To Woo A Wife. Carole Mortimer

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