Misbehaving Under the Mistletoe. Heidi Rice

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      Cassie shivered as the car accelerated away. Sliding his palms under the opening of her coat, he placed a quick kiss on her forehead below her hairline. He wasn’t risking going anywhere near her lips again until they had some privacy. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

      Taking her hand firmly in his, he strode towards the entrance to the restaurant, impatience in every stride as he listened to the tap of her boot heels against the paving stones.

      Taking a time-out to slow things down had been the smart thing to do, but right now, with a whole hour ahead of him before he could get her naked, he couldn’t help wishing he’d been a lot more stupid.

      Erotic anticipation rippled through Cassie’s system as she stepped out into the lobby of the Tower’s eighth floor. Her skin felt tight and itchy, and her pulse pounded against her throat like a metronome as Jace’s masculine scent teased her nostrils, and his rough palm squeezed hers. Tonight would be an adventure that she intended to enjoy. For once she wasn’t going to worry about tomorrow, she was going to concentrate on now.

       Relax. Enjoy.

      She repeated Nessa’s mantra in her head. Then let out a staggered breath as Jace led her into a panoramic rooftop bar, its sleek lines and streamlined elegance reminding her of a vintage thirties ocean liner. Strobes of blue fluorescent light reflected off the forty-foot bar’s steel panelling and illuminated a crowd dressed in everything from exclusive ball gowns and designer suits to artfully ripped denim. The loud buzz of conversation and the clink of glasses were only partially masked by the backing beat of drums and bass-guitar riffs coming from a live band at the far end of the room. Cassie’s astonished gaze riveted on the wall of glass to her left, which framed a breathtaking view of the Thames’ North Bank and the City of London beyond. The majesty of St Paul’s Cathedral dome spotlit in the frosty twilight broke up the geometric shapes of the City’s glaringly modern financial district.

      Cassie hesitated, her fingers flexing in Jace’s hand. ‘Wow, no wonder this place is so popular.’

      His grip tightened. ‘Yeah,’ he said, not sounding very impressed. ‘Helen always knew how to throw a party.’

      ‘Who’s Helen?’ she asked. But before she got a reply, Jace stiffened beside her. His jaw clenched as a tall woman in floating red silk made her way through the crowd towards them. The woman’s figure was so thin and delicate, her collarbone stood out against the wispy straps of her gown. Either she was a supermodel or she had an eating disorder. Cassie opted for the former as she glided closer, deciding that her striking face, all high cheekbones, almond eyes and collagen-stung lips, could easily have graced the cover of a fashion magazine.

      Dropping Cassie’s hand, Jace placed his palm on her hip to anchor her to his side. And she heard him swear under his breath.

      ‘Hello, lover boy,’ the woman said breathlessly as she drew level, her six-inch heels bringing her almost eye-level with Jace, and making Cassie feel like a midget. ‘Long time, no see.’ A cloud of expensive perfume engulfed Cassie as the woman leaned into him and pressed postbox-red lips to his. Her mouth lingered on his a moment too long for the kiss to be mistaken for platonic. Cassie wondered if she’d just become invisible.

      Jace grasped the women’s waist, deliberately setting her away from him. ‘Where the hell is Bryan?’ he asked, his tone frigid.

      ‘That’s for me to know and for you to find out,’ she said, batting her eyelids as spots of colour appeared on her angular cheekbones.

      ‘I didn’t come all this way to play games, Helen,’ he replied, his voice low with annoyance.

      So this was Helen.

      The woman’s long eyelashes dipped in a bashful gesture that seemed out of keeping with the bold flirtation of a moment before and she gave a breathless little laugh. ‘Don’t be such a spoilsport.’ She touched a perfectly manicured nail to Jace’s chest. ‘I have good news. I have some friends here tonight you must meet. I’ve whetted their appetite already and they’re gagging to hear more about Artisan so they can invest.’

      Catching her finger, Jace lowered it. ‘You of all people know I’m not looking for new investment.’

      She flicked her fingers in a dismissive gesture. ‘Stop being difficult—you’re not going to sell Artisan. I know how much the company means to you. I’m the one who watched you sweat blood over it.’

      ‘It served its purpose,’ he replied flatly. ‘I don’t get sentimental about business, any more than I get sentimental about the past.’

      The chill in his voice sent a shiver of alarm up Cassie’s spine. Who was this woman? And why did the familiarity between them remind her unpleasantly of the time when Lance had laughingly introduced her to his ‘work colleague’ Tracy at their New Year’s Eve party last year?

      She knew she didn’t have any claim on Jace, this was just a casual date with the promise of wild sex for dessert, but that didn’t make the uncomfortable feeling go away. She cleared her throat, loudly, and Helen’s head whipped round.

      The woman stared blankly at her as if she were noticing her for the first time, but made no move to introduce herself. Hostility rolled off her in waves, but there was something else there, a flicker of sadness and distress, that made Cassie wish she could disappear for real.

      ‘Why don’t I go get us a drink?’ Cassie directed the question at Jace. Whatever was between these two, she was pretty sure she’d be better off not knowing what it was.

      ‘We’ll get one together,’ he replied. ‘I’ll catch you later, Helen.’

      But as he took Cassie’s hand and went to sidestep their host she simply stepped the same way, blocking his path. ‘What’s the matter, Jace?’ she said, her raised voice turning several heads by the bar. ‘Does it make you uncomfortable introducing your little tart to your wife?’

      He swore viciously as shock and disbelief made blood pound in Cassie’s ears.

       His wife?

      Seeing the other guests staring at her, Cassie felt the blood pump into her cheeks. Jace said something, his voice low with temper, but she couldn’t make out the words, the buzzing in her ears deafening her. Pulling her hand out of his, she rushed out of the bar and didn’t look back.

      She covered her mouth with her hand as reaction set in.

      Oh, God, she was going to throw up.

      So much for her fabulous adventure, she thought as she stabbed the lift button with frantic fingers. She should have seen it coming. Cassie Fitzgerald decided to have a wild fling and she ended up flinging herself straight into the arms of a married man. It would be ironic, if the guilt and embarrassment and the stupid sense of betrayal tumbling about in the pit of her stomach weren’t making her gag.

      ‘Hold up, Cassie.’ A large hand wrapped around her forearm and whisked her round. ‘Where the hell are you going?’

      ‘Home.’

      ‘Helen’s not my wife,’ he countered. ‘We’ve been divorced for over five years now and separated a great deal longer. And up until about ten seconds ago I thought she’d be here with her new fiancé, so I didn’t anticipate having to deal with this rubbish.’

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