To Woo A Wife

  To Woo A Wife

  Carole Mortimer

  "I kissed you. And you liked it!"

  She took a sharp intake of breath, swallowing hard. He was right; she had liked it...

  "I think your ego may be getting in the way again, Jarrett," Abbie told him. "You just can't seem to accept that every female you meet isn't going to fall willingly into your arms! I'll admit I was curious for a while, but—despite what you may have thought— my husband was a more-than-capable lover. He knew exactly how to please a woman." Her gaze was coolly steady on Jarrett's now angry face. "No other man could ever take his place in my life."

  "I don't want to take his place!" Jarrett visibly recoiled. "You already know my views on marriage—"

  "And you already know mine on affairs...."

  Jarrett, Jonathan and Jordan are

  BACHELOR BROTHERS

  Some men are meant to marry!

  Meet three brothers: Jarrett is the eldest—Hunter by name, hunter by nature. Jonathan's in the middle and a real charmer; there's never been a woman whom he wanted and couldn't have.

  Jordan is the youngest and he's devilishly attractive. But he's determined never to succumb to emotional commitment.

  These bachelor brothers appear to have it all—looks, wealth, power.... But what about love? That's where Abbie, Gaye and Stazy come in.

  As Jarrett, Jonathan' and Jordan are about to discover—wanting a woman is one thing, winning her heart is quite another....

  Look out for Jonathan's story next month!

  CHAPTER ONE

  'It isn't that I don't appreciate the suggestion that I join you all for dinner, Stephen,' the man drawled in a bored voice. 'It's just that making up a foursome isn't some­thing I've made a habit of; I've inevitably found that any woman deliberately out on her own for the evening is either on the hunt for a rich man—or, even worse, she's a paper-bag job!'

  The woman dismissed as either 'on the hunt for a rich man—or even worse...a paper-bag job' had entered the hotel lounge and bar seconds ago, and had been in the process of locating her hosts for the evening—her friend Alison and her new husband Stephen—when she had unwittingly overheard the man's insulting remark.

  She had found Alison and Stephen—and they weren't alone. Not that Abbie could actually see them, or they her, hidden behind the huge plant that stood majestically in the plush room. And, in view of what the man had just said, perhaps it was as well!

  'I think that's a bit strong, Jarrett,' Alison protested indignantly. "These days, women can go anywhere, and do anything they want to do. And we don't need a man to do it with!'

  Well, at least Abbie knew his name now. Jarrett... It meant nothing to her.

  'Do these "go-anywhere" women get married?' the man called Jarrett taunted pointedly.

  "They have the right to choose that option if they wish to—as I did,' Alison returned heatedly. 'I'm just pointing out that we don't need a man for our very existence, as our grandmothers did, and possibly our mothers too. We have careers now, earn our own money, and there­fore marriage isn't the necessity it once was—'

  Stephen's husky laugh interrupted her. 'I have a feel­ing you're being deliberately wound up, my love.'

  The other man laughed too. 'Guilty, I'm afraid. I'm sorry, Alison, it really isn't fair of me when you're still on your honeymoon. I think it's great that the two of you decided to get married. I'm only sorry I missed the wedding. I find it incredible that I've bumped into the two of you like this. I had no idea you were coming to Canada skiing.'

  Abbie had missed the wedding too, which was why, after numerous protests that she hadn't wanted to inter­rupt their honeymoon, she had accepted the couple's in­vitation to join them this evening. But it was obvious from this man Jarrett's comments that his meeting with the newly-weds was purely coincidental.

  If Abbie had thought it was anything else, that she was possibly being set up with this man by well-meaning friends, men she would have turned around and left the hotel without even making her presence here known, would simply have telephoned her apologies. But she didn't really think that was the case; Alison was well aware of her feelings towards relationships. They simply didn't exist as far as Abbie was concerned.

  Although she had to admit Jarrett's initial remark had stung, making her look critically at herself in one of the mirrors that lined the bar walls. As tall as a model, her legs were long and shapely; she was wearing a black sheath of a dress that moulded her figure, its length a couple of inches short of her knees. But over the stylish dress she had put on a thin silk jacket the same violet-blue colour of her eyes, its loose style detracting from the clinging material of her dress. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a neat chignon, her make-up subtly delicate.

  She tried to see herself through the man Jarrett's eyes, and decided he would think her cool and aloof, not quite a 'paper-bag job', but certainly not vibrantly beautiful either!

  'Nevertheless,' Jarrett continued lightly, 'I really do have to turn down your invitation to join you all. Your friend may not mind playing gooseberry, Alison, but I certainly do!'

  Abbie felt the heat in her cheeks at what she was sure was a rebuke aimed at her in her absence. But she had been intensely reluctant too when Alison had asked her to join herself and Stephen this evening, conscious that the couple were still on their honeymoon.

  But Alison had completely pooh-poohed the idea of Abbie intruding, reminding her she and Stephen had lived together for a year before their wedding two weeks ago, and that they certainly weren't in the first romantic flush of to­getherness!

  Abbie moved as quietly away from the trio and from behind the huge plant as she had approached them, going out to the powder-room in the lobby. Once there she removed her jacket, replenished her make-up 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, mat deep 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 reminding 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 the social part,' she warned.

  'Take a tip from me, Jarrett,' Stephen told his friend with an affected groan. 'Never marry a younger woman!'

  Abbie and Alison were both twenty-seven, whereas the two men were probably in their late thirties, though considering they looked athletically fit, their bodies lithe and firm, Stephen's last remark had to be a joke. And it was one that Abbie and Alison both responded to.

  Not so Jarrett Hunter. 'I never intend marrying at all,' he drawled arrogantly.

  Abbie looked at him with new interest; so the two of them had something in common, after all. She had no intention of ever being married, either. But she had her own reasons for that decision. She wondered what Jarrett Hunter's were...

  'Why settle for one delicious dessert?' He scornfully supplied the answer to her question, even as she thought it 'When I have a liking for so many?' he added.

  Abbie was beginning actively to dislike him—and his sweeping statements!

  'But I happen to know I like strawberry trifle best,' Stephen told the other man, with an affectionate grin at Alison's red hair.

  'Maybe you do like it best,' Jarrett Hunter accepted in a bored voice. 'But a constant diet of it could be­come—tedious.'

  'You have a sweet tooth, Mr Hunter?' Abbie put in swiftly as she saw Alison was about to explode indig­nantly at the insult he had just delivered to her two-week-old marriage with his double-edged conversation. Not surprisingly, in the circumstances!

  Jarrett looked at her with cool golden eyes. 'No more than any second person Abbie,' he returned, by looking at him that he was a virile man, that he had probably had more than his fair share of women attracted to his arrogant attractiveness. But, considering Alison and Stephen were on their honey­moon, his remark was highly inflammatory.

  'Really?' Abbie replied consideringly. 'I don't have a sweet tooth at all, so I don't have that particular prob­lem.' She drew his remarks back to her, and away from the much more volatile Alison; her friend's red hair was indicative of her fiery nature, and if Jarrett Hunter wasn't careful he was going to end up floored by Alison's heated remarks. And that would be a pity, when she and Stephen had obviously enjoyed their honeymoon so far.

  That golden gaze travelled the length of her shapely legs, over the sensuous curves of her body so lovingly outlined by the fitted black dress,
up to the beauty of her face, surrounded by a dark tumble of long hair. 'You surprise me, Abbie,' he murmured dryly.

  'Do I?' Violet-blue eyes steadily met gold.

  'Well, perhaps not,' he replied with slow deliberation. 'I've always thought that chocolate eclairs look appetis­ing, until you bite into them and find there's no sub­stance.' He gave a grimace, his gaze still holding hers.

  Abbie could feel the angry colour rising in her cheeks even as she heard Alison gasp at the force of his remark. He was being deliberately insulting. But then, so was she. In fact, she had probably goaded him into this exchange, still stung by those earlier comments of his that she'd overheard.

  'Thank goodness I save myself the disappointment,' she dismissed lightly. 'Dinner, people,' she announced pointedly.

  'Jarrett?' Stephen prompted, grinning as he had en­joyed the exchange.

  That golden gaze once more ran the length of Abbie's slenderly alluring body, pausing briefly on the curve of her hips and breasts,