Mr and Mischief by Kate Hewitt Read Free Book Online Page B

even exist.’ Or being hurt when it couldn’t be found or didn’t work out. She thought of her father’s two decades of mourning. No, love wasn’t overrated. But the aftermath might be underestimated.
    Jason sat back, seemingly satisfied. ‘Wise words. I quite agree.’
    ‘So no love or marriage for you?’ Emily said, meaning to tease, yet the question came out a little too serious.
    ‘I didn’t say that,’ Jason said, and his dark gaze settled on Emily with a frown. ‘I’ll have to marry some time. I need an heir for Weldon, after all.’
    Now
that
sounded positively medieval. She could see Jason arranging some awful marriage with a sour-faced socialite just because she was of good breeding stock. She shuddered. ‘How practical of you,’ she told him. ‘I hope I’m not on your list of candidates.’
    Jason’s expression darkened, his brows snapping togetherrather ferociously. ‘Never fear, Em. You most certainly are not in the running.’
    Well, he didn’t have to sound
quite
so certain, Emily thought, feeling rather miffed by his hasty assurance. Of course they’d make a terrible couple—they were far too different—but did he really have to look as if the thought of marrying her was utterly repellent?
    ‘Well, that’s a relief, then,’ she said lightly. ‘So what kind of woman are you looking for?’
    ‘Someone who shares my view on love and marriage.’
    ‘Someone sensible, then.’
    ‘Exactly.’
    Emily made a face. It all sounded really rather horrible. ‘Not one of the starlets or models you’ve usually had on your arm?’ she said, trying to tease even though she still felt a bit miffed, and perhaps even hurt.
    Jason frowned. ‘Those were just dates,’ he said. ‘Not wife material.’
    Emily shuddered theatrically. He sounded as if he were talking about a lump of clay, moulded to the shape he preferred. ‘Well, good luck with that,’ she said, her voice sharpening despite her intention to still sound so insouciant.
    Jason inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘Thank you.’
    Emily smiled back, but inside she found she really didn’t like thinking about Jason and his sensible bride-to-be—whoever she was—at all.

CHAPTER THREE
    T HE rest of the meal passed pleasantly, and Emily was relieved to have the conversation move on to more innocuous matters. The chicken, although unadventurous, was delicious, and Emily found she enjoyed chatting with Jason about things as seemingly insignificant as the weather or the latest film. She’d forgotten what a dry sense of humour he had, so sometimes it took her a few seconds even to realise he was joking.
    ‘Will you miss travelling?’ she asked as the waiter cleared their plates. ‘Since you’re planning to be in London for a time.’
    ‘I’ll have other things to occupy me,’ Jason replied easily.
    Emily pursed her lips. ‘This personal business.’
    ‘You’re quite curious about that.’
    ‘Only because I can’t imagine what it is. You’ve always been such an open book, Jason. No secrets. No surprises.’
    Jason drummed his fingers on the table. He had rather nice fingers, Emily thought distractedly. Long and tapered. She’d been noticing them all evening. ‘Boring again.’
    ‘I really did insult you with that!’ She laughed as Jason pulled a face.
    ‘I never realised you thought me so stodgy,’ he replied as he poured her another glass of wine.
    ‘I shouldn’t drink that,’ she protested. ‘I’m already feeling a bit tipsy.’ Tipsy enough to have admitted it, as well.
    Jason’s lips curved in a knowing smile. ‘And I recall that you say some quite interesting things when you’ve had a glass or two too many.’
    Emily felt herself flush, for she knew just what Jason was referring to.
You’re quite handsome, you know. Perhaps you’d like to kiss me.
Yet again he’d referenced that evening, that single dance when, buoyed by champagne and her own youthful naivety, she’d offered herself to him. Why did he