To Woo A Wife - Кэрол Мортимер - Читать онлайн любовный роман

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«To Woo A Wife» - Кэрол Мортимер

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Title Page Dedication CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN Copyright

“I kissed you. And you liked it!”

She took a sharp intake of breath, swallowing hard. He was right; she had liked it....

“I think your ego may be getting in the way again, Jarrett,” Abbie told him. “You just can’t seem to accept that every female you meet isn’t going to fall willingly into your arms! I’ll admit I was curious for a while, but—despite what you may have thought—my husband was a more-than-capable lover. He knew exactly how to please a woman.” Her gaze was coolly steady on Jarrett’s now angry face. “No other man could ever take his place in my life.”

“I don’t want to take his place!” Jarrett visibly recoiled. “You already know my views on marriage—”

“And you already know mine on affairs....”

Jarrett, Jonathan and Jordan are

Some men are meant to marry!

Meet three brothers: Jarrett is the eldest—Hunter by name, hunter by nature. Jonathan’s in the middle and a real charmer; there’s never been a woman whom he wanted and couldn’t have. Jordan is the youngest and he’s devilishly attractive. But he’s determined never to succumb to emotional commitment.

These bachelor brothers appear to have it all—looks, wealth, power.... But what about love? That’s where Abbie, Gaye and Stazy come in. As Jarrett, Jonathan and Jordan are about to discover—wanting a woman is one thing, winning her heart is quite another....

Look out for Jonathan’s story next month!

To Woo a Wife

Carole Mortimer

For Peter

CHAPTER ONE

‘IT ISN’T that I don’t appreciate the suggestion that I join you all for dinner, Stephen,’ the man drawled in a bored voice. ‘It’s just that making up a foursome isn’t something I’ve made a habit of; I’ve inevitably found that any woman deliberately out on her own for the evening is either on the hunt for a rich man—or, even worse, she’s a paper-bag job!’

The woman dismissed as either ‘on the hunt for a rich man—or even worse... a paper-bag job’ had entered the hotel lounge and bar seconds ago, and had been in the process of locating her hosts for the evening—her friend Alison and her new husband Stephen—when she had unwittingly overheard the man’s insulting remark.

She had found Alison and Stephen—and they weren’t alone. Not that Abbie could actually see them, or they her, hidden behind the huge plant that stood majestically in the plush room. And, in view of what the man had just said, perhaps it was as well!

‘I think that’s a bit strong, Jarrett,’ Alison protested indignantly. “These days, women can go anywhere, and do anything they want to do. And we don’t need a man to do it with!’

Well, at least Abbie knew his name now. Jarrett... It meant nothing to her.

‘Do these “go-anywhere” women get married?’ the man called Jarrett taunted pointedly.

They have the right to choose that option if they wish to—as I did,’ Alison returned heatedly. ‘I’m just pointing out that we don’t need a man for our very existence, as our grandmothers did, and possibly our mothers too. We have careers now, earn our own money, and therefore marriage isn’t the necessity it once was—’

Stephen’s husky laugh interrupted her. ‘I have a feeling you’re being deliberately wound up, my love.’

The other man laughed too. ‘Guilty, I’m afraid. I’m sorry, Alison, it really isn’t fair of me when you’re still on your honeymoon. I think it’s great that the two of you decided to get married. I’m only sorry I missed the wedding. I find it incredible that I’ve bumped into the two of you like this. I had no idea you were coming to Canada skiing.’

Abbie had missed the wedding too, which was why, after numerous protests that she hadn’t wanted to interrupt their honeymoon, she had accepted the couple’s invitation to join them this evening. But it was obvious from this man Jarrett’s comments that his meeting with the newly-weds was purely coincidental.

If Abbie had thought it was anything else, that she was possibly being set up with this man by well-meaning friends, then she would have turned around and left the hotel without even making her presence here known, would simply have telephoned her apologies. But she didn’t really think that was the case; Alison was well aware of her feelings towards relationships. They simply didn’t exist as far as Abbie was concerned.

Although she had to admit Jarrett’s initial remark had stung, making her look critically at herself in one of the mirrors that lined the bar walls. As tall as a model, her legs were long and shapely; she was wearing a black sheath of a dress that moulded her figure, its length a couple of inches short of her knees. But over the stylish dress she had put on a thin silk jacket the same violet-blue colour of her eyes, its loose style detracting from the clinging material of her dress. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a neat chignon, her make-up subtly delicate.

She tried to see herself through the man Jarrett’s eyes, and decided he would think her cool and aloof, not quite a ‘paper-bag job’, but certainly not vibrantly beautiful either!

‘Nevertheless,’ Jarrett continued lightly, ‘I really do have to turn down your invitation to join you all. Your friend may not mind playing gooseberry, Alison, but I certainly do!’

Abbie felt the heat in her cheeks at what she was sure was a rebuke aimed at her in her absence. But she had been intensely reluctant too when Alison had asked her to join herself and Stephen this evening, conscious that the couple were still on their honeymoon. But Alison had completely pooh-poohed the idea of Abbie intruding, reminding her she and Stephen had lived together for a year before their wedding two weeks ago, and that they certainly weren’t in the first romantic flush of togetherness!

Abbie moved as quietly away from the trio and from behind the huge plant as she had approached them, going out to the powder-room in the lobby. Once there she removed her jacket, replenished her make-up but applied it more deeply this time, and made a final alteration to her hair as she deftly removed all the pins that held it so neatly in place. The result was a wild tumble of black gypsy-like strands almost down to her waist, the flowing darkness highlighting her high cheekbones, the clear beauty of her eyes, and the pouting fullness of her mouth.

A paper-bag job—huh!

She left the jacket in the cloakroom with the warm outer coat she had deposited there earlier, crossing the reception area with long, easy strides, aware of the male interest that followed her progress, but not acknowledging it by so much as a flick of her long black hair, the light of challenge sparkling in her violet-blue eyes.

That male reaction to her looks spoke for itself; she wasn’t ‘on the hunt for a rich man’, either, the diamonds that sparkled in her earlobes and wrist giving testament to that. She couldn’t help wondering, a little gleefully, she admitted, exactly what Jarrett was going to make of her!

She didn’t pause inside the bar this time but walked straight over to the table where she knew Alison and Stephen sat with the other man. She smiled widely at her friend as Alison looked up and saw her approach.

‘Abbie!’ Alison stood up to hug her warmly. ‘You look wonderful!’ she stood back to say admiringly—if slightly surprised too.

‘You certainly do.’ Stephen stood up to kiss her lightly on the cheek.

The newly-weds made an attractive couple, Alison a tall redhead, Stephen tall and blond. Abbie had known the two of them for years, had always been able to relax and be herself in their company. Except tonight they weren’t alone...

She turned coolly to look at the man with the deeply male voice, the man she knew only as Jarrett, feeling the equivalent of a mild electric shock as she saw him for the first time. He was one of those men you would never forget when you had met him: devilishly attractive!

Possibly ten years older than her own twenty-seven, he had lines of experience on that handsome face to go with his maturity. And it was probably those lines, and the cynical light in his assessing amber eyes as he returned her gaze, that saved him from being just too good-looking.

As he politely stood up, Abbie could see he was tall and powerfully built, with not an ounce of superfluous flesh on the lean length of his body that was clothed in a navy blue jacket, pale grey shirt and grey trousers. His dark hair was slightly overlong, curling attractively as it met the collar of his jacket, his face perfectly sculptured, jaw square and determined below a mockingly smiling mouth. But it was his eyes that dominated, that deep gleaming amber one of the most unusual colours Abbie had ever seen. Like the eyes of a tiger...

‘Abbie, this is a friend of mine from London.’ Stephen stepped in to introduce the two of them. ‘Jarrett Hunter.’

Hunter... It suited him, Abbie decided ruefully. ‘And I’m Abbie,’ she put in smoothly, holding out a long, slender, completely ringless hand, her nails kept short and lacquerless.

He reached out and took her hand in his, his own warm but firm to the touch, his grip neither too tight nor too limp; Daniel had always said you could tell a lot about a man from his handshake. If that were to be believed, this man was neither remote nor overly friendly!

‘Just Abbie?’ he murmured, that golden gaze blazing on the smooth perfection of her face.

‘Just Abbie.’ She easily forestalled Stephen as he -would have spoken.

‘It’s what she was known as during our years on the catwalk together.’ Alison spoke lightly as they all resumed their seats, Abbie now occupying a chair to the other woman’s left, with Jarrett Hunter opposite her.

He turned to Abbie with renewed interest, his male assessment of her feminine attributes made swiftly and easily. He relaxed back in his own armchair. “So you’re a model, too,’ he murmured appreciatively.

‘I was,’ she answered quietly, ordering a sparkling mineral water when a waiter approached her.

Amber eyes widened interestedly. ‘But not any more?’

‘No, not any more,’ she told him before turning back to the newly married couple, aware as she did so that Jarrett Hunter was still watching her with narrowed eyes. She guessed, with a certain amount of amusement at his expense, that he was having trouble categorising her. Like Alison, as a model, she had been assessed and processed and put into the appropriate box. Since she was no longer a model but obviously self-assured and moderately wealthy at least, he was obviously wondering exactly what she was now. She didn’t think he had a hope of guessing!

‘I can’t tell you how pleased we are to see you here, Abbie.’ Alison leant forward to clasp her arm. ‘We don’t see half enough of you these days,’ she added with disappointment.

Abbie shrugged, aware that, for all he appeared perfectly relaxed and uninterested as he sat back in his chair, Jarrett Hunter was actually listening intently to every word spoken. Obviously he was a man who didn’t like mysteries—and she was fast becoming one to him!

‘I don’t know where the time goes,’ she answered regretfully. ‘One day I’m in London, the next in Hong Kong, and today I’m in Canada!’

‘You enjoy travelling, Abbie?’ Jarrett Hunter was regarding her rather scornfully now, perhaps envisaging her as a social butterfly with a certain amount of contempt.

Abbie coolly returned his scathing glance. ‘Not particularly, Mr Hunter,’ she drawled dismissively.

Puzzlement flickered in those amber depths as he frowned slightly. ‘Then why—?’

‘I believe our table is ready.’ Stephen smoothly cut in on their conversation as the waiter approached their table again, his blue eyes widely innocent as Jarrett turned to him to protest. ‘I know you said earlier that you were busy this evening, Jarrett, but are you sure you won’t join us?’ he added.

Abbie’s mouth quirked slightly with amusement as she looked admiringly at her friend’s new husband; Stephen could almost be aware that she had overheard Jarrett Hunter’s stinging remarks earlier at her expense! Or maybe he was just finding his friend’s male reaction to her, after his earlier scathing comments about single women, a cause for amusement himself...! Whatever, Stephen was enjoying this situation immensely!

‘I—’

‘Please don’t think of changing your arrangements on my account.’ Abbie gave Jarrett Hunter a bright, vacuous smile as they all stood up. ‘Gone are the days, I can assure you, when we women needed a male escort to be able to go out to dinner. Thank goodness’!’ she added with feeling.

Alison gave her a sharp, questioning look before glancing towards the entrance to the bar, obviously taking in the presence of the large, concealing plant that stood near their seats, a knowing look in her eyes now as she met Abbie’s innocent gaze.

Jarrett Hunter was looking at her with narrowed eyes too, but for a completely different reason. He was still trying to fit her into a particular niche—and failing utterly! ‘I don’t actually have any other arrangements for dinner this evening,’ he finally said slowly. ‘I just didn’t want to intrude...’

‘How kind of you,’ Abbie said. ‘Alison and I have so much news to catch up on.’

‘...on Alison and Stephen’s honeymoon,’ Jarrett Hunter finished softly, challenge in those golden eyes now.

He had very capably turned the tables on her, trying—and succeeding!—in putting her in a defensive position. But not an irretrievable one—

‘Alison and I have been married almost two weeks; we go home the day after tomorrow—the honeymoon is over!’ Stephen very neatly came to her rescue.

Alison tucked her arm possessively through the crook of his. ‘Only the social part,’ she warned.

‘Take a tip from me, Jarrett,’ Stephen told his friend with an affected groan. ‘Never marry a younger woman!’

Abbie and Alison were both twenty-seven, whereas the two men were probably in their late thirties, though considering they looked athletically fit, their bodies lithe and firm, Stephen’s last remark had to be a joke. And it was one that Abbie and Alison both responded to.

Not so Jarrett Hunter. ‘I never intend marrying at all,’ he drawled arrogantly.

Abbie looked at him with new interest; so the two of them had something in common, after all. She had no intention of ever being married, either. But she had her own reasons for that decision. She wondered what Jarrett Hunter’s were...

‘Why settle for one delicious dessert?’ He scornfully supplied the answer to her question, even as she thought it. ‘When I have a liking for so many?’ he added.

Abbie was beginning actively to dislike him—and his sweeping statements!

‘But I happen to know I like strawberry trifle best,’ Stephen told the other man, with an affectionate grin at Alison’s red hair.

‘Maybe you do like it best,’ Jarrett Hunter accepted in a bored voice. ‘But a constant diet of it could become—tedious. ’

‘You have a sweet tooth, Mr Hunter?’ Abbie put in swiftly as she saw Alison was about to explode indignantly at the insult he had just delivered to her twoweek-old marriage with his double-edged conversation. Not surprisingly, in the circumstances!

Jarrett turned to her with cool golden eyes. ‘No more than the next man—Abbie,’ he returned.

She could see by looking at him that he was a virile man, that he had probably had more than his fair share of women attracted to his arrogant attractiveness. But, considering Alison and Stephen were on their honeymoon, his remark was highly inflammatory.

‘Really?’ Abbie replied consideringly. ‘I don’t have a sweet tooth at all, so I don’t have that particular problem.’ She drew his remarks back to her, and away from the much more volatile Alison; her friend’s red hair was indicative of her fiery nature, and if Jarrett Hunter wasn’t careful he was going to end up floored by Alison’s heated remarks. And that would be a pity, when she and Stephen had obviously enjoyed their honeymoon so far.

That golden gaze travelled the length of her shapely legs, over the sensuous curves of her body so lovingly outlined by the fitted black dress, up to the beauty of her face, surrounded by a dark tumble of long hair. ‘You surprise me, Abbie,’ he murmured dryly.

‘Do I?’ Violet-blue eyes steadily met gold.

‘Well, perhaps not,’ he replied with slow deliberation. ‘I’ve always thought that chocolate éclairs look appetising, until you bite into them and find there’s no substance.’ He gave a grimace, his gaze still holding hers.

Abbie could feel the angry colour rising in her cheeks even as she heard Alison gasp at the force of his remark. He was being deliberately insulting. But then, so was she. In fact, she had probably goaded him into this exchange, still stung by those earlier comments of his that she’d overheard.

‘Thank goodness I save myself the disappointment,’ she dismissed lightly. ‘Dinner, people,’ she announced pointedly.

‘Jarrett?’ Stephen prompted, grinning as he had enjoyed the exchange.

That golden gaze once more ran the length of Abbie’s slenderly alluring body, pausing briefly on the curve of her hips and breasts, before once again pausing on the beauty of her face. ‘As long as Abbie doesn’t mind,’ he murmured challengingly. ‘After all, I am being rather forced on her for the evening,’ he added smoothly.

This was the very last thing she wanted, an evening spent in Jarrett’s abrasive company not something she would deliberately wish on herself. And he knew it too, which was probably the reason why he had made the challenge in the first place.

‘You will be Alison and Stephen’s guest, not mine,’ she returned distantly.

Dark brows rose over those golden eyes. ‘In that case—I accept the invitation.’

She had known that he would, known that somehow he couldn’t resist the opportunity of finding out more about her. He no more found her a chocolate éclair without substance than he did a ‘paper-bag job’!

‘You overheard him earlier, didn’t you?’ Alison spoke softly at Abbie’s side as the two women preceded the men into the hotel restaurant, her arm draped loosely through the crook of Abbie’s. ‘You came into the bar and heard what he was saying about—’

‘Who on earth is he?’ Abbie hissed indignantly. ‘I’ve never met such an arrogant, overbearing, pompous, self-opinionated—’

‘You did overhear him.’ Alison giggled gleefully. ‘Isn’t he just unbelievable?’ She glanced back briefly to where the two men strolled along behind them chatting idly together.

‘The man is a dinosaur!’ Abbie returned disgustedly, shaking her head, aware of his golden eyes on her now, and the gentle sway of her hips, as she walked. Her years on the catwalk had given her the confidence not even to falter.

‘Who doesn’t believe in marriage,’ her friend acknowledged happily. ‘The two of you could be kindred spirits!’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Alison,’ Abbie protested impatiently. ‘You heard the man; he likes a little taste of every dessert there is going, whereas I—’

‘Don’t have a sweet tooth,’ Alison finished with another giggle. ‘What a marvellous conversation that was,’ she added admiringly.

Abbie frowned at her friend. ‘You didn’t seem to find it so funny when he was being so disparaging about Stephen’s preference for strawberry trifle!’

Alison grinned. ‘So, I’ve never met a misogynist before—’

‘He isn’t a woman-hater, Alison; he devours them!’ Abbie corrected her disgustedly. ‘And the ones he finds unpalatable he spits out again!’

Alison gave the two men another glance. ‘If I weren’t so in love with Stephen I might have a go at proving him wrong!’

‘You and several hundred other women,’ Abbie replied scathingly. ‘It’s his ploy, Alison. It’s the way he gets a taste of every dessert; every woman thinks she’ll be his favourite flavour—and not just of the month!’

‘We’re doing it too now.’ Her friend laughed softly. ‘But you have to admit, he isn’t a man any woman could just ignore.’

Not even her, Abbie inwardly acknowledged. But outwardly she would never admit such a thing. ‘You do realise I’m going to choose the most expensive thing on the menu as retribution, don’t you?’ she said dryly, deeply annoyed with herself for even being aware of Jarrett Hunter.

‘That’s okay,’ her friend said easily. ‘We wouldn’t be here at all if you hadn’t given us this wonderful honeymoon as our wedding present, so the least we can do is take you out to dinner as a way of saying thank you.’

But it was a thank-you Abbie had tried hard to get out of earlier today. It was purely coincidence that she happened to be in Canada at the same time as them.

‘I don’t need a thank-you, Alison—’

‘I believe we are at our table, ladies.’ Jarrett Hunter smoothly cut in on their conversation, he and Stephen pulling back the two chairs at the round table to enable them to sit down, a fourth place having been laid for Jarrett.

As she’d expected from the shape of the table, Abbie had Stephen seated on one side of her, and Jarrett on the other, and lucky Alison had exactly the same arrangement. What a wonderful evening this was going to be!

Abbie had to admit that Alison and Stephen did appear to be enjoying themselves. Stephen even sending Abbie a conspiratorial wink over the top of the menu he was supposed to be looking at.

The menus they were all looking at. Except Abbie couldn’t seem to concentrate on hers, because she was so very conscious of the hard, arrogant man seated to her left.

Who was Jarrett Hunter? What was he doing here? He didn’t seem the sort of man who would take a holiday on his own, but who would probably be quite happy to put up with the tedium of a constant diet of a single dessert for a couple of weeks or so. It had to be better, from his point of view, than being without a dessert at all!

Yet he appeared to be alone here, otherwise he would surely have been with his partner this evening. So what was he doing here alone in a Canadian skiing resort in the middle of January? Somehow, glancing surreptitiously at his hard, unyielding face, with those enigmatic golden eyes, Abbie didn’t think he was about to enlighten them on that particular subject.

‘What takes your fancy, Abbie?’

She blinked at the sound of his husky voice, focusing with effort on the ruggedly handsome face dominated by those tiger-like eyes. She knew she hadn’t imagined the slightly suggestive tone of his voice, could see the mockery in those unblinking eyes as he met her gaze.

She closed the menu decisively. ‘A green salad, followed by grilled salmon.’

He quirked dark brows. ‘I thought you said you were no longer a model?’

‘I’m not,’ she responded. ‘But old habits die hard,’ she explained, giving him a considering look. ‘Let me guess what you’re going to order...’ She made a mental inventory of the menu she had just perused. ‘Oysters followed by a T-bone steak. Rare!’ She quirked her own brows questioningly in return.

‘You’re right about the steak,’ he nodded. ‘However, I prefer it to be cooked medium-rare. As for the oysters ...!’ He grimaced. ‘I’m allergic to all shellfish.’

‘Really?’ Alison interjected interestedly. ‘What happens if you eat it?’

‘Ignore my little ghoul, Jarrett,’ Stephen advised with a rueful shake of his head at his wife. ‘We really don’t need to know what happens.’

‘You’re so squeamish, Stephen,’ Alison teased affectionately. ‘He almost has to be hospitalised if he cuts himself shaving!’ she confided to Abbie and Jarrett.

‘Not the ideal person to be your birthing-partner when the time comes,’ Jarrett acknowledged.

‘Birthing-partner...?’ Alison looked puzzled. ‘But—I’m not pregnant, Jarrett!’ Indignation deepened her voice. ‘What on earth made you think that I am?’ she demanded as she glared at him, quite put out by the suggestion.

Abbie looked at Jarrett too, amazed to see that he actually looked uncomfortable at the erroneous assumption he had made. And so he should be; cynicism was one thing, this was something else!

‘I’m sorry.’ Jarrett’s apology encompassed Stephen too. ‘I just assumed—wrongly, as it turns out,’ he acknowledged self-derisively. ‘I couldn’t think of any other reason why the two of you had—I—’

‘Shut up, Jarrett, there’s a good chap,’ Stephen advised good-naturedly, squeezing Alison’s hand reassuringly. ‘I merely asked Alison to many me because I love her, and—’

‘She merely accepted because she loves you,’ Abbie concluded lightly. ‘The best possible reason for getting married!’ She shot Jarrett Hunter a censorious frown. Really, the man wasn’t safe to be let out on his own; it was a wonder to her he had any friends left to insult! Admittedly, she had been a little surprised herself by Alison and Stephen’s decision to get married after all this time, but she certainly hadn’t made the outrageous assumption about it that Jarrett Hunter obviously had!

‘The best,’ Jarrett agreed, shooting Abbie a grateful look for her timely intervention. ‘And, to answer your earlier question, Alison, when I eat shellfish, my throat swells up and I can’t breathe.’

Abbie’s mouth quirked into a smile she couldn’t contain. ‘Feel like ordering a dozen oysters for him, Alison?’ she taunted mischievously.

‘Two dozen!’ Alison joined in the joke, visibly relaxing as she too began to smile.

‘Oh, let’s not be too cruel,’ Stephen added. ‘A dozen and a half should do it!’

‘Okay, okay!’ Jarrett held up his hands in defeat, grinning ruefully. ‘I’ve apologised for—well, I’ve apologysed,’ he amended as Abbie frowned warningly. ‘Let’s order our meal—minus oysters for me—and I promise to try and keep my cynicism to myself for the rest of the evening!’

Rather a rash promise for him to have made, Abbie thought as they gave the waiter their orders, considering almost every comment Jarrett made was grounded in that cynicism! Although it could be interesting watching him try to keep his promise!

‘Thanks for your help just then.’ Jarrett leant slightly towards her to murmur quietly, the newly-weds talking softly to each other now.

Abbie looked at him with cool violet-blue eyes. ‘I didn’t do it to help you,’ she returned as softly. ‘You obviously have no idea that Alison had a miscarriage six months ago, that the two of them were absolutely devastated by the loss. And that their wedding two weeks ago had absolutely nothing to do with that; why should it?’

Jarrett looked pale, glancing at the other couple, obviously relieved to see them laughing together. ‘You’re right, I had no idea...’

‘Perhaps a curb on your cynicism for the evening wouldn’t be such a bad idea...?’ she prompted distantly, not feeling that she had betrayed any confidences by talking of the baby Alison and Stephen had lost; it had been no secret, and with this man’s penchant for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time he could do more damage by not being aware of the miscarriage. ‘A modification of your misogynistic views?’

He grimaced. ‘I’ve said I’ll try.’

He would do a lot more than try, if he didn’t want to receive a well-aimed kick under the table from the high heel of one of her shoes!

‘I suggest we all begin again, Mr Hunter,’ she murmured pointedly.

‘Jarrett,’ he put in smoothly.

Too smoothly. When she suggested they start again, she didn’t mean on a different footing; she still didn’t have a sweet tooth! ‘Mr Hunter,’ she repeated firmly. ‘Wake up, you two,’ she teased the honeymooners as they gazed into each other’s eyes. ‘Jarrett is about to tell us all exactly what he’s doing in Canada.’

‘I am?’ he said.

He hadn’t moved in his chair, still appeared perfectly relaxed, and yet Abbie sensed there was a sudden tension in him. She wondered why...

‘You are,’ Abbie confirmed lightly, though there was challenge in the cool blue of her eyes as she calmly met his.

His steely gaze never left Abbie’s face as he calmly responded, ‘There’s no mystery attached to my visit; I’m here to meet someone.’

‘Ah-hah.’ Stephen pounced interestedly. ‘Is she a crème caramel or an ice-cream sundae?’

‘You’re really getting into this, aren’t you, darling?’ Alison said indulgently.

‘Definitely the latter,’ Jarrett answered with a meaningful look. ‘And it isn’t what you’re thinking at all, Stephen. This meeting is strictly business.’

‘But does the lady in question know that?’ his friend asked.

‘The “lady” isn’t even aware we’re going to meet,’ Jarrett drawled.

‘This gets more and more intriguing.’ Alison sat forward. ‘Who is she?’

‘You’re in trouble now, Jarrett,’ Stephen warned. ‘Alison won’t give up until she knows the whole story!’

‘There is no story,’ Jarrett assured them dryly. ‘I told you, I’ve never met the woman. All I know is that my sources tell me she’s as cold as that ice-cream sundae you mentioned, Stephen,’ he added hardly.

‘Was that a deliberate pun, or purely coincidence?’ Stephen grinned. ‘Sauces. Ice cream,’ he explained pointedly.

Jarrett raised dark brows mockingly. ‘I think married life is clearly affecting your brain, Stephen—or else it’s all this snow,’ he amended with an apologetic glance in Abbie’s direction for his lapse into cynicism. ‘You know damn well what I meant just now about sources!’ he bit out impatiently. ‘I’ve been hunting down a meeting with this woman for months—’

‘That has to be a first!’ Stephen taunted, tongue-in-cheek.

Jarrett shook his head, his expression pained. ‘I’d forgotten just how damned annoying you could be!’ He shook his head.

‘Oh, he can be much more annoying than this,’ Alison assured him guilelessly.

Jarrett shot her an impatient look too, turning to Abbie. ‘Do you suppose it’s catching?’ he muttered irritably.

‘Probably,’ she returned, enjoying his discomfort, but also intrigued by the conversation, in spite of herself. ‘But don’t get too worried; you haven’t been around them long enough for the effect to be lasting!’

He raised those golden eyes heavenwards. ‘Let’s hope you haven’t either!’

‘You don’t get out of this that easily, Jarrett,’ Alison went on. ‘We all want to know exactly who this elusive woman is, and why you want to meet her.’

Alison was taking this joke a little too far, Abbie thought as she picked up her wine glass and took a sip, although she did have a problem herself imagining any woman piquing this man’s interest enough for him to continue the pursuit for months; after all, desserts were perishable, they all had a sell-by date—even ice cream!

Perhaps it was catching, after all...!

Jarrett relaxed back in his chair. ‘Her name is Sabina Sutherland,’ he announced. ‘She’s Daniel Sutherland’s widow. And I have it on good authority that she’s here skiing with her daughter—What the hell...?’ He gasped as Abbie choked on the wine she had been drinking, leaning forward to tap her gently on the back. ‘Come on, Abbie,’ he chided as she mopped at the tears on her cheeks with a tissue hastily supplied by Alison. ‘I wasn’t suggesting doing anything indecent with either the mother or the daughter!’

Even if he had been, he would be out of luck—because she was Sabina Sutherland, and her daughter, Charlie, was only four years old!

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