“I kissed you. And you liked it!” 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

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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. Alison had been at the forefront of the friends who had gently chided her during the last couple of years for playing down the looks that had once engendered the interest of some of the most powerful men in the world. To no avail.

‘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!

CHAPTER TWO

JARRETT watched with narrowed eyes as Alison and Abbie left the table, ostensibly so that Abbie could restore her make-up after her choking fit. But as far as Jarrett was concerned you couldn’t improve on perfection, and Abbie was the most beautiful woman he had seen in a decade!

He had felt as if someone had kicked him in the solar plexus when she’d walked into the bar earlier, had found himself openly staring at her as she moved gracefully across the room towards them and he had realised this was the friend of Alison’s who was joining them for dinner. Her face was absolute perfection, her skin clear and delicate, her nose beautifully sculptured; her face was dominated by eyes of violet-blue and a deeply sensual mouth, the lips full and inviting. As for her hair—! It reached almost down to her waist in a glorious cascade of midnight. And her body—

He had better stop right there, could already feel the stirring of desire in his own body just at the thought of Abbie’s!

He turned to Stephen, his mouth twisting wryly at the way the other man was watching him. ‘Stop looking so damned pleased with yourself,’ he mumbled.

Stephen openly smirked. ‘I was merely wondering what you thought of the “paper-bag job” now.’

‘Very funny!’ Jarrett didn’t appreciate being reminded of his earlier disparaging remarks. ‘Who the hell is she, Stephen?’

The two men had been friends since their schooldays, and although they often didn’t see each other for months at a time, for years on one occasion, the easy friendship continued between them.

Stephen shrugged. ‘We’ve already told you, she’s a friend of Alison’s from their modelling days together.’

Jarrett shook his head. ‘If that woman had ever graced the catwalk, then she would have taken the world by storm!’ he said with certainty. Abbie carried herself with a natural grace, would look good in anything—or nothing!

God, he was off again; he wouldn’t be able to stand up when the ladies returned to the table if this carried on! He couldn’t remember reacting this strongly physically to a woman, just on sight, since his teenage years, and that was twenty years ago.

‘But she did, Jarrett,’ his friend assured him mockingly. ‘For two years she was the most sought-after model in Europe. You probably weren’t aware of it because you were busy making your millions in Australia!’

‘The last I heard, Australia was still part of the world,’ he said dryly.

‘It’s not the location that’s relevant, Jarrett,’ Stephen said softly.

No, making his fortune had been his driving force for the last twenty years, the people he had associated with picked out for their own influences, or otherwise, in the business world he mixed in. Models—even ones as beautiful as Abbie!—hadn’t been of any interest to him whatsoever. Hadn’t been... Because he was certainly interested in Abbie now.

‘What happened to her after those two years of acclaim? ’ he probed softly, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

‘She gave up modelling,’ Stephen supplied unhelpfully.

Most unhelpfully, as far as Jarrett was concerned. He hadn’t been this interested in a woman in years, and the fact that she seemed so damned elusive—A sudden thought struck him. ‘She isn’t married, is she, Stephen?’ he grated harshly. It would be just his luck if she were; married women were definitely a no-no for him.

His own mother’s alley-cat behaviour, and the pain it had caused his father, had made him decide long ago that he would never interfere in another couple’s relationship. His parents’ turbulent marriage was also the reason he had decided he would never fall in love, never marry. If any man tried to intrude on his marriage, he knew he wouldn’t react as mildly as his father had done all those years, that he—

What the hell was he doing even thinking about marriage? It was complete anathema to him, as evidenced by his earlier conversation about desserts, and the attraction of each of them.

He recalled with pleasure how Abbie had answered all of his derisive comments with a jibe of her own. Abbie...! Damn it, he was doing it again. If only she weren’t so damned intriguing...!

‘Would it bother you if she were married?’ Stephen answered his question, his expression deliberately bland.

‘Not at all,’ Jarrett snapped, impatient with himself for dropping his guard enough to let Stephen know how interesting he found the enigmatic Abbie; he should have remembered earlier what a damned nuisance Stephen could be when he got an idea in his head. And the last thing Jarrett needed at the moment was a matchmaking Stephen! ‘Just because you’re in the throes of newly married bliss at the moment,’ he scorned, ‘doesn’t mean the rest of us have to join you!’

Stephen chuckled at Jarrett’s aggression, not fooled for a moment, turning slightly in his chair to look across the restaurant. ‘Ah, here come the ladies now,’ he said admiringly. ‘Don’t they make a striking couple? And for the record, Jarrett,’ he leant forward to murmur softly when he received no response from the other man, ‘Abbie isn’t married!’

‘I told you, it doesn’t—’ Jarrett broke off his angry retort as the women reached their table, his frown turning to a scowl as he stood up and noticed a man, seated alone a couple of tables away, who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Abbie.

Damn it, the woman drew admiring male looks like a magnet! Any man stupid enough to become involved with her would need a chain attached to her ankle to make sure she didn’t—God, he was doing it again; he had no intention of becoming involved with her, so why should he give a damn about any other idiot who did?

‘Excellent timing,’ Stephen told the two ladies as they all sat down and their first course was served to them.

Jarrett took one look across the table at Abbie, and as quickly looked away again. God, no woman should have a mouth as sensuous as hers! And the peach lipgloss she had applied to those pouting lips only made him want, to kiss her all the more.

And he did want to kiss her!

In fact, he wanted to do a lot more than kiss her...! Thank goodness he had been able to hold the white linen napkin in front of him when he stood up while the two women resumed their seats, otherwise the whole restaurant would have been aware of the complete betrayal of his body. He was behaving like a schoolboy with his first crush, damn it!

The man seated two tables away, although giving the impression of eating his own meal, was still watching Abbie, surreptitiously. And Jarrett, again like a schoolboy, he acknowledged angrily, wanted to punch him on the nose for just daring to look at her!

‘Are the ribs not to your liking, Jarrett?’

He looked at Abbie with completely blank eyes; even the husky tone to her voice was faintly erotic. Damn it, no woman should be this sensually beautiful. ‘What?’ he rasped aggressively.

The slight widening of violet-blue eyes was the only visible indication she gave of recognising his manner. ‘I merely wondered if there was something wrong with your food; you don’t appear to be eating it,’ she pointed out lightly.

He looked down at the untouched starter in front of him, across at the other three half-eaten plates of food on the table, forcing himself to relax, inwardly chastising himself for his lapse. The sooner he got this meal over with, the sooner he would be able to get away. From Abbie.

‘I’m sure the ribs are going to be excellent,’ he answered. ‘After all, this is a Sutherland Hotel, isn’t it?’ he added derisively. ‘Although,’ he continued, ‘it isn’t much of a recommendation for the place when the part-owner doesn’t even stay in her own hotels!’ He bit into his food, and, as he had already surmised, the ribs were mouth-wateringly delicious.

Sutherland Hotels were known worldwide for their welcoming service and excellent restaurants; everything about this hotel spoke of its exclusivity, from the reception to the beautifully furnished suites of rooms. But the woman who dominated the boardroom, Daniel Sutherland’s widow, never stayed in them...

According to Daniel Sutherland’s daughter Cathy, the eldest of two children from his first marriage, Sabina had been the daughter of one of her father’s employees. On her marriage to Daniel Sutherland, she’d very quickly learnt the advantages of having such a wealthy husband. Since his death two years ago, she’d never demeaned herself enough to stay in one of the family hotels, always finding private accommodation close by—on a grand scale!—when she was on one of her regular visits as guardian of the major shareholder in the family business. Sabina’s young daughter Charlotte was the real Sutherland heir; Sabina was merely a caretaker until her child achieved the age of twenty-one. But until that time the woman obviously intended to milk the situation for all it was worth!

It was all too easy to see why Cathy, and her younger brother Danny, resented the hold their stepmother had on their inheritance through her own daughter’s shares in the company. Daniel Sutherland must have been totally besotted with his second wife to have left his will in the way that he had—

‘You’re talking of Sabina Sutherland?’ Abbie prompted coolly.

‘Who else?’ he scorned. ‘She’s staying in a private ski-lodge somewhere up the mountain—’

‘And how do you know that?’ She looked at him frowningly.

He shrugged. ‘I asked around.’

Violet-blue eyes widened. ‘And someone here, at the hotel, told you where she was staying?’

‘Not here, Abbie.’ He gave a smile. ‘I’m sure giving out that sort of information about their employer is more than their job is worth! No, I asked around, discreetly, in London, before coming out here to Whistler.’

He had suffered several boring evenings listening to Cathy Sutherland’s bitterness about her stepmother, withstanding her more than obvious attempts to deepen their relationship to physical intimacy, attempts he had of course deftly outmanoeuvred—he never mixed business with his private life!—before he was able to find out that the Black Widow, as Cathy called her stepmother, would be in Canada the second week of January, skiing with her daughter, Charlotte.

There was obviously little sisterly love between Cathy and Charlotte either, Cathy referring to her half-sibling as ‘the brat’. There had to be an age gap between the two sisters, and at thirty Cathy was already starting to lose her bloom, her blonde beauty, after years of grievance, taking on a certain hardness that was far from attractive, so the existence of a young and probably pretty half-sister wouldn’t go down too well with someone like her. Besides which, having grown up in the lap of luxury, with a mother who was patently money-grasping herself, Charlotte Sutherland was probably a brat!

‘You’ve done your research on this woman, then, Jarrett?’ Alison prompted curiously.

He shrugged. ‘I’m only interested in her business life, not her personal one.’ Although Cathy would have been only too happy to go on for hours about the woman her father had married after the death of her own mother twenty years ago, if he’d let her! But as far as Jarrett was concerned it was just another example of why marriage wasn’t for him. He could imagine nothing worse than being married for his money. By all accounts, Daniel Sutherland had been an intelligent man, and he had still been fooled. For some years, it seemed.

‘You still haven’t told us what business you have with her?’ Abbie said casually.

He shook his head, leaning back in his chair, his expression closed. ‘I think I’ve said altogether too much on the subject already,’ he said firmly. ‘It must have been the champagne we drank earlier to toast your marriage.’ He addressed the other couple.

‘Talking of which...” Stephen signalled the waiter, requesting another bottle of champagne for the four of them.

Which gave Jarrett the few minutes’ respite he needed to gather his scattered wits together. He had said enough already, revealed more than necessary of himself and his reasons for being here in Canada. For a man who was usually private to the point of rudeness—even Cathy Sutherland, so free with the information about the stepmother she detested, hadn’t known why he was so interested in her!—he felt uncomfortable with the knowledge that he had been provoked into revealing that much to the three people present.

It was Abbie’s fault, of course. While giving every appearance of being open and beautiful, she had nevertheless managed not to reveal a single fact about herself, but had goaded Jarrett, he now realised, into talking about himself in an effort to get her to open up about herself.

He tried to think what he did know about her. She had once been a model—years ago, if they coincided with the period he had spent in Australia. She travelled a great deal, and not through choice, if her dislike of it was to be believed. If she didn’t like it so much, then why do it at all? She—

He was becoming obsessed with the woman, he realised angrily. And for a man who, at best, viewed women with teasing affection, and at worst with cold disdain, it wasn’t a feeling he was particularly comfortable with!

‘I think you have an admirer, Abbie.’ He dryly changed the subject.

She arched dark brows in cool dismissal. ‘But we hardly know each other, Jarrett,’ she returned just as dryly.

Golden eyes narrowed on the ivory perfection of her face; was she mocking him? ‘I wasn’t referring to myself,’ he bit back, aware that he sounded rude and disdainful.

She frowned as his meaning became clear to her, looking about them with apprehensive eyes.

And, as she did so, it suddenly hit Jarrett that this woman was running away from something. Or someone...

At the same time as he realised this, Jarrett felt a previously unknown protectiveness. Towards Abbie. A woman, as she had already said, that he hardly knew! But despite her previous cool assurance there was a vulnerability about her at this moment, an air of uncertainty as she worriedly searched the faces of the other diners in the restaurant.

Jarrett sat forward, his face on a level with Abbie’s. ‘He’s seated two tables away, to the left,’ he told her quietly. ‘And he doesn’t seem able to take his eyes off you. Not that I can altogether blame him,’ he added. ‘It can’t be every day that you see Cleopatra and Delilah all wrapped up in one deliciously feminine bundle!’

Abbie had located her admirer now, dismissing the young blond Adonis with one sweep of that violet-blue gaze.

God, she was a cool one, Jarrett acknowledged admiringly. The man who was watching her so intently had the sort of film-star good looks most women would drool over, and yet Abbie showed no feminine interest in him whatsoever, totally controlled again as her attention returned to their table, their main course now being served to them.

Stephen came into their conversation. ‘Cleopatra and Delilah were both scheming women...’

Jarrett grinned. ‘But beautiful, if history is to be believed—very beautiful.’

‘If you’ll all excuse me for a few minutes.’ Abbie spoke distractedly, seemingly unconcerned at the barb in Jarrett’s remark. ‘I have to go and make a telephone cali.’ She stood up as she excused herself, picking up her small clutch-bag, to walk across the restaurant and out into the lobby beyond, where public telephones were situated.

‘Was it something I said...?’ Jarrett asked his two remaining dinner companions.

‘I doubt it,’ Stephen replied. ‘Abbie probably does just have to make a telephone call.’

Maybe she did, Jarrett inwardly acknowledged, but the man who had been seated two tables away, the man who had been watching her so avidly through the meal, had obviously seen her departure as an opportunity to actually speak to her, getting up himself and following her from the room!

Jarrett’s eyes became golden slits as he watched the other man, whose hurried departure, so soon after Abbie’s, his meal half-eaten, couldn’t just be a coincidence. Despite Abbie’s air of cool assurance, there was also that vulnerability Jarrett had recognised in her earlier, and the delicacy of her tall, willowy body. The man who had followed her, so opportunely, was very tall and muscular, looked as if he worked out just for the hell of it!

He put his own snowy white linen napkin down on the table beside Abbie’s. ‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ he muttered, eyes narrowed purposefully as he strode out of the restaurant, uncaring of what Stephen and Alison thought of his departure.

It didn’t take him long to locate Abbie. Or the blond Adonis.

They were standing together across the lobby, nowhere near the public telephone booths, which were on the other side of the wide marbled hall. And even as Jarrett went to march across it and put a stop to the blond man’s intrusion Abbie reached up and put her hand on her companion’s arm in a gesture of familiarity, her smile warm and relaxed as she looked up into that handsome face.

Jarrett came to an abrupt halt, a knot tightening in his stomach while he watched the continuing conversation between the couple. Although she had given no indication of it earlier when he’d pointed the other man out to her, Abbie knew that blond giant! There was a familiarity between them that spoke of an intimacy of long standing; Abbie was looking quite animated now.

Jarrett felt a wave of temper sweep through him at the way Abbie was behaving with the other man. The two had behaved like strangers in the restaurant, no sign of familiarity between them, despite the fact that the man hadn’t seemed able to take his eyes off Abbie. What the hell was going on?

Whatever it was, Jarrett didn’t intend being caught standing here staring at the two of them like a gawking schoolboy!

Yet as their conversation continued he found he couldn’t move away. The two of them were very animated now, the man talking softly, but obviously slightly aggressively, while Abbie slowly shook her head in disagreement with what he was saying. The man broke off abruptly, and Abbie spoke to him now, that hand reassuringly on his arm once again. The man seemed to sigh his capitulation at what was being said, murmuring some sort of agreement, and Abbie nodded, a smile hovering about her sensuous lips.

The woman wasn’t just a mystery, she was an enigma, and Jarrett had too much else on his mind at the moment to try to get to the bottom of it. Maybe Abbie, for all she was such an old friend of Alison’s, was actually a high-class call-girl; it would certainly fit in with her reluctance to talk about herself, and the fact that she travelled so much without really enjoying it. It would also explain the single name of Abbie...

It did fit too, only too well, he slowly realised. A woman of Abbie’s undoubted beauty would be well sought after, could probably name her own price for the possession of that cool, elusive beauty, no matter how fleetingly.

Hell, he had probably spent the best part of the evening lusting after a woman who sold what he wanted from her! But he had never paid for a woman in his life—at least, not with cold, hard cash. Although expensive jewellery at the end of a brief relationship probably amounted to the same thing.

Oh, to hell with this, he inwardly cursed; if that was what she was he might as well have her himself for the night, and once he had he could get on with concentrating on the real reason he was here.

That decision made, he turned on his heel and walked back into the restaurant. Whatever arrangements Abbie was making to meet the blond Adonis later, she could damn well break. The only man she was going home with tonight was him. And it would be a night he intended them both to remember!

He watched her intently as she negotiated around the tables to where her party was seated, half expecting his desire for her to have lessened with the knowledge of what he now thought she was. But it hadn’t, the gently swaying hips, firm up-thrusting breasts, pert beneath the fitted sheath of her dress, only succeeded in evoking vivid images in his mind. Damn it, he had never wanted a woman as much as he now wanted Abbie—no matter what she was!

‘You shouldn’t have waited for me,’ she commented as she sat down, looking pointedly at Jarrett’s untouched steak.

His mouth twisted. ‘I didn’t. I’ve only just returned to the table myself,’ he added after a deliberate pause, observing her under hooded lids. And he wasn’t disappointed. She gave him a startled look, instantly wary, he realised with satisfaction.

‘Oh?’

She had to be wondering where he had been, to have just returned himself, must also be wondering if he had seen her talking to the blond Adonis. Well she could sit and wonder!

‘Successful telephone call?’ he said lightly before cutting into his perfectly cooked steak, seemingly uninterested in her answer. Because he knew she hadn’t made any telephone call!

‘Er—yes,’ she confirmed abruptly, still looking at him uncertainly.

‘Everything okay?’ Alison put in gently.

Abbie’s expression softened as she turned to her friend. ‘Everything is fine,’ she nodded warmly.

Were Alison and Stephen aware of what this woman did? Somehow he doubted it. Oh, Stephen was no angel, had been involved with lots of women before meeting Alison a few years ago, and Alison herself admitted to several relationships before Stephen. But what Abbie did was something else entirely, and certainly couldn’t be classed as relationships!

It was with a certain amount of satisfaction that Jarrett noticed the continued absence of the blond Adonis from his chair two tables away. The man, his business, he believed, successfully concluded, hadn’t even bothered to return and finish his meal. Well, he was going to regret later having missed out on his meal, and on Abbie—because Jarrett had plans of his own where she was concerned. And it was very rare for him not to get what he wanted!

The rest of the evening dragged as far as Jarrett was concerned, the exquisitely prepared food tasteless to him, his lack of contribution to the conversation drawing several veiled glances from those violet-blue eyes beneath long black lashes. Much to his satisfaction. He might as well be as much of a mystery to her as she was to him!

All the time his tension was rising, his anticipation of the night ahead making him completely introspective.

He had no idea how one went about paying a woman to go to bed with one.

But the blond Adonis had seemed to have no trouble arranging it, so neither would he!

CHAPTER THREE

ABBIE was all too aware of the brooding silence of the man sitting next to her, and of his steadily increasing tension.

But she had no logical explanation for his behaviour.

Oh, she had been a little concerned when he’d mentioned leaving the table at the same time she had, had wondered if he could have seen her out in the lobby talking to Tony. But, she had decided, even if he had witnessed that conversation, it would merely have looked as if the man who couldn’t ‘take his eyes off her’ had tried to strike up an acquaintance with her when he’d seen the opportunity of finding her on her own. And, as Tony hadn’t returned to his table, it would seem that he must have been rebuffed.

No, it couldn’t have been that which had changed Jarrett’s mood. Because it had changed. Unless his long silences were his way of sticking to his promise about keeping his cynicism to himself? She had wondered how he was going to manage that, when he obviously viewed life through such jaundiced eyes. Perhaps he had decided silence was the best course of action!

Not that she in the least minded his lack of participation in the conversation. She had been totally stunned earlier when he’d revealed that she—well, actually Sabina Sutherland—was the reason for his coming to Whistler. Although Alison had assured her, once they’d reached the powder-room, after Abbie’s choking fit, that neither she nor Stephen had been aware of Jarrett’s rea- son for being here, either. Nor did they know what business Jarrett had with Sabina Sutherland.

Jarrett was an entrepreneur—for that Abbie read opportunist! —with a finger in many pies. But as Sutherlands were also a multi-business company that told Abbie absolutely nothing. However, by the time Abbie returned to her private ski-lodge somewhere up the mountain, she should have all the information on Jarrett Hunter that she would need, in order to know whether or not she should see him as Sabina Sutherland...

She sincerely hoped the answer to that proved to be negative. Jarrett Hunter wasn’t a man she felt in the least comfortable with, and dealing with him on a business level would be like handling the unleashed tiger his eyes so reminded her of!

Eyes that watched her whenever he thought she was concentrating her interest elsewhere. And his interest was purely male, seeming to concentrate on each of her physical attributes in turn. She was sure she had been mentally stripped naked, and then reclothed, in the last hour!

‘Can I see you safely back to your suite?’ he offered smoothly later as they all left the restaurant together. ‘I’m sure Alison and Stephen are more than ready to disappear after this interruption to their honeymoon.’

Abbie delayed answering him as she smiled her thanks at the young man who had just returned her jacket and overcoat to her, the latter an expensive copy of a sable—she couldn’t stand the thought of wearing a real fur that had once covered some poor luckless animal’s body, but the icy Canadian winter called for warmth as well as comfort.

She wrapped the ankle-length coat about her before releasing her hair from the confines of its collar, turning to smile coolly at Jarrett. ‘As you can see by this coat,’ she commented, turning up the collar to keep her neck warm, ‘I’m not a guest at this hotel.’

He looked deeply irritated by this turn of events, scowling darkly. ‘Then perhaps I can see you back to the hotel you are staying at?’ he grated.

‘There’s no need,’ she dismissed, turning to hug first Alison and then Stephen. ‘It’s been lovely seeing you both. And dinner was lovely, too. I’ll return the compliment when we’re all back in London,’ she added, before at last turning back to Jarrett Hunter, holding out her hand in formal parting. ‘It was nice to meet you, Mr Hunter.’ Politeness demanded that she say at least that much!

His mouth twisted, the golden eyes full of scepticism as he took hold of the hand she held out so graciously. ‘Was it?’ he returned with dry derision, obviously not fooled by her politeness for a minute.

She gave a short nod of confirmation. ‘It’s always interesting to meet someone else from home on one’s travels, Mr Hunter,’ she returned noncommittally, pointedly removing her hand from his when he made no effort to release her.

He looked at her sharply. ‘If you miss home so much, perhaps you shouldn’t do so much—travelling.’

She met his gaze unflinchingly, not in the least sure what he meant by that remark—except that it had somehow sounded like a put-down! ‘I go where I’m needed,’ she clipped. ‘Now I really do have to go.’

‘I said I would like to see you home,’ Jarrett repeated with soft intent. ‘It’s late, and you shouldn’t go alone—’

‘But I’m not going alone, Mr Hunter, I have a car waiting for me outside,’ she said, the edge of the resistance she was feeling at his persistence creeping into her voice. For goodness’ sake, couldn’t he understand? She didn’t want his company, back to her hotel, or anywhere else for that matter!

His mouth tightened, a nerve pulsing in his jaw, his eyes suddenly pure molten gold. ‘In that case, I’ll walk you to your car.’ And without waiting for her agreement, or otherwise, he took a firm grasp of her arm, almost frogmarching her through the lobby.

Abbie turned briefly to give Alison and Stephen a last wave goodbye, Alison giving her a puzzled stare, Stephen frowning.

Which wasn’t surprising, when Jarrett was almost dragging her out of the hotel!

Abbie came to an abrupt halt on the pavement outside, her car already parked there waiting for her departure. ‘You’re behaving very—strangely, Mr Hunter,’ she snapped, releasing herself from his vice-like grip as she turned to face him.

‘I’m behaving strangely!’ he returned incredulously, eyes gleaming golden in the lamplight that shone from the front of the hotel.

Whistler was a small community that had grown into existence mainly because of the wonderful skiing conditions on Whistler Mountain, and its near neighbour, Blackcomb. The village itself had been designed more like a Swiss village, with double-storey chalet-type buildings. The hotels that thrived in the area had also been built to reflect this uniqueness, and at the moment Christmas lights still adorned trees and buildings. It was almost like a fairy-tale—and yet Abbie was starting to feel as if she was in the middle of a horror story!

‘I believe so,’ she answered slowly, watching Jarrett warily, but also aware that Tim, her dark-haired driver, was only feet away, seated behind the wheel of the car, if she should need his assistance. Which she sincerely hoped she wouldn’t. Being at the centre of a brawl, outside one of her own hotels, would not help in keeping the low-key existence she preferred to lead. ‘I have to go—’

‘You already said that,’ Jarrett rasped. ‘Several times, in fact.’ He looked past her to the parked, chauffeur-driven limousine, his expression instantly scornful. ‘He obviously has money,’ he drawled contemptuously.

Abbie frowned her bewilderment at the comment, starting to wonder if perhaps champagne didn’t agree with this man; he had seemed relatively comprehensible—too much so with regard to his opinion of women!—before he had drunk it. ‘Who does?’ she prompted dazedly.

‘The blond Adonis,’ Jarrett continued harshly. ‘Whatever he’s worth, Abbie, I’m sure I’m worth more!’

‘I’m sure you are,’ she agreed soothingly, her bewilderment deepening. What blond Adonis? ‘It’s late, Jarrett—’

‘But it’s going to get a lot later for you, isn’t it?’ he bit out accusingly, glaring down at her. ‘Why do you do it, Abbie? Don’t tell me you actually enjoy it!’ he added disgustedly.

Champagne obviously didn’t agree with him; he wasn’t making any sense at all now. She gave a barely perceptible movement to indicate Tim should come and open the car door for her now. ‘I’m sure one of us is going to be suffering with a terrible headache in the morning,’ she told Jarrett lightly. ‘And it isn’t going to be me!’ she amended before climbing thankfully into the back of the white limousine.

Jarrett stepped forward and stopped Tim closing the door behind her. ‘Are you implying I’m drunk, Abbie?’ he growled.

‘I’m implying that one of us needs to sober up—and again it isn’t me!’ She nodded to Tim to close the car door, sitting back with some relief when, with one last scathing glare, Jarrett stepped back before turning on his heel and striding back into the hotel. In the direction of the bar, no doubt!

Abbie gave a weary sigh, relaxing back against the limousine’s leather upholstery. It had been a very long evening. And it wasn’t over yet...

Lights blazed in the chalet ski-lodge she had rented for her stay at Whistler, but thankfully not at the back, where Charlie’s bedroom was; her young daughter should have been asleep hours ago.

She nodded her thanks distractedly to Tim as she got out of the car, running lightly up the steps to let herself inside the lodge, going straight through to the lounge where she knew Tony would be waiting for her.

He looked up as she came in. He was sitting at a table working on some papers he had laid out there, the flames from the log fire giving his hair the colour of rich cream. ‘Everything okay?’ he prompted worriedly as Abbie stood in the doorway staring at him.

‘Fine,’ she replied. ‘Charlie?’

He gave an affectionate smile as he stood up. ‘Asleep. But looking forward to skiing in the morning,’ he added warningly.

Abbie smiled too now. Her daughter had been able to ski almost as soon as she could walk, and it took all of Abbie’s efforts to keep up with her. But Charlie never seemed to tire of skiing, making run after run.

However, it was something else that held Abbie’s attention now. Tony was blond and athletically built... Could he be the blond Adonis Jarrett Hunter had been so scathing about? Jarrett had left the table this evening soon after she had departed to make her ‘phone call’, returning only seconds before her; could he have seen her out in the lobby talking to Tony? And if so, what conclusions had he come to after seeing the two of them together?

She tried to think back to the strange conversation she’d had with Jarrett outside the hotel, something about ‘he obviously has money’, and that he—Jarrett—was ‘worth more’, and the night was going to be ‘a lot later’ for her, and she didn’t actually enjoy it—

Good God, Jarrett Hunter thought she was a—! Abbie began to laugh. He did! Jarrett thought she had been making an assignation with Tony, an assignation for which she was going to be paid!

Tony gave her a quizzical look as she continued to laugh, totally confused as to the reason for it. And, in the circumstances, Abbie wasn’t about to explain them, either!

Tony worked for her; he was part minder—which was why he had been in the restaurant at all this evening—and part personal assistant. He had worked for her for two years now, and never, ever had he even tried to step over their employee-employer relationship and into intimacy.

Abbie had never wanted him to, either. Oh, Tony was certainly good-looking enough, and at thirty he was close to her own age of twenty-seven, but, as she had stated only too clearly earlier, she didn’t have a sweet tooth!

Her husband had died two years ago, and since that time there had been no man in her life, not even on such a casual basis as the odd dinner. And that was the way she liked it, the way it was going to remain.

Although Jarrett Hunter obviously had her marked down as something else completely...!

She sobered slowly, shaking her head as Tony still looked at her questioningly. ‘It was just something that happened earlier,’ she said as she took off her coat and threw it over the back of a chair. ‘Did you get that information I asked for?’ she asked briskly.

‘It’s here.’ He picked up the file from the top of the table which he had been working on. ‘It isn’t complete yet, but the rest should come through some time tomorrow. But what we already have makes interesting reading,’ he informed her pointedly.

She nodded, taking the file when he held it out to her. ‘I’ll take it to bed with me.’

Tony grinned. ‘I’ve always admired the way you can be up half the night working, and then still emerge the next morning looking fresh as a daisy!’

Abbie grimaced. ‘Remind me of that tomorrow night after I’ve been skiing with Charlie all day!’

She left Tony chuckling to himself as she went down the hallway to check on Charlie before going to her own bedroom.

Charlie was fast asleep in her bed, a miniature version of Abbie, her long dark hair fanned out across the pillow, her tiny face angelic in the moonlight, one of her arms wrapped about the teddy-bear she always took to bed with her—Abbie forgot to pack that teddy at her peril! It had been mislaid when they’d been unpacking after a business trip a few months ago, and Charlie had been inconsolable until it was found again.

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