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
