Mr and Mischief Read Online Free PDF

thunderous, and Emily wondered if he was actually angry. Then he glanced at her, smiling, his eyes lightening to the honey colour she’d seen last night, and he said, ‘Trust me, Emily, your clothes do not need livening up. Now, how about a bite to eat and you can tell me all about your first day?’
    Emily blinked in shock. She had been half-expecting Jason to check up on her since it was the first day of her new position,but this? ‘Dinner?’ she repeated rather stupidly, and Jason’s smile widened.
    ‘That is the idea. Usually, around six o’clock, people like to eat and drink. Sustenance, you know, as well as a social habit.’
    Emily’s mouth twitched in a smile. She’d forgotten about Jason’s dry sense of humour. And, despite her surprise at the invitation, she realised she’d like to have dinner with him. She was curious about how he’d changed, and even what this personal business was. And there was something about Jason—something oddly different—that she wanted to understand. Or at least explore. ‘Actually, I’m famished,’ she told him as she reached for her coat. ‘I skipped lunch. So yes, you can treat me to dinner.’
    Jason watched as Emily slid a form-fitting trench coat over her already clinging suit. It didn’t even cover her legs. For a coat, it was remarkably revealing. He felt himself frown, already regretting his impulse invitation. He hadn’t even meant to come down to Emily’s office; he had plans that evening, and he’d meant to walk straight outside to his car. Yet somehow he’d taken this little detour, and once he’d seen Emily hold out one perfectly shaped golden leg, her eyes sparkling with laughter, his resolve had crumbled to dust.
    He’d kept away from her for seven years; she was nearly twenty-five now. She was experienced, if the social pages were anything to go by, and surely a single evening—a little bit of light flirting—wouldn’t harm anyone. It was just, Jason told himself, an itch he needed to scratch. It wouldn’t go anywhere. It couldn’t. He wouldn’t even kiss her.
    Yet already he was reaching for his BlackBerry, and he quickly sent a rather terse text to cancel the rest of his plans for the evening. He clicked the button on his keys to unlock the car, and Emily started in surprise.
    ‘You own a Porsche?’ she said, clearly surprised.
    Jason opened her door, breathing in the strawberry scent of her hair and something else, something warm and feminine that had lust jolting through him yet again.
Just dinner.
‘It appears that I do,’ he said, and she rolled her eyes as she slid into the sumptuous leather interior.
    ‘Quite a nice ride. It’s not what I’d expect at all.’
    ‘Oh?’ Jason slid into the driver’s seat. ‘I didn’t know you had expectations about my mode of transport.’
    ‘Yes, but that’s it exactly, isn’t it?’ Emily said with a laugh. She shook her hair back over her shoulders in a golden waterfall. ‘Your “mode of transport". I’d expect something basic and, well, boring for you, just a car to get you from point A to point B. Of course,’ she teased, ‘the colour is a bit dull. Navy-blue doesn’t do it for me, I’m afraid.’
    Jason stared at her for a second, utterly nonplussed by her rather brutal assessment of him.
Boring?
And he’d been thinking she still had a little crush on him. Well, that was him sorted. ‘Boring,’ he repeated musingly as he started the car. ‘And dull. I wonder if I should be offended.’
    ‘You can hardly be offended by that, Jason!’
    Now he really
was
offended. Most women didn’t think he was boring at all. Most women were eager to spend an evening with him. Yet here Emily sat sprawled in the seat across from him, her skirt riding up on her slim thighs, looking at him as if he were her doddering old uncle whom she had to humour.
    Yet she hadn’t looked at him like that last night. He still remembered the brief, enticing touch of her hand on his chest. She’d been