she bear it? He wouldn’t be sympathetic and consoling. He would roll about the floor laughing, saying, I told you so.
Jake hooked his finger through the loop on the collar of his Italian leather jacket and slung it over his shoulder. ‘You’d better make yourself scarce if you’re not in the mood for a party. I have guests arriving in an hour.’
Jaz’s stomach dropped like a lift with snapped cables. ‘Guests?’
His shoes crunched over the gravel as he strode towards the grand old Elizabethan mansion’s entrance. ‘Yep, the ones that eat and drink and don’t sleep.’
She followed him into the house feeling like a teacup Chihuahua trying to keep up with an alpha wolf. ‘What the hell? How many guests? Are they all female?’
He flashed her a white-toothed smile. ‘You know me so well.’
Jaz could feel herself lighting up with lava-hot heat. Most of it burned in her cheeks at the thought of having to listen to him rocking on with a harem of his Hollywood wannabes. Unlike his identical twin brother Julius and his younger sister Miranda, who did everything they could to distance themselves from their parents’ fame, Jake cashed in on it. Big-time. He was shameless in how he exploited it for all it was worth—which wasn’t much, in Jaz’s opinion. She had been the victim of his exploitative tactics when she’d been sixteen on the night of one of his parents’ legendary New Year’s Eve parties. He had led her on to believe he was serious about...
But she never thought about that night in his bedroom. Never.
‘You can’t have a party,’ Jaz said as she followed him into the house. ‘Mrs Eggleston’s away. She’s visiting her sister in Bath.’
‘Which is why I’ve chosen this weekend,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve organised the catering.’
Jaz folded her arms and glowered at him. ‘And I bet I know what’s on the menu.’ Him. Being licked and ego-stroked by a bevy of bimbo airheads who drank champagne like it was water and ate nothing in case they put on an ounce. She only hoped they were all of age.
‘You want to join us?’
Jaz jerked her chin back against her neck and made a scoffing noise. ‘Are you out of your mind? I couldn’t think of anything worse than watching a bunch of wannabe starlets get taken in by your particular version of charm. I’d rather chew razor blades.’
He shrugged one of his broad shoulders as if he didn’t care either way. ‘No skin off my nose.’
Jaz thought she would like to scratch every bit of skin off that arrogant nose. She hadn’t been alone with him in years. There had always been other members of his family around whenever they’d come to Ravensdene. Why hadn’t Eggles told her he would be here? Mrs Eggleston, the long-time housekeeper, knew how much Jaz hated Jake.
Everyone knew it. The feud between them had gone on for seven years. The air crackled with static electricity when they were in the same room even if there were crowds of other people around. The antagonism she felt towards Jake had grown exponentially every year. He had a habit of looking at her a certain way, as if he was thinking back to that night in his room when she had made the biggest fool of herself. His dark-blue eyes would take on a mocking gleam as if he could remember every inch of her body where it had been lying waiting for him in his bed in nothing but her underwear.
She gave a mental cringe. Yes, her underwear. What had she been thinking? Why had she fallen for it? Why hadn’t she realised he’d been playing her for a fool? The humiliation he had subjected her to, the shame, the embarrassment of being hauled out of his bed in front of his... Grrhh! She would not think about it.
She. Would. Not.
Jaz’s father wasn’t even here to referee. He was away on a cruise of the Greek Islands with his new wife. Her father didn’t belong to Jaz any more—not that he ever had. His work had always been more important than her. How could a garden, even one as big as the one at Ravensdene, be more important than his only child? But no, now he belonged to Angela.
Going back to London was out of the question. Jaz wasn’t ready to announce the pause on her engagement. Not yet. Not until she knew for sure it was over. Not even to Miranda. Not while there was a slither of hope. All she had to do was make Myles see what he was missing out on. She was his soul mate. Of course she was. Everybody said so. Well, maybe not everybody, but she didn’t need everyone’s approval. Not even his parents’ approval, which was a good thing, considering they didn’t like her. But then, they were horrid toffee-nosed snobs and she didn’t like them either.
Jaz did everything for Myles. She cooked, she cleaned, she organised his social calendar. She turned her timetable upside down and inside out so she could be available for him. She even had sex with him when she didn’t feel like it. Which was more often than not, for some strange reason. Was that why Myles wanted a break? Because she wasn’t sexually assertive enough? Not raunchy enough? She could do raunchy. She could wear dress-up costumes and play games. She would hate it but if it won him back she would do it. Other men found her attractive. Sure they did.
She was fighting off men all the time. She wasn’t vain but she knew she had the package: the looks, the figure, the face and the hair. And she was whip-smart. She had her own bridal design company and she was not quite twenty-four.
Sure, she’d had a bit of help from Jake’s parents, Richard and Elisabetta Ravensdale, in setting up. In fact, if it hadn’t been for them, she wouldn’t have had the brilliant education she’d had. They had stepped in when her mother had left her at Ravensdene on an access visit when she was eight and had never returned.
Not that it bothered Jaz that her mother hadn’t come back for her. Not really. She was mightily relieved she hadn’t had to go back to that cramped and mouldy, rat-infested flat in Brixton where the neighbours fought harder than the feral cats living near the garbage collection point. It was the principle of the thing that was the issue. Being left like a package on a doorstep wasn’t exactly how one expected to be treated as a young child. But still, living at the Elizabethan mansion Ravensdene in Buckinghamshire had been much preferable. It was like being at a country spa resort with acres of verdant fields, dark, shady woods and a river meandering through the property like a silver ribbon.
This was home and the Ravensdales were family.
Well, apart from Jake, of course.
* * *
Jake tossed the bag on his bed and let out a filthy curse. What the hell was Jasmine Connolly doing here? He had made sure the place was empty for the weekend. He had a plan and Jasmine wasn’t part of it. He did everything he could to avoid her. But when he couldn’t he did everything he could to annoy her. He got a kick out of seeing her clench her teeth and flash those grey-blue eyes at him like tongues of flame. She was a pain in the backside but he wasn’t going to let her dictate what he could and couldn’t do. This was his family home, not hers. She might have benefited from being raised with his kid sister Miranda but she was still the gardener’s daughter.
Jaz had been intent on marrying up since she’d been a kid. At sixteen she’d had her sights on him. On him! What a joke. He was ten years older than her; marriage hadn’t been on his radar then and it wasn’t on it now. It wasn’t even in his vocabulary.
Jaz did nothing but think about marriage. Her whole life revolved around it. She was a good designer, he had to give her that, but it surely wasn’t healthy to be so obsessed with the idea of marriage? Forty per cent of marriages
