KATE HEWITTdiscovered her first Mills & Boon® romance on a trip to England when she was thirteen and she’s continued to read them ever since. She wrote her first short story at the age of five, simply because her older brother had written one and she thought she could do it too. That story was one sentence long—fortunately they’ve become a bit more detailed as she’s grown older. She has written plays, short stories and magazine serials for many years, but writing romance remains her first love. Besides writing, she enjoys reading, travelling and learning to knit.
After marrying the man of her dreams—her older brother’s childhood friend—she lived in England for six years, and now resides in Connecticut with her husband, her three young children and the possibility of one day getting a dog.
Kate loves to hear from readers—you can contact her through her website: www.katehewitt.com.
Highly Unsuitable
Mr and Mischief
The Darkest of Secrets
The Undoing of de Luca
Kate Hewitt
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Cover
About the Author KATE HEWITT discovered her first Mills & Boon® romance on a trip to England when she was thirteen and she’s continued to read them ever since. She wrote her first short story at the age of five, simply because her older brother had written one and she thought she could do it too. That story was one sentence long—fortunately they’ve become a bit more detailed as she’s grown older. She has written plays, short stories and magazine serials for many years, but writing romance remains her first love. Besides writing, she enjoys reading, travelling and learning to knit. After marrying the man of her dreams—her older brother’s childhood friend—she lived in England for six years, and now resides in Connecticut with her husband, her three young children and the possibility of one day getting a dog. Kate loves to hear from readers—you can contact her through her website: www.katehewitt.com .
Title Page Highly Unsuitable Mr and Mischief The Darkest of Secrets The Undoing of de Luca Kate Hewitt www.millsandboon.co.uk
Mr and Mischief Mr and Mischief
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Darkest of Secrets
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
The Undoing of de Luca
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Endpage
Copyright
Mr and Mischief
‘IT LOOKS like I missed the party.’
Emily Wood turned from her rather dour perusal of the leaving-party detritus, surprised that anyone was left. Stephanie had gone an hour ago, full of high spirits and plans for her wedding in a month’s time, and the rest of the employees had trickled away afterwards, leaving nothing but a few tables of crumb-scattered plates and glasses of now-flat champagne in the office’s party room.
‘Jason!’ The name burst from her lips as she stared in surprise at the man lounging against the doorway. ‘You’re back!’
‘My plane landed an hour ago,’ Jason replied, glancing ruefully around at the mess. ‘I thought I might make the end of the party, but obviously I was mistaken.’
‘Just in time for the clean-up,’ Emily replied lightly. She crossed the room and, standing on her tiptoes, reached up to kiss his cheek. ‘How lovely to see you.’ His skin was warm and she inhaled the citrusy tang of his aftershave; the scent was more pungent than one she would have associated with stoic, straight-as-an-arrow Jason, the boy who had kept her out of trouble, the man who had left Highfield for a high-profile career in civil engineering. He was her boss and oldest family friend, although whether he was her friend was another matter altogether. Looking at his rather cool expression now, Emily remembered how Jason always seemed to disapprove of her just a bit.
She stepped back with a brisk smile. Jason hadn’t moved, but Emily was gratified to see the tiniest quirk of his mouth. Amazing, but it almost looked like a smile. ‘I didn’t know you were due back in London.’ As founder and CEO of Kingsley Engineering, Jason travelled for most of the year. Emily couldn’t even remember the last time she’d seen him beyond a flash of sober suit in the hallway, or amidst the chaos of a family gathering back in Surrey. He’d certainly never sought her out like this.
Although, she acknowledged as she began to gather up the icing-smeared plates, he wasn’t really seeking her out. He’d just missed the party.
‘I thought it was about time I came home,’ Jason said. He glanced around at the empty tables. ‘It looks like it was a successful party. But then, of course, I wouldn’t expect anything less.’
Successful, Emily thought, rather than fun. So typical of Jason. She arched her eyebrows. ‘Oh, and why is that?’
‘You’re quite the busy little socialite, Em.’
Emily bristled, because the words did not sound complimentary coming out of Jason’s mouth. Just because she enjoyed a party hardly made her some kind of scatty socialite. And the childhood nickname surprised her, even though it shouldn’t. Jason had been the only one to call her that. Little Em, he’d tease, yanking her plaits and giving her a smile that wasn’t quite condescending. More just … knowing. Yet he could hardly say he knew her now; despite working for his company, with his intense travel schedule she’d barely seen him in the five years she’d been at KE. And she couldn’t remember the last time he’d called her Em.
‘I wasn’t aware you kept tabs on my social activities,’ she said, only half-joking.
‘I’m honour bound to, considering our history. And, in any case, you’ve made the social pages enough it would be hard not to notice.’
Emily gave him a playful smile. ‘And you read the social
pages?’
‘I eagerly await them every morning.’
Emily burst out laughing, for the thought of Jason poring over photos of ageing debutantes and profligate playboys was utterly ludicrous, though she’d hardly expect him to joke about it—or joke about anything, really. More than once she’d wondered if he’d had his sense of humour surgically removed.
‘Actually,’ he continued, his tone serious and even severe once more, ‘my PA scans them for me. I need to know what my employees are up to.’
Ah, there he was. The real Jason, the Jason she knew and remembered, always ready to deliver a scolding or shoot her one of those stern looks. Emily gave him a sunny smile. ‘Well, as you can see, this was quite the wild party. Cake and streamers, and I believe someone might have brought out the karaoke machine. Scandalous.’
‘Don’t forget the champagne.’
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