Under the Boss’s Mistletoe

‘We can’t do much about it without Natasha,’ she reminded him reluctantly.

‘Unless…’ Jake trailed off, staring at Cassie as if seeing her properly for the first time.

She stared back, more than a little unnerved. ‘What?’

‘Did you tell this editor Natasha’s name?’

‘No, I didn’t go into details. I just said the owner of the Hall was getting married.’

‘So I don’t really need Natasha-I just need a fiancee?’

‘Well, yes, but-’

‘So why don’t I marry you?’

There was a rushing sound in Cassie’s ears. She went hot, then cold, then hot again. ‘Me?’ she squeaked. ‘You don’t want to marry me!’

‘Of course I don’t,’ said Jake, recoiling. ‘God, no! But you said yourself that it doesn’t have to be a real engagement. If all we need is to have a few photographs taken, why shouldn’t you be the bride-to-be?’

‘Well, because-because-’ Cassie stuttered, groping for all the glaringly obvious reasons why she couldn’t, and bizarrely unable to think of any. ‘Because everyone would know it wasn’t true.’

‘You just said you didn’t give the magazine any names.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of them. I was thinking of all the people who know perfectly well we’re not engaged.’

‘Who’s going to know?’

‘Anyone who sees the article,’ she said, exasperated, but Jake only looked down his nose.

‘I don’t know anyone who’s likely to read Wedding Belles,’ he said.

Cassie glared at him. ‘It’s not just about you, though, is it? I know masses of people who read it for one reason or another, and if one of my friends gets whiff of the fact that I’m apparently engaged without telling anyone I’ll never hear the end of it!’

Jake couldn’t see the problem. ‘The article won’t be published until next year,’ he said dismissively. ‘We can worry about what we tell people then. Rupert will never stick with Natasha for more than a few weeks, so there’ll be no reason not to tell everyone the truth then. We’ll say it was just a marketing exercise.’

‘And what about when the Wedding Belles photographer comes down to take pictures of us supposedly planning our wedding at the Hall?’ asked Cassie, picking up her spoon and fork once more. ‘It’ll be all over Portrevick in no time. You know what the village is like. We’d never be able to keep it secret. Rupert’s got some fancy weekend place in St Ives; what’s the betting he’ll hear about it?’

‘What if he does? It wouldn’t do him any harm to think that I’m not inconsolable.’

‘No, but if he gets wind of the fact that you’re just pretending…’ Cassie trailed off and Jake nodded.

‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘Rupert wouldn’t hesitate to make trouble for me in whatever way he could.’ He looked across the table at Cassie. ‘In that case, let’s make it true,’ he said.

She stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Let’s make it a real engagement,’ he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Or, at least, not a secret one,’ he amended. ‘We can tell everybody who needs to know, and do the photographs for the article quite openly. We’ll know it’s not a real engagement, but we don’t have to tell anyone else that.’

Let’s make it a real engagement. Cassie was furious with herself for the way her heart had jumped at his words, in spite of the fact that only a matter of minutes ago he had been recoiling in horror at the very idea. ‘Nobody would believe it,’ she said flatly.

‘Why not?’

‘Come on, Jake. I’m hardly your type, am I? Are you really going to ask people to believe you took one look at me and fell in love with me? They’d know it wasn’t true.’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Jake studied her over the rim of his glass. It was warm in the restaurant, and she had shrugged off the silky cardigan, leaving her shoulders bare. She was a warm, glowing figure in the candlelight. ‘I can think of more unlikely scenarios,’ he said.

His gaze flustered Cassie, and she tore her eyes away to concentrate fiercely on twisting spaghetti around her fork. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘And when was this supposed to have happened?’

‘How about when you walked into my office and fell into my arms?’

Cassie felt her colour rising at the memory. ‘And you thought, “I’ve been waiting all my life for someone clumsy to come along”?’

‘Perhaps I’ve had a thing about you since I kissed you at the Allantide Ball,’ Jake suggested. ‘Perhaps I’ve been waiting ten years to find you again.’

It was clear that he was being flippant, but there was an undercurrent of Something in his voice. Cassie did everything she could to stop herself looking up to meet his eyes again, but it was hopeless. Something stronger than her was dragging her gaze up from the fork to lock with Jake’s. She could almost hear the click as it snapped into place.

His eyes were dark and unreadable in the candlelight, but still her heart began that silly pattering again, while her pulse throbbed alarmingly.

She swallowed. ‘I don’t think that sounds very likely either.’

‘Well, then, we’ll tell it exactly as it was,’ said Jake, sounding infuriatingly normal. How come his heart wasn’t lurching all over the place at the very thought of falling in love with her? He clearly wasn’t having any trouble breathing, either.

‘We met when you came to discuss developing the Hall as a wedding venue. Then we drove down to Portrevick together.’

‘And on the way we fell madly in love and agreed to get married right away?’ said Cassie, who had managed to look away again at last.

Jake shrugged away her scorn. ‘You’re the one who believes in that kind of thing,’ he reminded her. ‘If we say that’s what happened, why would anyone believe it wasn’t true?’

‘I can’t believe you’re making it all sound so reasonable,’ she protested.

How had they got to this point? It was as if the whole evening had been turned on its head. When she arrived, she had been cock-a-hoop at the idea of the magazine feature, and her only concern had been how to convince Jake to go for it. Now it was Jake talking her into an engagement just to make sure the article went ahead. How had that happened?

‘Look, it makes sense.’ Jake was clearly losing patience. ‘You’re the ideal person to feature in the article. You know all about weddings. You’ll be able to say all the right things and make sure the Hall comes out of it looking beautiful.’

‘That’s true, I suppose.’ Cassie looked at the fork she had laden so carefully with spaghetti and put it down. She had lost her appetite. ‘But what about you?’ she said hesitantly.

‘What about me?’

‘Won’t you find it very difficult?’

‘It might be a bit of a struggle to look interested in table decorations,’ said Jake. ‘But I expect I can manage if it’s just one or two photo sessions. I won’t be required to do much else, will I?’

‘I wasn’t thinking about that,’ said Cassie. ‘I was thinking about what it would be like for you to have to pretend to be happy with me when I know how you must be feeling about Natasha. I’d be devastated if it was me.’

‘At least I won’t look it,’ said Jake, wondering how he did feel.

Angry, humiliated-yes. But devastated? Jake didn’t think so. His overwhelming feeling, he decided, was one of disappointment in Natasha. He had been attracted by her beauty, of course, but just as much he had liked her intelligence and composure. He couldn’t believe that she would lose her head over someone like Rupert, of all people.

Jake remembered telling Cassie how well he and Natasha were matched. Natasha was perfect, he had told her. And she had been. She had never irritated or distracted him the way Cassie did, for instance. She was everything he needed in a woman.

More than that, when he looked at Natasha, Jake had felt as if he had left Portrevick behind him once and for all. With a beautiful, accomplished, sexy, successful woman like Natasha on his arm, he’d been able to believe that he had made it at last.

And then Rupert Branscombe Fox had lifted his little finger and she had gone.

Jake’s jaw tightened and he stared down at the wine he was swirling in his glass. Rupert’s condescension could