Under the Boss's Mistletoe

Cassie rather suspected that last comment was sarcastic; she had always been hopelessly clumsy.

She sighed. ‘I was rather hoping you wouldn’t recognise me,’ she confessed.

Jake looked across the table at her. She was perched on the edge of the sofa, looking hot and ruffled, her round, sweet face flushed, and brown eyes bright with mortification.

The wild curls he remembered had been cut into a more manageable style, and she had slimmed down and smartened up. Remarkably so, in fact. When he had looked up to see her in the doorway, she had seemed a vividly pretty stranger, and he had felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Then she had tripped and pitched into his arms, and Jake wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved to find out that she hadn’t changed that much after all.

The feel of her was startlingly familiar, which was odd, given that he had only held her twice before. But he had caught her, and all at once it was as if he had been back at that last Allantide Ball. He could still see Cassie as she sashayed up to him in that tight red dress, teetering on heels almost as ridiculous as the ones she was wearing now, and suddenly all grown-up. That was the first time he had noticed her lush mouth, and wondered about the woman she would become.

That mouth was still the same, Jake thought, remembering its warmth, its innocence, remembering how unprepared he had been for the piercing sweetness that just for a moment had held them in its grip.

Now here she was again, sitting there and watching him with a wary expression in the big brown eyes. Not recognise her?

Jake smiled. ‘Not a chance,’ he said.

Oh dear. That wasn’t what she had wanted to hear at all. Almost reluctantly, Cassie met the darkblue gaze and felt her skin prickle at the amusement she read there. It was obvious that Jake remembered the gawky teenager she had been all too well. Those kisses might have been shattering for her, but for him they must have been just part of her gaucheness and lack of sophistication.

She lifted her chin. ‘It’s a long time ago,’ she said. ‘I didn’t think you’d remember me.’

Jake met her eyes blandly. ‘You’d be surprised what I remember,’ he said, and the memory of the Allantide Ball was suddenly shimmering between them. He didn’t have to say anything. Cassie just knew that he was remembering her hopeless attempts to flirt, and her clumsy, mortifyingly eager response to his kiss, and a tide of heat seemed to sweep up from her toes.

She jerked her eyes away. ‘So,’ she began, but all at once her voice was so high and thin that she had to clear her throat and start again. ‘So…’ Oh God, now she sounded positively gravelly! ‘What took you back to Portrevick?’ She managed to find something approaching a normal pitch at last. As far as she knew, Jake had left the village that awful day he had kissed her on his motorbike and had never been back.

Jake’s expression sobered. ‘Sir Ian’s death,’ he said.

‘Oh yes, I was so sorry when I heard about that,’ said Cassie, latching on to what she hoped would be a safe subject. ‘He was such a lovely man,’ she remembered sadly. ‘Mum and Dad went back for the funeral, but one of our clients was getting married that day so I was on duty.’

The door opened at that point and Jake’s PA came in with a tray of coffee which she set on the table between them. She poured two cups and made a discreet exit. Why could she never be that quiet and efficient? Cassie wondered, admiring the other woman’s style.

Jake passed one of the cups to her, and she accepted it gingerly. It was made of the finest porcelain, and she couldn’t help comparing it to the chipped mugs she and Joss used to drink endless cups of tea in the office.

‘I had to go and see Sir Ian’s solicitor on Friday,’ Jake said, pushing the milk jug towards her. ‘I stayed in the pub at Portrevick, and your name was mentioned in connection with weddings. One of your old friends—Tina?—said that you were in the business.’

‘Did she?’ Cassie made a mental note to ring Tina the moment she left and demand to know why she hadn’t told her that Jake Trevelyan had reappeared. It wasn’t as if Tina didn’t know all about that devastating kiss at the Allantide Ball, although Cassie had never told anyone about the second one.

Jake raised his eyes a little at her tone, and she hastened to make amends. Perhaps she had sounded rather vengeful, there. ‘I mean, yes, that’s right,’ she said, helping herself to milk but managing to slop most of it into the saucer.

Now the cup was going to drip all over everything. With an inward sigh, Cassie hunted around in her bag for a tissue to mop up the mess. ‘I am.’

That sounded a bit too bald, didn’t it? You’re supposed to be selling yourself here, Cassie reminded herself, but she was distracted by the need to dispose of the sodden tissue now. She couldn’t just leave it in the saucer. It looked disgusting, and so unprofessional.

‘In the wedding business, that is,’ she added, losing track of where she had begun. Helplessly, she looked around for a bin, but of course there was nothing so prosaic in Jake’s office.

It was immaculate, she noticed for the first time. Everything was squeaky clean, and the desk was clear except for a telephone and a very small, very expensive-looking computer. Ten years ago, Jake would only have been in an office like this to pinch the electronic equipment, she thought, wondering how on earth the rebel Jake, with his battered leathers and his bike, had made it to this exclusive, perfectly controlled space.

She could see Jake eyeing the tissue askance. Obviously any kind of mess offended him now, which was a shame, given that she was banking her entire future on being able to work closely with him and his fiancée for the next few months. Cassie belonged to the creative school of organising, the one that miraculously produced order out of chaos at the very last minute, although no one, least of all her, ever knew quite how it happened.

Unable to think of anything else do with it, Cassie quickly shoved the tissue back into her bag, where it would no doubt fester with all the other crumbs, chocolate wrappers, pen lids and blunt emery-boards that she never got round to clearing out. She would have to remember to be careful next time she put her hand in there.

Jake’s expression was faintly disgusted, but he offered her the plate of biscuits. Cassie eyed them longingly. She was starving, but she knew better than to take one. The next thing, there would be biscuit crumbs everywhere, and her professional image had taken enough of a battering as it was this afternoon.

‘No thank you,’ she said politely, deciding to skip the coffee as well. At this rate she would just spill it all over herself and, worse, Jake’s pristine leather sofa.

Leaning forward, Jake added milk to his own coffee without spilling so much as a drop. He stirred it briskly, tapped the spoon on the side of the cup, set it in the saucer and looked up at Cassie. The dark-blue eyes were very direct, and in spite of her determination to stay cool Cassie’s pulse gave an alarming jolt.

‘Well, shall we get down to business?’ he suggested.

‘Good idea.’ Delighted to leave the past and all its embarrassing associations behind, Cassie leapt into action.

This was it. Her whole career—well, her job, Cassie amended to herself. She didn’t have a career so much as a haphazard series of unrelated jobs. Anyway, everything depended on how she sold herself now.

Reaching for her briefcase, she unzipped it with a flourish, dug out a brochure and handed it to Jake. ‘This will give you some idea of what we do,’ she said in her best professional voice. It was odd that his fiancée wasn’t here. Joss always aimed her pitch at the bride-to-be; she would just have to make the best of it, Cassie supposed.

‘Of course, we offer a bespoke service, so we really start with what you want.’ She hesitated. ‘We usually discuss what you’d like with both members of the couple,’ she added delicately. ‘Will your fiancée be joining us?’

Jake had been flicking through the brochure, but at that he glanced up. ‘Fiancée?’

‘The bride generally has a good idea about what kind of wedding she wants,’ Cassie explained. ‘In our experience, grooms tend to be less concerned with the nitty-gritty of the organisation.’

‘I think there may be some misunderstanding,’ said Jake, frowning. ‘I’m not engaged.’

Cassie’s face fell ludicrously. ‘Not…? You’re not getting married?’ she said, hoping against hope that she had misheard.

‘No.’

Then how was she to hold on to her job? Cassie wondered wildly. ‘So you don’t need help planning a wedding?’ she asked, just to make sure, and Jake let the brochure drop onto the table with a slap of finality.

‘No.’

‘But…’ Cassie was struggling to understand how it could all have gone so wrong before she had even started. ‘Why did you get in touch?’

‘When Tina told me that you were in the wedding business I was under the impression that you managed a venue. I hadn’t appreciated that you were involved with planning the weddings themselves.’

‘Well, we deal with venues, of course,’ said Cassie, desperate to hold on to something. ‘We help couples with every aspect of the wedding and honeymoon.’ She launched into her spiel, but Jake cut her off before she could really get going.

‘I’m really looking for someone who can advise on what’s involved in converting a house into a wedding venue. I’m sorry,’ he said, making to get to his feet. ‘It looks as if I’ve been wasting your time.’

Cassie wasn’t ready to give up yet. ‘We do that too,’ she said quickly.

‘What, waste time?’

‘Set up wedding venues,’ she said, refusing to rise to the bait, and meeting his eyes so guilelessly that Jake was fairly sure that she was lying. ‘Between us, Joss and I have a lot of experience of using venues, and we know exactly what’s required. Where is the house?’ she asked quickly, before he could draw the conversation to a close.

‘I’m thinking about the Hall,’ he relented.

‘The Hall?’ Cassie repeated blankly. ‘Portrevick Hall?’

‘Exactly.’

‘But…isn’t it Rupert’s now?’

‘No,’ said Jake. ‘Sir Ian left the estate in trust and I’m the trustee.’

Cassie stared at him, her career crisis momentarily forgotten. ‘You?’ she said incredulously.

He smiled grimly at her expression. ‘Yes, me.’

‘What about Rupert?’ she asked, too surprised for tact.

‘Sir Ian’s money was left in trust for him. He hasn’t proved the steadiest of characters, as you may know.’

Cassie did know. Rupert’s picture was regularly in the gossip columns. There was a certain irony in the fact that Jake was now the wealthy, successful one while Rupert had a reputation as a hellraiser, albeit a very glamorous one. He seemed to get by largely on charm and those dazzling good looks.

She forced her attention back to Jake, who was still talking. ‘Sir Ian was concerned that, if he left him the money outright, Rupert would just squander it the way he has already squandered his inheritance from his parents.’

‘It just seems unfair,’ she said tentatively. ‘Rupert is Sir Ian’s nephew, after all. I’m sure he expected to inherit Portrevick Hall.’

‘I’m sure he did too,’ said Jake in a dry voice. ‘Rupert’s been borrowing heavily on exactly that expectation for the last few years now. That’s why Sir Ian put the estate into a trust. He was afraid Rupert would simply sell it off to the highest bidder otherwise.’

‘But why make you the trustee?’ said Cassie without thinking.

‘It’s not a position I angled for, I can assure you,’ Jake said with a certain astringency. ‘But I owe Sir Ian a lot, so I had to agree when he asked me. I assumed there would be plenty of time for him to change his mind, and he probably did the same. He was only in his sixties, and he’d had no history of heart problems. If only he’d lived longer…’

Restlessly, Jake pushed away his coffee cup and got to his feet. There was no point in ‘if only’s. ‘Anyway, the fact remains that I’m stuck with responsibility for the house now. I promised Sir Ian that I would make sure the estate remained intact. He couldn’t bear the thought of the Hall being broken up into flats, or holiday houses built in the grounds.

‘Obviously, I need to fulfil his wishes, but I can’t leave a house like that standing empty. It needs to be used and maintained, and somehow I’ve got to find a way for it to pay for itself.’

Coming to a halt by the window, Jake frowned unseeingly at the view while he remembered his problem. ‘When I was down at Portrevick last week, sorting out things with the solicitor, she suggested that it might make a suitable weddingvenue. It seemed like an idea worth pursuing. I happened to mention it in the pub that night, and that’s how your name came up. But, judging by your brochure, your company is more concerned with the weddings themselves rather than running the venues.’

‘Normally, yes,’ said Cassie, not so engrossed in the story of Sir Ian’s extraordinary will that she had forgotten that her new-found career with Avalon was on the line. ‘But the management of a venue is closely related to what we do, and in fact this is an area we’re looking at moving into,’ she added fluently. She would have to remember to tell Joss that they were diversifying. ‘Clearly, we have considerable experience of dealing with various venues, so we’re in a position to know exactly what facilities they need to offer.’

‘Hmm.’ Jake sounded unconvinced. He turned from the window to study Cassie, sitting alert and eager on the sofa. ‘All right, you know the Hall. Given your considerable experience, what would you think of it as a wedding venue?’

‘It would be perfect,’ said Cassie, ignoring his sarcasm. ‘It’s a beautiful old house with a wonderful location on the coast. It would be hard to imagine anywhere more romantic! I should think couples all over the South West would be queuing up to get married there.’

Jake came back to sit opposite her once more. He drummed his fingers absently on the table, obviously thinking. ‘It’s encouraging that you think it would make a popular venue, anyway,’ he said at last.

‘Yes, I do,’ said Cassie eagerly, sensing that Jake might be buying her spur-of-the-moment career shift into project management.

She leant forward persuasively. ‘I’m sure Sir Ian would approve of the idea,’ she went on. ‘He loved people, didn’t he? I bet he would have liked to see the Hall used for weddings. They’re such happy occasions.’

‘If you say so,’ said Jake, clearly unconvinced.

He studied Cassie with a faint frown, wondering if he was mad to even consider taking her advice. She had always been a dreamer, he remembered, and the curly hair and dimple gave her a warm, sweet but slightly dishevelled air that completely contradicted the businesslike suit and the stylish, totally impractical shoes.

There was something chaotic about Cassie, Jake decided. Even sitting still, she gave the alarming impression that she was on the verge of knocking something over or making a mess. Good grief, the girl couldn’t even manage walking into a room without falling over her own shoes! Having spent the last few years cultivating a careful sense of order and control, Jake found the aura of unpredictability Cassie exuded faintly disturbing.

He had a strong suspicion, too, that Cassie’s ex-perience of managing a venue was no wider than his own. She was clearly desperate for work, and would say whatever she thought he wanted to hear.

If he had any sense, he would close the meeting right now.

CHAPTER TWO

ON THE other hand…

On the other hand, Jake reminded himself, Sir Ian had been fond of her, and the fact that she knew the Hall was an undoubted advantage.

He could at least give her the chance to convince him that she knew what she was talking about. For old times’ sake, thought Jake, looking at Cassie’s mouth.

‘So what would need to be done to make the Hall a venue?’ he asked abruptly. ‘Presumably we’d have to get a licence?’

‘Absolutely,’ said Cassie with more confidence than she was feeling. ‘I imagine it would need quite a bit of refurbishment, too. You can charge a substantial fee for the hire of the venue, but in return couples will expect everything to be perfect. All the major rooms would have to be completely redecorated, and anything shabby or dingy replaced.’

Cassie was making it up as she went along, but she was banking on the fact that Jake knew less than she did about what weddings involved. Besides, how difficult could it be? She couldn’t let a little thing like not knowing what she was talking about stop her, not when the alternative was losing her job and having to admit to her family that she had failed again.

‘Naturally you would have to set it up so that everything is laid on,’ she went on, rather enjoying the authoritative note in her own voice. She would convince herself at this rate! ‘You need to think about catering, flowers, music; whatever a bride and groom could possibly want. They’re paying a lot of money for their big day, so you’ve got to make it very special for them.

‘Some people like to make all the arrangements themselves,’ she told Jake, who was listening with a kind of horrified fascination. ‘But if you want the Hall to be successful you’ll have to make it possible for them to hand over all the arrangements to the staff and not think about anything. That means being prepared to cater for every whim, as well as different kinds of weddings. It might just be a reception, or it might be the wedding itself, and that could include all sorts of different faiths, as well as civil partnerships.’

Cassie was really getting into her stride now. ‘Then you need to think about what other facilities you’re going to provide,’ she said, impressing herself with her own fluency. Who would have thought she could come out with this stuff off the top of her head? All those weddings she had attended over the past few months must have paid off.

‘The bride and groom will want somewhere to change, at the very least, or they might want to take over the whole house for a wedding party. You’ll need new kitchens too. Loos, obviously. And, of course, you’ll have to think about finding staff and making contacts with local caterers, florists, photographers and so on.

‘There’s marketing and publicity to consider as well,’ she pointed out. ‘Eventually, you’ll be able to rely on word of mouth, but it’ll be important until you’re established.’

Jake was looking appalled. ‘I didn’t realise it was such a business,’ he admitted. ‘You mean it’s not enough to clear the great hall for dancing and lay on a few white tablecloths?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

There was a long pause. Jake’s mouth was turned down, and Cassie could see him rethinking the whole idea.

Oh God, what if she had put him off? She bit her lip. That was what you got for showing off.

You always go a bit too far. How many times when she had been growing up had her mother said that to her? Cassie could practically hear her saying it now.

Anxiously, she watched Jake’s face. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

‘We’re talking about a substantial investment,’ he said slowly at last, and Cassie let out a long breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

‘Yes, but it’ll be worth it,’ she said, trying to disguise her relief. ‘Weddings are big business. If you aim for the top end of the market, the house will more than pay for itself.’

Jake was still not entirely convinced. ‘It’s a lot to think about.’

‘Not if you let us oversee everything for you,’ said Cassie, marvelling at her own nerve. ‘We could manage the whole project and set it up until it’s ready to hand over to a permanent manager.’

It was a brilliant idea, even if she said so herself. She couldn’t think why Joss hadn’t thought of going into venue management before.

Jake was watching her with an indecipherable expression. Cassie lifted her chin and tried to look confident, half-expecting him to accuse her—accurately—of bluffing, but in the end he just asked how they structured their fees.

‘I’d have to discuss that with Joss when we’ve got a clearer idea of exactly what needs to be done,’ said Cassie evasively. Joss was much harder-headed when it came to money and always dealt with the financial side of things.

‘OK.’ Jake made up his mind abruptly. ‘Let me have a detailed proposal and I’ll consider it.’

‘Great.’ Cassie’s relief was rapidly being overtaken by panic. What on earth had she committed herself to?

‘So, what next?’

Yes, what next, Cassie? Cassie gulped. ‘I think I need to take another look at the Hall and draw up a list of work required,’ she improvised.

Fortunately, this seemed to be the right thing to say. Jake nodded. ‘That makes sense. Can you come to Cornwall on Thursday? I’ve got to go back myself to see the solicitor, so we could drive down together if that suits you.’

It didn’t, but Cassie knew better than to say so. Having bluffed this far, she couldn’t give up now. A seven-hour car journey with Jake Trevelyan wasn’t her idea of a fun day, but if she could pull off a contract it would be worth it.

‘Of course,’ she said, relaxing enough to pick up her coffee at last, and promptly splashing it over her skirt. She brushed the drops away hastily, hoping that Jake hadn’t noticed. ‘I can be ready to leave whenever you are.’

Jake watched Cassie practically fall out of the door, struggling with a weekend case on wheels, a motley collection of plastic carrier-bags and a handbag that kept slipping down her arm. With a sigh, he got out of the car to help her. He was double parked outside her office, and had hoped for a quick getaway, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen.

He hadn’t made many mistakes in the last ten years, but Jake had a nasty feeling that appointing Cassie to manage the transformation of Portrevick Hall into a wedding venue might be one of them. He had been secretly impressed by the fluent way she had talked about weddings, and by the way she had seemed to know exactly what was involved, but at the same time her lack of experience was obvious. And yet she had fixed him with those big, brown eyes and distracted him with that mouth, and before Jake had quite known what he was doing he had agreed to give her the job.

He must have been mad, he decided as he took the case from her. Cassie had to be the least organised organiser he had ever met. Look at her, laden with carrier bags, the wayward brown curls blowing around face, her cardigan all twisted under the weight of her handbag!

She was a mess, Jake thought disapprovingly. She was casually dressed in a mishmash of colourful garments that appeared to be thrown together without any thought for neatness or elegance. Yes, she had grown into a surprisingly pretty girl, but she could do with some of Natasha’s poise and sophistication.

He stashed the carrier bags in the boot with the case. ‘What on earth do you need all this stuff for?’ he demanded. ‘We’re only going for a couple of nights.’

‘Most of it’s Tina’s. She came to London months ago and left half her clothes behind, so I’m taking them back to her. She’s invited me to stay with her,’ Cassie added.

Jake was sleeping at the Hall, and he’d suggested that Cassie stay there as well, but Cassie couldn’t help thinking it all seemed a bit intimate. True, the Hall had bedrooms to spare, but they would still be sleeping in the same place, bumping into each other on the way to the bathroom, wandering into the kitchen in their PJs to make tea in the morning…No; Cassie wasn’t ready to meet Jake without her make-up on yet.

‘I thought I might as well stay for the weekend, since I’m down there,’ she went on, talking over the roof of the car as she made her way round to the passenger door. ‘I haven’t seen Tina for ages. I might talk to some local contractors on Monday, too, and then come back on the train.’