To Woo A Wife

by Carole Mortimer

  '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 reason 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 Setherlands 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 tamed 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 Eke 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, woul
d 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. ‘Everyttang okay?' he prompted worriedly as Abbie flood in the doorway staring at him.

  'Fine,' she replied. 'Charlie?'

  He gave an affectionate smile as he stood up. 'Asleep and 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 earner, 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 town 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 hew 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.

  Abbie bent down and kissed her daughter on the fore­head, lovingly smoothing back the feathered fringe of dark hair. Charlie meant everything to her, and the time was fast approaching when her young daughter would have to start school. The two of them were inseparable, and it was going to be a wrench for both of them when Charlie was at school for five days of the week.

  Abbie gave a resigned sigh, giving one last wistful look at her daughter before leaving the room. For Charlie's sake she had to be positive about the prospect of going to school, but for her own she never wanted September to arrive!

  Ten minutes later, her make-up removed, her hair slightly damp from her shower, Abbie sat up in bed with the file Tony had given her earlier. And Jarrett Hunter, the subject of the file, believed she was awake in bed somewhere doing something much more strenuous than reading! And getting paid for it. What an amazing cynic he was, to have come to such a conclusion about her, on so little evidence.

  Ten minutes later, when she had finished reading what information Tony had been able to get on Jarrett at such short notice, Abbie still thought the word 'amazing' ap­plied to him. Jarrett Hunter was an oldest son; his par­ents' marriage had been stormy by the look of it, and when his father had gone bankrupt at forty his wife had walked out on him and their three sons, leaving her hus­band to pick up the pieces of his shattered business as well as his private life, and to bring up the boys as best he could.

  Luckily Jarrett had just completed his A levels at a private school, but his two younger brothers, aged six­teen and fourteen, had had to be placed in state school to finish their education. Jarrett had chosen not to take up the place he had easily obtained at a university, but instead had gone out to work so that he could contribute to the family coffers.

  It was here his history became a bit hazy, until he'd emerged onto the business scene about eight years later as the owner of hotels an
d leisure complexes all over England, at which time he had drifted his interest to Australia, opening up similar businesses there.

  Tony was right—the file wasn't complete; the five ears since Jarrett Hunter's return to England weren't jet accounted for. And they were the key to why he ranted to see Sabina Sutherland, Abbie was sure. Although his interest in hotels gave her some idea of what his mission might be...

  She closed the file, resting her head back against the pillow. What an amazing history the man had. He had built up a multi-million-pound empire from virtually nothing, both his brothers now working with him, his father having retired and now living in Australia with his second wife—this marriage, it seemed, much happier than the first.

  Abbie now had the answer as to why Jarrett Hunter had such contempt for women, and a complete aversion d marriage. With a mother like his, it wasn't surprising e didn't trust or like women very much!

  But still Abbie was curious about those five years since Jarrett moved back to England...