Free Mr and Mischief by Kate Hewitt

her chair. What was
wrong
with her? Why was she acting so strangely around Jason—Jason, who had always been so predictable, so safe, so
ordinary?
    Even as she asked herself the question, Emily knew theanswer. She was acting so oddly around Jason—feeling so odd—because no matter how she tried to convince herself otherwise, some vestige of girlish longing from that dance long ago remained inside of her, needing only to see Jason properly again to unfurl and blossom once more.
    Some part of her still wanted Jason. Wanted him to kiss her, even. Wanted him the way a woman wanted a man, if only to prove to the girl she’d once been that she was desirable. Desired … by Jason.
    Which was ridiculous, because the last person she should be thinking of that way was Jason Kingsley. He’d surely be appalled if he knew the nature of her thoughts.
She
was appalled, because of all people to be even the littlest bit attracted to—well, Jason Kingsley was low down on her list. Sometimes she wondered if he even liked her all, beyond the most basic affection. He’d certainly always been quick to point out her faults. And as for his faults … well, boring was the least of them. Stodgy and stern and
horribly
practical.
    She had no business feeling oddly about him at all. So she wouldn’t. It was, Emily decided, a simple matter of mind over body. Whatever latent, leftover feeling she might have secretly nurtured for Jason would be stamped out by self-control right now.
    She had more important things to do, better things to think about—
    ‘Emily?’
    Emily jerked her head up from where she’d been blindly gazing at a mindless doodle on a spare bit of stationery. It looked suspiciously like a J. She crossed it out viciously and then smiled at the woman who stood in her doorway, her skirt six inches shorter than Emily’s, her nails curved talons, ruthlessly manicured. Gillian Bateson, the Head of Public Relations.
    ‘Gillian, hello. Good to see you. Can I help with something?’
    ‘I don’t suppose Stephanie told you about the charity fund-raiser?’ Gillian said in that rather lofty tone that Emily had never liked.
    ‘I’m afraid not,’ she replied equably enough. She knew the basics: every year Jason hosted an exclusive fund-raiser for a water-based charity, usually in one of London’s best hotels. It was an intimate, expensive event that Gillian organised, apparently with help from HR.
    ‘It’s a very big do,’ Gillian said, seating herself down across from Emily. ‘Last year we raised three million pounds for wells in the Sudan.’
    ‘That must have made for a lot of wells,’ Emily said politely. She just managed to keep the mischief from her voice. Gillian had always been rather full of her own importance.
    ‘It’s a
very
important event,’ Gillian confirmed, rolling her eyes dramatically. ‘Of course, I’m in charge of it since it’s essentially PR, but Stephanie always wanted to know what was going on—I suppose I’ll have to fill you in, as well?’ She made it sound as if that would be a terribly tiresome thing to do, and Emily smiled in understanding.
    ‘If you’d be so kind, Gillian.’ She had to remind herself that Gillian had been divorced three times and had lost custody of her only daughter. All the nail varnish and hairspray surely hid a deep heartache. Or so she tried to believe.
    ‘Well …’ Yet another eye roll. If she kept at it, Emily thought wryly, she’d have her eyes permanently aimed at the back of her head. ‘We’re raising money for a desalination plant in Namibia. The fund-raiser is meant to have a black and white theme, and since Jason’s flat is decorated in black and white we’re going to have it there—’
    ‘The fund-raiser is at Jason’s flat?’ Emily could not keep the surprise from her voice as she digested this information, unsure how she felt about it. Or Gillian calling him by his first name in that intimate way.
    Gillian arched her ruthlessly plucked eyebrows,