Read Online The Matchmaker Bride by Kate Hewitt - Free Book Online Page B

gaze resting on her with that quiet sense of assurance that still, after all these years, had the power to unnerve her.
    ‘I’m sure she will, if you have anything to do with it,’ he said, and Emily wondered if she was the only one whoheard the faintest thread of mocking laughter in his voice. He turned back to Helen, smiling again as he wished her well, and then went to head towards his executive office. After saying her own goodbyes to both receptionists, Emily fell into step with Jason, matching his long stride, and he slid her a sideways glance. ‘You seem to be taking quite an interest in Miss Smith.’
    ‘I take an interest in all the people I hire,’ Emily replied briskly. ‘It’s my job.’
    ‘Of course,’ Jason agreed. ‘And an admirable dedication to your job is the only reason, I suppose?’
    He was laughing at her, she knew, but somehow she didn’t really mind. She’d reached the door of her office, and she turned to face him, surprised and a bit breathless by how close he stood to her. She could smell the citrusy scent of his aftershave again, and underlying it was a fainter, muskier scent that she knew had to be just Jason and the thought made her stomach flip over in a way she was starting to get used to, it had been happening so often in the few days since Jason had returned. Despite its now familiarity, it still felt strange, unnerving, because this was Jason and save the thirty humiliating seconds when she’d asked him to kiss her, she’d never reacted this way to him before. She could only imagine how horrified he would be if he knew. ‘Of course,’ she said innocently. ‘What else would it be?’
    ‘As long as you aren’t planning to meddle,’ he said. Although he kept his tone light, Emily heard the warning in his words.
    ‘Meddle or matchmake?’
    ‘They’re one and the same.’
    ‘Only in your opinion.’ She placed a hand on his chest, her palm flattening against the crisp fabric of his shirt, her fingers instinctively seeking the heat of him underneath the cloth. She felt his heart thudding steadily under her palm. She’d meant it to be a light, even impersonal touch, no more than a playfulpoke in the sternum, yet as if driven by a deeper, baser need, she found it couldn’t be that; her hand acted of its own accord, fingers stretching, seeking, while every thought flew from her head.
    ‘You don’t need to worry about Helen—or me,’ she finally said, fishing for the words that seemed to have pooled deep in her consciousness. She looked up to meet his gaze, saw the gold flecks in his eyes. They weren’t brown at all. They weren’t boring either. She swallowed. ‘You don’t need to keep an eye on me, Jason. I’m all grown up now.’
    ‘As I’m coming to realise,’ Jason said, his voice so low Emily felt it vibrate through her. His chest tensed under her hand. They remained silent, unmoving, and Emily felt as if everything had slowed down, distilled into this one moment, which was crazy because it wasn’t a moment at all. They were just talking. And she was touching his chest.
    ‘Well.’ She cleared her throat and somehow managed to remove her hand from his chest; it flopped to her side like a dead thing, useless, awkward, and she suddenly didn’t know what to do with it. She was acting ridiculously, Emily thought. Almost as bad as when she’d asked him—
    Her mind skittered away from that memory. Seven years ago. Old hat, ancient history. Yet it felt close now—far too close—so even now she was half-inclined to tilt her head up and— ‘I should get to work,’ she said, a little too loudly, and she made her mouth curve into something close to a smile as she turned from him and opened her office door.
    Jason watched her go, not moving. It wasn’t until she was at her desk that Emily heard him walk down the hall, his steps quick and assured as always, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
    She collapsed into her chair. What was wrong with her? Why was