Under the Boss’s Mistletoe

way down the motorway, barely drawing breath for seven whole hours. She had an extraordinarily vivid imagination and was, Jake had to admit, very funny at times. But she was much too distracting. He had been exasperated by the way she kept tugging at the edge of his vision when he should have been concentrating on the road.

Now he was changing his mind again. Perhaps Cassie wasn’t as coolly professional as the people he normally did business with, but she seemed to know what she was talking about. Her speech was refreshingly free of business jargon, and she had a warmth and an enthusiasm that might in the end get the job done faster than one of his marketing team, however sound their grasp of financial imperatives or strategic analysis.

She was leaning on the terrace wall, looking out over garden, her hands resting on the crumbling coping- stones. In profile, her lashes were long and tilting, the edge of her mouth a dreamy curve. The sunlight glinted on her brown curls-except that brown was too dull a word for her hair, Jake realised. Funny how he had never noticed what a beautiful colour it was before, a shade somewhere between auburn and chestnut with hints of honey and gold.

Unaware of his gaze, Cassie was following her own train of thought. ‘I’ve just had a great idea!’ she said, turning to him, and Jake looked quickly away. ‘I’ve got contacts with a couple of wedding magazines. Maybe I could get them to do a story about how we’re turning the Hall into the ultimate wedding venue? It would be fantastic promotion and get people talking about it. We could even start taking some advance bookings…What do you think?’

‘I think I’m going to leave it all up to you,’ said Jake slowly.

‘Really?’ The big brown eyes lit with excitement.

‘Yes,’ he said, making up his mind. He doubted that he would find anyone else as committed to the project, even if he had the time to find them. ‘We can agree the fees when we get back to London, but in the meantime I’d like you to go ahead, make whatever decisions you need and get work started as soon as possible.’

‘Er…it’s me.’ Cassie made a face at the phone. Excellent, Cassie. Stuttering and stumbling was always a good way to impress an important client with your professionalism. ‘Cassie…Cassandra Grey,’ she added, just in case Jake knew anyone else who went to pieces at the sound of his voice.

‘Yes, so my PA said when she put you through,’ said Jake with an edge of impatience.

‘Oh yes, I suppose she did. Um, well, I just thought I’d let you know how things are going at the Hall.’

‘Yes?’

His voice was clipped, and Cassie bit her lip, furious with herself for irritating him before she had even started. Why was she being so moronic? Everything was working out just as she’d planned, and she had been feeling really pleased with herself. Ringing Jake with an update hadn’t seemed like a big deal when she had picked up the phone two minutes ago, but the minute he had barked his name her insides had jerked themselves into a knot of nerves.

He sounded so distant that she was tempted to put the phone down, but that would be even sillier. Besides, she needed his OK on a number of matters.

‘We’ve been making progress,’ she told him brightly.

‘Yes?’ he said again, and her heart sank. She had hoped they had reached a kind of understanding at the Hall. Jake had certainly seemed more approachable then, but he was obviously in a vile mood now-which didn’t bode well for the idea she wanted to put to him.

She cleared her throat. ‘There are one or two things I need to talk to you about,’ she said. ‘Are you free for lunch at all this week?’

‘Is it important?’

What did he think-that she wanted to take him out for the pleasure of his company? Wisely, Cassie held her tongue.

‘It is, rather.’

There was an exasperated sigh at the other end of the phone, and she imagined him checking his electronic organiser. ‘Does it have to be this week?’

Clearly, he couldn’t wait to see her again. ‘The sooner the better, really,’ said Cassie.

More tsking. ‘Lunch might be tricky,’ he said after a moment. ‘Could we make it dinner instead?’

Oh, great. And there she had been feeling nervous at the prospect of an hour’s lunch. ‘Er, yes. Of course.’

‘What about tomorrow?’

‘Fine. I’ll book a table,’ said Cassie quickly, just so he knew that it was a business dinner and that she would be picking up the tab. Not that there was any question of a date. She hesitated. ‘As it’s dinner, would Natasha like to join us?’ she asked delicately.

There was a pause. ‘Not tomorrow,’ said Jake curtly.

‘Oh, that’s a pity,’ said Cassie, although actually she was rather glad. She didn’t fancy spending a whole evening being compared to the perfect Natasha, and besides she couldn’t help feeling that her idea would be better put to Jake alone in the first instance.

They arranged to meet at Giovanni’s, an Italian restaurant just round the corner from Avalon’s office, where she and Joss were regulars. There was no way Cassie’s expense account could rise to the kind of restaurants Jake was no doubt accustomed to, but the food at Giovanni’s was good and the ambience cheerful, and in the end Cassie decided that it was better to stick to the unpretentious.

It was only when she arrived the following evening that she began to wonder if it had been such a good idea. Giovanni treated her and Joss like daughters, and the brides-to-be they took there were invariably delighted by him, but Cassie had a feeling Jake would be less charmed.

Still, it was too late to change now. Cassie hurried along the street, her heels clicking on the pavement. Anxious not to make it look as if she were expecting some kind of date, but wanting to make an effort for their now most-important client, she had dithered too long about what to wear. Eventually she had decided on a sleeveless dress with a little cardigan and her favourite suede boots, but they had proved to be a mistake, too. Fabulous as they were, it was hard to walk very fast in them.

Jake, of course, hadn’t even had the decency to be a few minutes late and was waiting for her outside Giovanni’s, looking dark, lean and remote. His suit was immaculately tailored, his expression shuttered. Oh God, now he was cross with her for not being on time.

Cassie’s heart sank further. It didn’t look as if the evening was getting off to a good start.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said breathlessly as she clicked up on her heels. ‘I hope you haven’t been waiting long?’

‘A couple of minutes, that’s all. I was early.’

The dark gaze rested on her face and Cassie saw herself in his eyes, red-faced and puffing, her hair all anyhow. So much for cool professionalism. She had been so proud of herself recently, too, and had vowed that it would be the start of a whole new image.

‘Well, let’s go in.’ Flustered, she reached for the door, intending to stand back and usher Jake through, but Jake was too quick for her. He reached an arm behind her and held the door, leaving Cassie no option but to go ahead of him. It was that or an unseemly tussle, but as it was she was left looking like the little woman rather than the cool, capable businesswoman she wanted to be.

No, not a good start.

Giovanni spied her across the restaurant and came sailing over to greet her, his arms outstretched.

‘Cassie! Bella!’ His kissed her soundly on both cheeks before holding her away from him. ‘You’re looking too thin,’ he scolded her, the way he always did, before turning his beady gaze on Jake. ‘And who is this?’ he asked interestedly. ‘It’s about time you brought a man here!’

‘Mr Trevelyan is a client, Giovanni,’ said Cassie hastily.

‘Shame!’ he whispered to her, plucking a couple of menus from the bar. ‘He looks your type, I think.’

Cassie opened her mouth to protest that Jake was most certainly not her type, but realised just in time that she could hardly embark on an argument with Jake right there. She would just have to hope that he hadn’t heard. He hadn’t recoiled in horror, anyway. In fact, he didn’t seem to be paying them much attention at all, which was a little irritating in one way, but a big relief in another.

So she contented herself with crossing her eyes and giving Giovanni a warning glare, which he ignored completely as he gestured them towards a table tucked away in a little alcove where a candle flickered invitingly. It looked warm and intimate, and perfect for lovers.

‘My best table for you,’ he said, handing them the menus with a flourish. ‘Nice and quiet so you can talk to your