.

  The prospect set a warm thrill quivering deep inside her. It grew steadily, spilling heat through her as she helped a tense Jake greet the first arrivals, until she felt as if she were burning with it.

  Cassie was convinced everyone must be able to see the naked desire in her face, but if they could nobody commented. There was much oohing and aahing about the decorations instead, and undisguised curiosity about Jake and their apparent engagement, of course. But nobody seemed to think that there was anything odd about the feverish heat that must surely be radiating out of ever
y pore.

  She kept an anxious eye on Jake, knowing how much he had been dreading the evening. He might not think he could do social chit-chat, but it seemed to Cassie that he was managing fine. Only a muscle jumping in his cheek betrayed his tension. She had felt him taut beside her at the beginning, but as he relaxed gradually Cassie left him to it. Standing next to him was too tempting, and it wouldn’t do to jump him right in front of everyone.

  Smiling and chatting easily, she moved around the Hall. Having grown up in Portrevick, she knew almost everyone there, and they all wanted to know about her parents, brothers and sister. Normally, Cassie would have been very conscious of how unimpressive her own achievements were compared to the rest of the family’s, but tonight she was too aware of Jake to care. She talked about how Liz juggled her family and her career, about Jack’s promotion, about the award Tom had won-but her attention was on Jake, who was looking guarded, but obviously making an effort for the village that had rejected him.

  Cassie was talking to one of her mother’s old bridge friends when she became aware of a stir by the main door, and she looked over to see Rupert and Natasha stroll in, looking impossibly glamorous. Her first reaction was one of fury-that they should turn up, tonight of all nights, to make the ball even more difficult for Jake than it needed to be.

  Jake had his back to the door and hadn’t seen them yet. Cassie excused herself and hurried over to intercept Rupert and Natasha. ‘I’m surprised to see you here,’ she said, although she was more surprised at how irritated she was by Rupert’s ostentatiously warm greeting.

  ‘I saw the ball advertised, and thought we would drop in for old times’ sake,’ said Rupert. ‘After all, Sir Ian was my uncle.’ He looked nostalgically around the great hall. ‘Besides, I wanted Natasha to see the house where I grew up.’

  ‘You only came for part of the summer holidays,’ Cassie pointed out, knowing that what Rupert really wanted to do was flaunt Natasha in front of Jake and remind him of his humiliation.

  ‘Now, why do I get the impression you’re not pleased to see me, Cassie?’ Rupert smiled and leant closer. ‘Or is it possible that you’re not pleased to see Natasha?’ he murmured in her ear.

  Natasha, looking cool and lovely, was standing a little apart, her green eyes wandering around the great hall. She might have been admiring the architecture, but Cassie was sure that she was searching for Jake, and her lips tightened.

  ‘Oh, dear, I suppose it was a bit tactless of us to come,’ Rupert went on with mock regret. ‘Jake did adore her so, and you can see why. She’s perfection, isn’t she?’

  ‘She’s very beautiful,’ Cassie said shortly, thinking that that really was tactless of Rupert. As Jake’s fiancée, she was hardly likely to want to hear about how much he had loved another woman, was she? ‘But looks aren’t everything, Rupert. Jake’s in love with me now.’

  ‘Is he?’ Rupert’s smile broadened as he looked down into Cassie’s face. ‘You don’t think there could be a little touch of the rebound going on? Or even, dare I say it, a little face-saving, hmm? He did get together with you very quickly after Natasha left, after all.’

  Cassie met his amused blue eyes as steadily as she could. Rupert might be extraordinarily handsome, but he wasn’t stupid. ‘Think what you want, Rupert,’ she said as she turned on her heel. ‘Jake loves me and I love him.’

  She heard the words fall from her lips, and the truth hit her like a splash of cold water in her face: she did love Jake. Why hadn’t she realised it before? It had snuck up on her without her realising.

  Trembling as if she had had a shock, Cassie looked around for Jake and caught a glimpse of him through the crowd, standing almost exactly where he had been standing ten years ago. He was momentarily alone, looking dark and formidable, and the sight of him was like a great vise squeezing her entrails.

  Cassie knew why she hadn’t wanted to see the truth. It was impossible that a man like Jake could love her back. Rupert was right, of course. Jake had adored Natasha. He had told her so himself, hadn’t he? If he had indeed felt the…something fizzing between them, Cassie was fairly sure that he would think of it as no more than a physical attraction.

  Well, that might be enough, Cassie told herself as she wove her way through the chattering groups towards him, very aware of Rupert’s mocking gaze following her. She would convince him that what was between her and Jake was real-even if it wasn’t-and, if that meant seducing Jake, so much the better.

  She wouldn’t fool herself that it could last for ever, but she could at least make the most of the time she did have with him. She could save Jake’s face and assuage the terrible need that was thudding and thumping in the pit of her belly at the same time.

  So she smiled at Jake and ran her hand lightly down the sleeve of his dinner jacket, hoping if nothing else to distract him from the fact that Natasha and Rupert were here. ‘I thought I’d come and see if my flirting technique is any better than ten years ago.’

  Amusement bracketed his mouth, but his eyes were hot and dark as they ran over her. ‘The thing about wearing a dress like that is that you don’t need to flirt. You don’t need to say anything at all. You just need to stand there and look like that.’

  Cassie swallowed. ‘Gosh, you’re much better at flirting than I am!’

  ‘You haven’t even started yet,’ Jake pointed out. ‘I’m waiting for you to do your worst. Get those eyelashes batting!’ The dark-blue gaze came up to meet hers, and their smiles faded in unison. ‘Come on-flirt with me, Cassie,’ he said softly, and her breath snared in her throat.

  Her heart, which had been pounding away like mad, had decelerated suddenly to a painful slam, so slow that she was afraid that it might stop altogether.

  ‘I…can’t,’ she whispered, unable to tear her eyes from his, and Jake lifted a gentle hand to run a finger down her cheek, searing her skin with its caress.

  ‘Shall we skip the flirting, then?’ His voice was very deep and very low. ‘Shall we just go straight to the kissing?’

  Unable to speak, Cassie nodded dumbly. She had forgotten Rupert, forgotten Natasha, forgotten that they were surrounded by the whole of Portrevick. As far as she was concerned, they could sink right down onto the stone flags together and make love right there. But Jake, more aware of everyone around them, took her hand and pulled her out along the corridor and onto the side terrace, just as he had done ten years ago.

  Like then, it was cold and drizzly, but neither of them noticed. The door banged behind them, and Jake was already sliding his fingers into Cassie’s hair the way he had fantasised about doing for so long. His mouth came down hungrily on hers and they kissed fiercely, almost desperately.

  Cassie grabbed his shirt, holding on to it for dear life; suppressed excitement was unleashed by the touch of his lips and rocketed through her so powerfully that she could have sworn she felt her feet leave the ground.

  God, it felt so good to be kissing him! He tasted wonderful, he felt wonderful, so hard, so strong, so gloriously, solidly male. She slid her arms around him to pull him tighter, her pulse roaring in her ears, as Jake backed her into the wall, his hands moving possessively, insistently, over her, making her dress ruck and slither, smoothing warm hands down her bare back.

  ‘I’ve wanted this for weeks,’ he whispered unevenly in her ear, when they broke for breath.

  ‘I think I’ve wanted it for ten years,’ she said, equally shaky.

  ‘Liar,’ Jake laughed softly, but his mouth was drifting down her throat, making her gasp and arch her head to one side. ‘You wanted Rupert.’

  It was hard to think clearly with his lips teasing their way along her jaw and his fingers tracing wicked patterns on her skin. ‘I don’t want Rupert now,’ she managed raggedly, clutching her hands in his dark hair. ‘I want you.’

  Jake lifted his head at that and took her face between his hands, looking deep into her eyes. ‘Are you sure, Cassie?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ she said, reaching for him again. ‘I’
m quite sure.’

  Cassie drew a long, shuddering sigh of sheer pleasure and snuggled closer into Jake. Her head was on his shoulder, and his arm was around her, warm and strong, holding her securely as they waited for their heart rates to subside and their breathing to steady. She suspected Jake had fallen asleep, but her blood was still fizzing with a strange mixture of peace and exhilaration. She could feel herself glowing, radiating, shimmering with such contentment that she was surprised she wasn’t lighting the dark room. Plug her in and she could power a chandelier, if not a city full of street lights. They could keep her as an emergency backup for the energy crisis. Who needed a nuclear power-station when all Jake had to do was make love to her like that?

  Somehow they had got themselves from the terrace to Jake’s room. Cassie had no idea whether anyone had seen them and she didn’t care. Nothing had mattered but Jake: the feel of him, the taste of him, the sureness of his hands, the delicious drift of his lips, the hard possession of his body.

  Cassie felt giddy just thinking about that heady blur of sensation. They had lost all sense of time, of place. Nothing had existed except touch-there…there…yes, there…yes, yes-need so powerful that it hurt, and excitement that spun like a dervish, faster and faster, terrifyingly faster, until they lost control of it and it shattered in a burst of heart-stopping glory.

  Downstairs, Cassie could hear the muted sounds of the Allantide Ball still in full swing without them, and felt sanity creeping back. It wasn’t entirely welcome, she realised, and wondered if Rupert was still down there.

  And Natasha.

  What was it Rupert had said? A little touch of the rebound going on? Jake did adore her so.

  He had. Cassie remembered him telling her about Natasha the first time they had driven down here together. She’s perfect, he had said. She was everything he’d ever wanted.

  Which made her just someone to catch him on the rebound.

  Cassie sighed and stroked the broad chest she was resting so comfortably against. What did she have to offer, after all? Look at her, the failure of her family. She wasn’t beautiful, wasn’t successful, wasn’t accomplished, wasn’t calm and sensible. She couldn’t begin to compare with Natasha.