Engaged To Her Ravensdale Enemy

‘I’m not in the habit of explaining myself to anyone,’ he said. ‘But no doubt they’ll hear the news like everyone else.’

Jaz glanced at her bare ring finger. Who would take their engagement seriously unless she had evidence? ‘I haven’t got a ring.’

His dark eyes gleamed with malice. ‘No spares hanging around at home?’

She sent him a beady look. ‘Do you really want me to wear some other man’s ring?’

His mouth flattened again. ‘Right. I’ll get you a ring.’

‘No fake diamonds,’ she said. ‘I want the real thing. The sort of clients I attract can tell the difference, you know.’

‘This is what this is all about, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘You don’t want your clients to think you can’t hold a man long enough to get him to marry you.’

Jaz could feel her anger building like a catastrophic storm inside her. This wasn’t about what her clients thought. It was about what she felt. No one in their right mind wanted to be rejected. Abandoned. To be told they weren’t loved in the way she desperately dreamed of being loved. Not after she had invested so much in her relationship with Myles.

What did Jake know of investing in a relationship? He moved from one woman to the next without a thought of staying long enough to get to know someone beyond what they liked to do in bed. Only Jake could make her this angry—angry enough to throw something. It infuriated her that he alone could reduce her to such a state. ‘I can hold a man,’ she said. ‘I can hold him just fine. Myles has cold feet, that’s all. It’s perfectly normal for the groom to get a little stressed before the big day.’

‘If he loved you he wouldn’t ask for a break,’ Jake said. ‘He wouldn’t risk you finding someone else.’

That thought had occurred to Jaz but she didn’t want to think about it. She was good at not thinking about things she didn’t want to think about. ‘Listen to you,’ she said with a scornful snort. ‘Jake Ravensdale, playboy extraordinaire, talking like a world expert on love.’

‘Where did you take Emma?’

‘I put her on the train once I’d talked to her mother and made sure everything was cool,’ Jaz said. ‘I didn’t want her to get into trouble or do anything she might regret.’ Like I did. She pushed the thought aside. She wouldn’t think about the rest of that night after she had left Jake’s bedroom.

Jake picked up a glass, filled it with champagne and knocked it back in one gulp. He shook his head like a dog coming out of water and then poured another glass. With his features cast in such serious lines, he looked more like his twin Julius than ever.

‘We need a photo,’ Jaz said. ‘Hand me a glass.’

He looked at her as if she had just asked him to poke a knitting needle in his eye. ‘A photo?’ he said. ‘What for?’

She helped herself to a glass of champagne and came to stand beside him but he backed away as if she was carrying dynamite. Or knitting needles. ‘Get away from me,’ he said.

‘We have to do this, Jake,’ she said. ‘Who’s going to believe it if we don’t do an engagement photo?’

‘You don’t have a ring,’ he said. ‘Yet.’ The way he said ‘yet’ made it sound as though he considered the task on the same level as having root canal therapy.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Jaz said. ‘Just a shot with us with a glass of champers and grinning like Cheshire cats will be enough.’

‘You’re a sadist,’ he said, shooting her a hooded look as she came to stand beside him with her camera phone poised. ‘You know that, don’t you? A totally sick sadist.’

It was impossible for Jaz not to notice how hard and warm his arm was against hers as she leaned in to get the shot. Impossible not to think of those strongly muscled arms gathering her even closer. Was he as aware of her as she was of him? Was that why he was standing so still? He hadn’t been this close to her in years. When family photographs had been taken—even though strictly speaking she wasn’t family—she had always been up the other end of the shot close to Miranda or one of Jake’s parents. She had never stood right next to Jake. Not so close she could practically feel the blood pumping through his veins. She checked the photo and groaned. ‘Oh, come on,’ she said. ‘Surely you can do better than that. You look like someone’s got a broomstick up your—’

‘Okay, we’ll try again.’ He put an arm around her shoulders and leaned his head against hers. She could feel the strands of his tousled hair tickling her skin. Her senses were going haywire when his stubbly jaw grazed her face. He smelt amazing—lime and lemongrass with a hint of ginger or some other spice. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Take the goddamn shot.’

‘Oh...right,’ Jaz said and clicked the button. She checked the photo but this time it looked like she was the one being tortured. Plus it was blurred. ‘Not my best angle.’ She deleted it and held up the phone. ‘One more take. Say cheese.’

‘That’s enough,’ he said, stepping away from her once she’d taken the shot. ‘You have to promise me you’ll delete that when this is all over, okay?’

Jaz criss-crossed her chest with her hand. ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

He grunted as if her demise was something he was dearly praying for.

She sent the tweet and then quickly sent a text to Miranda:

I know you never liked Myles. You approve of fiancé # 4?

Miranda’s text came back within seconds.

OMG! Definitely!!! Congrats. Always knew you were hot for each other. J Will call later xxxxx

‘Who are you texting?’ Jake asked.

‘Miranda,’ Jaz said, putting her phone down. ‘She’s thrilled for us. We’ll finally be sisters. Yay.’

He muttered a curse and prowled around the room like a shark in a fishbowl. ‘Julius is never going to fall for this. Not for a moment.’

‘He’ll have to if you want Emma to go away,’ Jaz said. ‘If you don’t play along I’ll tell her the truth.’

He threw her a filthy look. ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

She smiled a victor’s smile. ‘What’s that saying about revenge is a dish best eaten cold?’

He glowered at her. ‘Isn’t it a little childish to be harking on about that night all these years later? I did you a favour back then. I could’ve done you that night but how would that have worked out? Ever thought about that? No. You want to paint me as the big, bad guy who made you feel a little embarrassed about that schoolgirl crush. But, believe me, I could have done a whole lot worse.’

Jaz stepped out of his way as he stormed past her to leave the room. You did do a whole lot worse, she wanted to throw after him. But instead she clamped her lips together and turned back to look at the discarded bottles and glasses.

Typical. Jake had a habit of leaving his mess for other people to clean up.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_aad4c501-8dd4-5886-81df-ac3038bf0bce)

JAKE WAS SO mad he could see red spots in front of his eyes. Or maybe he was having a brain aneurysm from anger build-up. Seven years of it. He paced the floor of his room, raking his hair, grinding his teeth, swearing like a Brooklyn rapper at what Jasmine had done to him. Engaged! What a freaking farce. No one would believe it. Not him. Not the playboy prince of the pick-ups.

His stomach turned at the thought. Committed. Tied down. Trapped. He was the last person who would ever tie himself down to one woman and certainly not someone like Jasmine Connolly. She was a manipulative little witch. She was using him. Using him to lure back her third fiancé. Who on earth got engaged three times? Someone who was obsessed with getting married, that was who. Jasmine didn’t seem to care who she got engaged to as long as they had money and status.

But through the red mist of anger he could see her solution had some merit. Emma Madden had taken the news of their ‘engagement’ rather well. He had been poleaxed to see that kid standing on the doorstep. He could count on half a hand how many times he’d been caught off guard but seeing that kid there was right up there. If anyone had seen her—anyone being the press, that was—he would have been toast. He didn’t want to be cruel to the girl but how else could he get rid of her? Jasmine’s solution seemed to have worked. So far. But how long would he have to stay ‘engaged’?

Then there was his family to deal with. He could probably pull off the lie with his parents and Miranda but not his twin. Julius knew him too well. Julius knew how much he hated the thought of being confined in a relationship. Jake was more like his father in that way. His father wasn’t good at marriage. Richard and Elisabetta fought as passionately as they made up. It was a war zone one minute and a love fest the next. As a child Jake had found it deeply unsettling—not that he’d ever showed it. His role in the family was the court jester. It was his way of coping with the turbulent emotions that flew around like missiles. He’d never known what he was coming home to.

Then eventually it had happened. The divorce had been bitter and public and the intrusion of the press terrifying to a child of eight. He and Julius had been packed off to boarding school but, while Julius had relished the routine, structure and discipline, Jake had not. Julius had excelled academically while Jake had scraped through, not because he wasn’t intellectually capable but because in an immature and mostly subconscious way he hadn’t wanted his parents to think their divorce had had a positive effect on him.

But he had more than made up for it in his business analysis company. He was successful and wealthy and had the sort of life most people envied. The fly-in, fly-out nature of his work suited his personality. He didn’t hang around long. He just got in there, sorted out the problems and left. Which was how he liked to conduct his relationships.

Being tied to Jasmine, even if it was only a game of charades, was nothing less than torture. He had spent the last seven years avoiding her. Distancing himself from all physical contact. He had even failed to show up for some family functions in an effort to avoid the tension of being in the same room as her. He’d had plenty of lectures from Julius and Miranda about fixing things with Jasmine but why should he apologise? He hadn’t done anything wrong. He had done the opposite. He had solved the problem, not made it worse. It was her that was still in a snit over something she should have got over years ago.

She had been a cute little kid but once she’d hit her teens she’d changed into a flirty little vamp. It had driven him nuts. She had followed him around like a loyal puppy, trying to sneak time with him, touching him ‘by accident’ and batting those impossibly long eyelashes at him. He had gone along with it for a while, flirting back in a playful manner, but in the end that had backfired, as she’d seemed to think he was serious about her. He wasn’t serious about anyone. But on the night of his parents New Year’s Eve party, when she’d been sixteen and he twenty-six, he had drawn the line. He’d activated a plan to give her the message loud and clear: He was a player, not the soppy, romantic happy-ever-after beau she imagined him to be.

That night she had dressed in a revealing outfit that was far too old for her and had worn make-up far too heavy. To Jake she had looked like a kid who had rummaged around in her mother’s wardrobe. In the dark. He had gone along with her flirtation all evening, agreeing to meet with her in his room just after midnight. But instead of turning up alone as she’d expected he’d brought a couple of girls with him, intending to shock Jasmine into thinking he was expecting an orgy. It had certainly done the trick. She had left him alone ever since. He couldn’t remember the last time she had spoken to him other than to make some cutting remark and the only time she looked at him was to spear him with a death-adder glare. Which had suited him just fine.