To Woo A Wife

‘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!