Kate Hewitt - Highly Unsuitable

Emily stepped into a soaring reception room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river. Just as Gillian had said, everything was black or white. Or black and white. Emily took in several very expensive looking black leather sofas, a coffee table of white marble that looked like a piece of modern sculpture, a canvas hanging over the black marble fireplace that was nothing more than a rectangle of white with one messy splotch of black ink in the bottom right corner. It had probably sold for thousands of pounds, Emily thought wryly, and it looked like something her niece had made by accident.

She glanced in the dining room and took in the huge ebony table and matching chairs, a thick snowy-white carpet and several more modern canvases—one black-and-white prison stripes, another like the stripes of a zebra. It was amazing. It was awful.

It revealed nothing about Jason, not the Jason she knew, the man who had always been there to bail her out and scold her afterwards, who managed to smile with both disapproval and amusement, whose eyes turned the colour of honey—

The man who had kissed her. And who had wanted to kiss her, maybe more than once.

The buzzer sounded and Emily jumped nearly a foot in the air. The caterers must have arrived. She and Helen exchanged guilty looks—they’d both been snooping—and Emily went to let them in.

The next hour was spent organising all the staff, checking on a thousand tiny details and dealing with the dozens of texts from Gillian, who still clearly wanted to have a hand in the operations.

‘I thought you were at a film,’ Emily said when Gillian rang her for the third time.

‘I am,’ Gillian told her. ‘Some boy band thing. It’s dire. Did the caterers find white asparagus?’

‘Yes, and black truffles.’ Even the canapés were black and white. ‘Don’t worry, Gillian. Just enjoy your time with your daughter.’

Gillian let out a rather trembling sigh. ‘It’s just so odd,’ she confessed in a low voice. ‘We haven’t spent much time together at all.’

Emily’s heart twisted in more sympathy than she’d ever had for Gillian before. ‘Then go spend some,’ she said, ‘boy band film and all.’

Finally, by half past six, almost everything was set up. Emily glanced at the makeshift bar, the string quartet, the caterers, and let out a breathy sigh of relief. She hadn’t realised how much organisation a party like this actually took.

‘Everything looks wonderful,’ Helen said, and Emily gave her a grateful smile.

‘Gillian said we could use the guest suites to shower and change—shall we get cleaned up?’

Helen nodded and, after grabbing their bags they headed down the long corridor—stark white walls and ebony flooring—towards the bedroom wing. Gillian had told her the guest rooms were the first two doors and, after Helen had disappeared into the first room, an irrepressible curiosity made Emily tiptoe towards the third and last door. Jason’s bedroom.

Her heart began to thud as she gently pushed open the door and stepped into the room. Her feet sank into the plush white carpet and she gazed at the king-sized bed with its black satin sheets. Although the sheets were drawn across the wide bed with military precision, she pictured them pulled back and rumpled, with Jason lying there—naked.

Good heavens. Where had that thought come from? It had sprung into her mind so suddenly, so vividly, that her cheeks burned and she glanced around guiltily. Still, she could imagine it all too easily and yet not at all, because nothing about this bed or room or entire flat made her think of Jason. And of course she’d never seen him naked. And most likely never would—

‘I think you’ve wandered into the wrong bedroom.’ Oh! Emily whirled around, one hand to her thumping heart. Jason stood in the doorway, his shoulder propped against the frame, one hand already starting to loosen his tie. His eyes glinted with humour and his mouth quirked upwards. ‘Haven’t you?’ he added so Emily’s face burned all the more and she could feel herself going scarlet. Lovely. Just the look she was going for.

She arched an eyebrow, tossing her hair over her shoulder. ‘I was just checking to see if there’s any colour in this place,’ she said, striving to sound nonchalant. ‘I have this mad urge to spill a can of red paint on your carpet.’

‘That sounds interesting,’ Jason said. ‘Although my decorator would have a fit. I suppose I can start with this.’ Emily watched in a sort of horrified fascination as Jason tugged off his tie—red silk—and tossed it onto a nearby chair. It landed on the white suede like a splash of paint. Emily swallowed.

‘That’s a start,’ she managed with a light little laugh. ‘Although this place still is rather stark.’ She gave him a teasing smile, the kind of smile she’d always given him, except now it felt like flirting. And, even stranger still, it felt like Jason was flirting back, an answering smile quirking the corners of his mouth— those lips —as he held her gaze a second longer than necessary. A second full of heat. She hadn’t imagined what he’d said at Stephanie’s wedding. What he’d wanted.

Emily cleared her throat. ‘I apologise for being so curious,’ she said after a few seconds as Jason simply gazed at her, his eyes sweeping over her rather dishevelled state, lingering on … certain places. Making her feel hot and shivery all at once. ‘Anyway,’ she said, struggling for words, for air, ‘I just couldn’t imagine you living in a place like this.’

‘I don’t live here very much, to tell you the truth,’ Jason replied. He dropped his attaché case by the bed and then shrugged out of his suit jacket, dropping it onto the same chair as the tie.

Emily watched his muscles ripple under the crisp white cotton. She’d never quite realised how built Jason was. Did he work out? Or did he just lift things when he was doing all that engineering stuff? She swallowed again and tore her gaze away from him. She had to get a grip on this conversation—or at least herself. ‘Now that you’re back for a bit perhaps you should invest in a new decorator.’

Jason chuckled. His fingers went to the buttons of his shirt. Was he actually undressing? Was he going to take his shirt off? Emily found she couldn’t breathe. She was staring at his hands as they slid the first button out of its hole and she caught a glimpse of the strong brown column of his throat.

‘I suppose I’ll never think of this place as home,’ Jason said musingly. He seemed unaware that he was undressing in front of her, or that she was staring. ‘Weldon will always be that.’

Weldon, Jason’s family estate, sprawling and comfortable, one of Surrey’s finest homes, yet he hadn’t been there properly in years. ‘Do you think you’ll move back there one day?’ she asked.

He paused, his fingers stilling on the buttons of his shirt. Her mesmerised stare finally broken, Emily lifted her gaze to Jason’s face. He was watching her with that same little knowing smile. Not so unaware, then. He knew he was unnerving her; he was teasing her. Like always. Except … not.

‘Yes, eventually. I’ll need to take care of the estate.’ A slight frown had settled between his brows, even as he undid another button.

Emily swallowed. ‘Yes … to produce that heir of yours, I suppose. Find any suitable candidates yet?’ The words held a bit of an edge, but her gaze was still hopelessly drawn to Jason’s shirt and how he was slowly—so slowly—unbuttoning it.

‘Actually, no,’ he said. ‘Not yet.’

And not her. The thought really shouldn’t bother her, Emily told herself almost frantically. She surely did not want to be in the running for that rather tedious role. And whatever was—or could be—between her and Jason, it certainly wasn’t marriage. Or love.