The Pleasures of Winter Read Free

the right woman?’
    She knew he wasn’t married. Jack had a reputation for womanizing and now she could add being irritating and chauvinistic to his list of attributes.
    Jack considered her question. ‘I’ve never been married and never intend to be. As for the right woman, I don’t believe there is such a thing. Only the one who is right for now.’
    ‘And there have been a hell of a lot of those,’ Kevin said as he got out of his seat and walked up the cabin again.
    Abbie didn’t know what possessed her to ask the question. ‘How many?’
    One dark brow crooked in surprise. ‘It’s my turn to ask a question, and as we’re getting up close and personal –’ He leaned in closer.
    Abbie couldn’t help swallowing as she looked at his mouth.
    ‘When was the last time that you made love?’
    She flushed scarlet. It was weeks, maybe months; she couldn’t remember, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.
    ‘That’s a very personal question.’
    ‘That’s not an answer.’
    Kevin returned with more iced tea. Jack took the bottle from him without taking his eyes off her. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so utterly exposed, but then she had never had a man like Jack Winter look at her so intently. He popped the cap while she played with her recorder and tried to ignore the question, but it seemed he wasn’t going to let her get away with that.
    ‘Well?’ he said.
    ‘It’s none of your business,’ she said through gritted teeth.
    ‘In that case, the interview is over.’ He stuck the bottle into the holder, pushed his seat all the way back, settled himself and closed his eyes.
    Jack had watched Abbie blush like a virgin with a mixture of amusement and fascination and wondered how far he could push her. As he lay back, he ignored her outraged gulp and waited to see how long it would take before she cracked and told him what he wanted to know.
    And he did want to know, he was surprised to find. Abbie Marshall wasn’t his usual type, but there was something about her …
    Even with his eyes closed, Jack had no problem picturing the shape of her face with its baby-soft skin and dusting of freckles. The women he normally dated wouldn’tbe seen dead with freckles, they’d have had them peeled and sandpapered away. Her mouth was wide and inviting with the perfectly even teeth of someone who had spent years in braces.
    Her short hair framed her face, highlighting her eyes. He allowed himself a brief fantasy of running his fingers through that shiny dark hair, secure in the knowledge that he wouldn’t be fighting half a pound of extensions and hair product. ‘Don’t touch the hair’ was a mantra with his dates.
    And those eyes: wide, green and sparkling with curiosity and intelligence. Oh yes, this was a woman who could stand up to him if necessary. He enjoyed the snap of animosity between them and if things had been different, would have enjoyed taking things further.
    But she was a journalist. That was bad enough, even without the cut-glass accent which he recognized as Old Money. He was never getting involved with a woman like that again. He’d learned his lesson the hard way.
    He heard her inhale.
    ‘Mr –’
    He opened one eye at her, shook his head and closed it again. Ms Marshall would learn that if she wanted to interview him, she had to play by his rules and answer his questions. His interest in her answer was beside the point.
    She huffed and he couldn’t resist a grin. She must have seen it because she huffed louder, but she refused to speak.
    Gradually, the previous thirty-six hours caught up with him and despite the drone of the engine, he dozed.
    The irregular splutter of the engines roused him. He opened his eyes and checked the cabin. Nothing lookedout of place. Kev and Zeke had their heads together over an iPad and Abbie was curled up in her seat, her legs tucked under her in a way that his would never fit. When he glanced out the window, the engines looked as normal. But