nice, isn’t he?’ she said, and from the corner of her eye she saw Helen blush and felt another little stab of satisfaction.
Take that, Jason Kingsley, she thought and, smiling, reached for another glass of champagne. She glanced around the ballroom, instinctively seeking out that tall, purposeful figure but she could tell from the emptiness she felt inside that Jason had already gone.
Emily kept her thoughts from Jason—and that kiss—for the rest of the evening. She was on full form, sparkling and chatting and posing for photographs until well after midnight, when common sense finally told her she—as well as Helen—had to return to work tomorrow, so they might as well call it a night.
Yet, alone in her flat, the rooms all dark around her, she found the memory of Jason’s kiss came rushing back to her, overwhelming her senses and making her ache deep inside in a way she didn’t like but recognised as the onslaught of unfulfilled desire.
Why had Jason kissed her? Why had it stirred up this longing and need inside of her, when surely it couldn’t be sated? She couldn’t. Not by Jason, for that kiss—that little kiss—had been nothing more than a proof, a punishment for pushing Helen and Philip together.
The more Emily considered it, the more she felt, like a leaden lump in the pit of her stomach, that she was right. Jason had not kissed her out of desire or attraction or anything like that. He’d kissed her to prove something to her, simply because he could. The thought sent a blush firing Emily’s body and scorching her face, even in the empty darkness of her own flat. She was reminded, painfully, of Jason’s rejection on the dance floor seven years ago. She’d so desperately wanted to prove to him—and herself—how beyond that moment she was, how grown-up and sophisticated and worldly she’d become, but she’d done the opposite. Now, with the aftermath of that kiss sending a riot of ricocheting emotions through her, Emily realised she wasn’t sophisticated at all. at least not when it came to Jason. With Jason she would forever be an adoring, annoying little girl, and she’d never felt so more than now.
Jason stared at the social pages of the newspaper that his PA had laid out with other relevant articles. Tumbled, golden curls, a tiny silver scrap of a dress. Three separate photographs, each one more damning than the last. He scanned the captions: Emily Wood dazzles the fund-raising scene in an exclusively designed dress … Emily Wood and unidentified guest toast their evening … Emily Wood and Philip Ellsworth dance together at last night’s charity gala.
With a grimace of disgust, Jason pushed the pages away. He didn’t need to see any more photographs. He’d already been convinced that as charming as Emily was, as desirable as he knew her to be, she could also be silly, scatty and most unsuitable. He had no business expressing any interest in her at all. No business kissing her.
She was not wife material. Not even close.
So why couldn’t he get her out of his mind? Why couldn’t he forget that kiss?
Why did he want more?
He’d returned to London for the express purpose of finding a wife. With his father’s health failing, it had become all the more urgent. He had no time to waste with Emily Wood, and yet he was honest enough to realise he had trouble resisting her. His self-control had deserted him, his willpower at an alltime low. How he’d managed to keep his distance from Emily for seven years he had no idea, since he certainly couldn’t seem to manage it any longer.
With another grimace Jason pressed the intercom for his PA. ‘Book my ticket for Nairobi, Eloise,’ he said. ‘I’m going back to Africa after all.’
By the next morning, Emily had pushed the kiss and all its accompanying realisations completely out of her mind. Almost.
He still lingered on the fringes of her consciousness like a mist, and she found herself gazing blankly at her computer while her hand went inadvertently to touch her lips, remembering the touch of his mouth against hers, how firmly his lips had moved over hers, that thrilling touch of his tongue and the very taste of him—
Stop. She had to stop. Yet, despite her determination not to, she spent the entire morning in a state of high tension, waiting to see Jason, preparing herself for the pointed barbs he would no doubt direct her way. Yet he did not stop by her office and despite her half-dozen forays to the lobby—to check on Helen, of course—she did not see him enter the building. At lunch his PA informed her that Jason was out of the office for a few days, preparing for another trip to Africa.
‘I thought he was back for a while,’ Emily said, hating that she actually sounded disappointed. ‘A few months, at least.’
The PA, Eloise, shrugged. ‘An emergency came up.’
Emily stopped by Helen’s desk on the way back upstairs. ‘Richard’s going off to Africa again?’ she said, and Helen nodded, her expression downcast.
‘Yes, it’s very important, he said. Just a week, though, this time.’
‘Well, that’s good, then,’ Emily said after a moment. ‘Did you have fun last night?’
‘Yes—’ Helen smiled rather shyly, and Emily smiled back in encouragement, sensing the younger woman wanted to say something more. ‘Philip is very nice,’ she finally admitted in a whisper, and Emily felt a thrill of triumph—as well as trepidation. Suddenly she was glad Jason wasn’t in the office today.
‘He is,’ she said after a second’s pause. ‘Perhaps you’ll see him again.’
‘Do you think?’ Helen’s face lit up even as she chewed her lip nervously. Emily felt another flicker of trepidation. Philip really was charming, she told herself. Yes, he moved in a fast crowd, but he was always unfailingly polite—if a little smooth—and she’d never heard anything that bad about him. Helen, with her sweetness and innocence, could be perfect for him. Surely there was nothing wrong with enabling them to spend a little time together.
With another smile directed at Helen, she headed back up to her office. Work took up too much of her time to think about Jason, or anyone else for that matter. When the phone rang at the end of the day, she was surprised to hear Philip’s plummy tone.
‘Philip! You’ve never rung me at work before.’
‘There’s a first time for everything.’
Emily leaned back in her chair, anticipation racing through her. Philip had never rung her before at all, and there could only be one reason—one person—why he would do so now. ‘So what’s the occasion?’ she asked.
‘No occasion. I have spare theatre tickets and, after seeing you and your lovely companion last night, I thought you might want to go with me.’
‘The theatre? I’m sure that would be lovely.’ Of course he didn’t know Helen well enough to ask her alone, Emily thought, her excitement mounting. She was the perfect cover. He really was interested in Helen. After making arrangements with Philip, she disconnected the call and hurried downstairs to tell Helen the news.
Several hours later they were having drinks in the theatre bar, waiting for the curtain. Philip was charming as always, and had even kissed Helen’s cheek when he’d seen her. Emily stepped away so she was on the other side of the little table, and Philip and Helen sat next to each other on tall stools. Philip, Emily decided firmly, would be just the right man for Helen. He’d wine her and dine her and sweep her off her feet, just as she deserved. And Emily could show Jason how wrong he was. Now that thought was immensely satisfying. All it would take was a little nudge in the right direction.
For a moment Emily felt a ripple of concern for the hapless and absent Richard. She really didn’t have anything against him, did she? No, of course not. If Richard wanted to be with Helen, he could certainly make a bit more effort. Perhaps Philip’s attention towards Helen would motivate him. Or. She glanced at the pair across from her; Philip was tucking a tendril of hair behind Helen’s ear while she ducked her head and blushed. Or Philip and Helen could fall in love and live happily ever after, the way it was supposed to happen. The way her parents had, until her mother had died.