Read Online Under the Boss's Mistletoe by Jessica Hart - Free Book Online Page A

start with the great hall and see how much work needs to be done there,’ she went on, encouraged. ‘That’s the obvious place for wedding ceremonies.’
    ‘Fine by me,’ said Jake, handing her a mug. ‘Let’s take our coffee with us.’
    The great hall had been the heart of the medieval house, but its stone walls had been panelled in the seventeenth century, and a grand wooden-staircase now swept down from a gallery on the first floor. At one end, a vast fireplace dominated an entire wall, and there was a dais at the other.
    ‘Perfect for the high table,’ said Cassie, pointing at it with her mug. Netbook under one arm, coffee clutched in her other hand, she turned slowly, imagining the space filled with people. ‘They’ll love this,’ she enthused. ‘I can see it being really popular for winter weddings.
    ‘I always dreamed about having a Christmas wedding here,’ she confided to Jake, who was also looking around, but with a lot less enthusiasm. ‘There was going to be a fire burning, an enormous Christmas tree with lights, candles everywhere…Outside it would be cold and dark, but in here it would be warm and cosy.’
    Funny how she could remember that fantasy so vividly after all this time. In her dream, Cassie was up there on the dais, looking beautiful and elegant—naturally—with Rupert, who gazed tenderly down at her. Her family were gathered round, bursting with pride in her, and Sir Ian was there, too, beaming with delight.
    Cassie sighed.
    ‘Anyway, I think it could look wonderful, don’t you?’
    Jake’s mouth turned down as he studied the hall. ‘Not really. It looks pretty dingy and gloomy to me.’
    ‘That’s because it’s been empty for a while, and it needs a good clean. You’ve got to use your imagination,’ said Cassie. Perching on an immense wooden trestle-table, she laid the Netbook down and sipped at her own coffee. It was cool in the hall, and she was glad of the warmth.
    ‘It wouldn’t be so different from the Allantide Ball,’ she said. ‘Remember how Sir Ian used to decorate it with candles and apples and it looked really inviting?’
    Then she wished that she hadn’t mentioned the Allantide Ball. In spite of herself, her eyes flickered to where Jake had been standing that night. She had been over by the stairs when she had spotted him. She could retrace her route across the floor, aware of the dark-blue eyes watching her approach, and a sharp little frisson shivered down her spine just as it had ten years ago.
    And over there was the door leading out to the terrace…Cassie remembered the mixture of panic and excitement as Jake had taken her hand and led her out into the dark. She could still feel his hard hands on her, still feel her heart jerking frantically, and her blood still pounded at the devastating sureness of his lips.
    Swallowing, she risked a glance at Jake and found her gaze snared on his. He was watching her with a faint, mocking smile, and although nothing was said she knew—she just knew —that he was remembering that kiss, too. The very air seemed to be jangling with the memory of that wretched ball, and Cassie wrenched her eyes away. What on earth had possessed her to mention it?
    She sipped her coffee, trying desperately to think of something to say to break the awkward silence, and show Jake that she hadn’t forgotten that she was here to do a job.
    ‘What would you think about holding an Allantide Ball this year?’ she said, starting slowly but gathering pace as sherealised that the idea, born of desperation, might not be such a bad one after all. ‘As a kind of memorial to Sir Ian? It would be good publicity.’
    ‘No one would come,’ said Jake. ‘I’m not exactly popular in Portrevick. I went into the pub the last time I came down and there was dead silence when I walked in. I felt about as welcome as a cup of cold sick.’
    Cassie had gathered something of that from Tina. Apparently there was much speculation in the village about Sir