One-Click Buy: November Harlequin Presents (116 page)

Cryssie raised her own glass and took two or three large gulps of the pale liquid, enjoying the feel of the bubbles in her mouth and throat, hardly able to believe that it was only a week ago that they'd been sitting together at another table—though not in quite so imposing surroundings!

She felt the expensive alcohol hit her stomach almost immediately, but it had the effect of relaxing her, and she put her glass down and looked around admiringly at the white-clothed tables, the discreet lighting, the valuable paintings on the walls, the luxurious drapes at the long windows.

‘Who were you
really
going to bring here tonight?' she asked, feeling her guard slipping and not caring. Well, it was
obvious!
He'd been stood up—though she couldn't imagine who would
dare
—and had decided on the spur of the moment to make use of the table he'd booked, and grill her about his new staff.

He answered without hesitation. ‘I hadn't intended bringing anyone,' he said, his lip curling dismissively. ‘I have a table more or less permanently booked here—because I have a financial stake in the place. One of the perks of investing wisely,' he added, not at all perturbed at her very personal question.

‘Oh,' Cryssie said, rather childishly, hastily drinking some more of the wine. So Jed Hunter owned—or part-owned—this as well. He was Mr Big, all right!

He'd hardly touched his drink, while her own glass was almost empty. He leaned across and refilled it for her, before taking up his large leather-bound menu and studying it for a few moments.

‘I'm going to have the lobster, followed by pigeon,' he said matter-of-factly, as if he was describing sausage and mash!

Cryssie said faintly, ‘Yes, that sounds…good. I'll have the same.'

The fact was, she'd never seen such a selection of food in her whole life, and it would have taken all the evening for her to make up her mind. But what was good enough for him was good enough for her!

He gave their order to the hovering waiter, and watched her silently while she sipped at her champagne. She'd stayed true to type, he mused, and had responded in exactly the way he would have expected. He had not fazed her in the slightest. She was still in total control of herself, yet there was that air of naïvety that made him feel protective of her! Heaven alone knew where she'd got that dress from—though the colour suited her well enough. Her hair was drawn primly back, as usual, shining with obvious health and fresh shampooing, and not a hint of make up had been applied to her face. Nor was a single item of jewellery anywhere to be seen. He took in all these details with a certain sense of satisfaction. It was as if she'd almost gone out of her way not to impress him, he thought. A most unusual and refreshing female—and a type he hadn't met before!

As the evening went on she proved to be an engaging conversationalist, answering his questions about Hydebound and its staff without any apparent evasiveness, and with extremely loyal and affectionate remarks about the previous owners. There was certainly no gossip or snippets of scandal which he might have been interested in. She was obviously a very worthy member of staff, he decided—someone who could prove useful to him in the future. His eyes narrowed briefly. He could spot a bargain a mile off.

‘Why are you called Cryssie?' he asked suddenly, as they started helping themselves to the delicately presented food which had appeared. ‘Is it Christine? Christina?'

Cryssie sighed as she looked down at her plate. ‘I hate having to own up to my name,' she said resignedly. ‘It's…Crystal.'

‘So what's wrong with Crystal?' he asked mildly. ‘I like it. It's…unusual.'

‘Well, that's all right, then,' she replied tartly. ‘But I
don't
like it. It's a silly name. How many people have you met called Crystal?'

‘Not many. Not
any.
But I still like it.'

‘Well, I'm not called Crystal. I'm called Cryssie.'

‘Okay, Cryssie. I'll try to remember.'

She looked across at him, at his teasing, dangerous eyes. ‘I shall have it changed properly one day,' she said, stabbing a spear of asparagus with her fork. ‘I
will
.'

‘I'm quite sure you will…Cryssie,' he said. ‘I can't think that many of your plans come unstuck.' He paused. ‘Do you have a grand life plan? I mean, you won't be wanting to stay with Hydebound for ever, I suppose?'

His question took Cryssie by surprise, and she shot him an anxious glance. The last thing she wanted was to be chucked out—or given the option to leave. She'd better watch what she was saying. Was this a veiled reference that he might not
want
her to stay? She shuddered briefly, trying to mix the unexpected—undeniable—pleasure of this evening with the upsetting news of the day.

‘You said you're not married?' he persisted.

Before he could say anything more, she blurted out, ‘No, I'm not married, and I don't ever intend to be! I have Milo to consider, as well as my sister, who is ill most of the time. They both depend on me, and on what I earn. And I'm paid enough—and happy—at Hydebound. So I don't intend any immediate changes unless they're intended
for
me,' she added significantly, her heart missing a beat at hearing herself say those words. ‘As for a “life plan”, as you call it—well, the only one is for Milo, and his happiness.'

He regarded her coolly for a moment. ‘Milo is lucky to have such a loving auntie,' he said quietly, catching her on the wrong foot. Well, he was good at that!

Cryssie looked away, biting her lip. ‘I…I didn't say that Milo wasn't my son,' she said.

‘No, you didn't. But I was studying the staff files this afternoon,' he said casually, ‘and I saw that you live with your sister and her son. That's why I felt able to drag you away from the family nest on New Year's Eve.' He paused. ‘Why? Is it a secret?'

‘No, of course not,' Cryssie said hurriedly, realising that of course he would naturally have been checking all the files. Could find out whatever he wanted. ‘The fact is…I actually look on Milo as my own son, and he's as
good
as my own son, because I shall never have any of my own and I don't want any. Not while I've got him. He loves me and I adore him, while Polly—my sister—really only lives for herself. And it's not her fault, because she's been ill since Milo was born and I don't think it's going to get any better. If anything should…happen…to her, I'd adopt Milo at once. So, since you ask,
that's
my life plan,' she added.

Her own words suddenly made hot tears spring to Cryssie's eyes. Of course she would love to have children of her own one day, who would grow up alongside her little nephew. But the bitterness of her past had tainted such plans for ever, had killed any trust in the honey-tongued male sex. She had believed every false word whispered to her during her six-month affair with the head of department in her very first job—a job she'd walked away from as soon as she'd realised the mess her life was becoming. And when she'd been offered employment by the elderly, kindly Lewis brothers she'd made another unconscious decision as well. That never again would she fall for the charms of a predatory and handsome employer who would use her not only in a business sense but in every other personal and emotional way too.

Jed observed her closely as she spoke, noting her misting eyes and the brief tremble of her lower lip. This woman was obviously intelligent, thoughtful…But there was an elusiveness about her which he found curiously heart-warming. She was clearly able to take care of herself, yet there was a simplicity about her that he found rather charming…and surprisingly sensually stimulating. Well, it was New Year's Eve—which might explain the sudden stirring in his loins!

‘Your life plan sounds a very open-and-shut case for a young woman of your age,' he remarked casually. ‘What do you have against the marriage contract?'

‘Nothing,' Cryssie replied shortly. ‘Just the long and winding road to reach that point. Never worth the trouble. Better to avoid it altogether.'

‘So…You're happy to make do with second best?'

‘What do you mean by that?' Cryssie said quickly.

‘Merely that all your maternal instincts seem directed towards someone else's child. Bit of a waste, really. And no child needs two mothers.'

‘You can look at it whichever way you like,' Cryssie said tightly. ‘I'm completely happy with the decisions I've made.'

He picked up his glass and looked at the barely drunk champagne. He'd heard about
her
life plan—but as for his own? Well, they certainly had one big thing in common, he and his dinner companion. No wedding bells! At least not until his pride had recovered from the mega-bashing it had experienced. His main preoccupation was the continuation of the family empire. He'd managed to convince his parents that he could actually be trusted to take up the reins, allowing them more time for themselves at last, and he was enjoying the challenges of each day, plus the undoubted satisfaction of being in almost total control of a successful and respected business where his word was law.

I
T WAS
almost midnight, and the atmosphere in the crowded restaurant was heady and expectant. After the meal was over, a young up-and-coming group had entertained the gathering with popular numbers, and one or two couples had attempted to dance in the rather restricted space. During a lull, Cryssie had noticed that the manager had come up to Jed and murmured something in his ear, then moved away to speak to one or two other couples.

It was so warm and comfortable sitting here, Cryssie thought contentedly. Wining and dining had a lot going for it! She could get used to this sort of life! She watched the manager moving between the tables, and saw people glancing at their watches. Of course—the traditional countdown would soon begin. She supposed they'd all have to hold hands and sing ‘Auld Lang Syne'! How embarrassing would that be? A horrible thought suddenly struck her, and she glanced at Jed, who must have been watching her, because their eyes met almost immediately. She swallowed, offering him a faint smile. What if everyone started kissing each other as they watched the widescreen television, switched on in one corner of the room, and listened to Big Ben strike at midnight? Wasn't it sort of
expected
on this occasion? Oh, no, please not that! she thought wildly. She would crawl under the table and die if she had to come into that close contact with her boss! But how could she act Miss Prim and Proper? It would look out of place, and very humiliating for Jed, if she cold-shouldered him and stood there like a lemon while everyone else in the room was slobbering over each other! This was one of those moments she was definitely not up to!

But she needn't have worried—Mr Know-it-all was equal to the situation, and when midnight finally arrived, and everyone jumped to their feet and cheered, and started singing the ancient song, Jed was immediately by her side, raising his glass in a toast.

‘Happy New Year, Cryssie,' he said, above the noise. ‘Let it be a good one for all of us.'

And that was it. The moment had passed, and she hadn't had to do anything! Jed was back in his place, smiling darkly across at her with that infuriatingly superior expression on his face which spoke volumes—and which implied that he knew exactly what
she'd
been thinking!

Why
had she allowed herself to get in such a sweat? she thought crossly. Anyone would think she was eighteen again! Her hand trembled slightly as she sipped her drink. Would it have been so awful to perhaps feel Jed's warm hands at the nape of her neck, pulling her towards him? To feel his lips touch hers, if only for a moment? Or to sense his heart beating against her chest for a fraction of a second? She checked her thoughts abruptly. What on earth was the matter with her—was she
drunk?
Yes, that must be it! These sort of imaginings were not part of the deal between her and Jeremy Hunter. So why, then, was she feeling so…let down, so left out, so…
undesired?
Go on, admit it, she told herself fiercely. Why was she feeling so damned
disappointed?

It was getting on for 1:00 a.m. when the manager used the loud speaker system to address the still almost full gathering; only a few couples having already left.

‘Ladies and gents…guys…' he began, as someone raised a drunken cheer. ‘I have been passing the word around, but as it's nearly time to call it a day I should warn you that it's not getting any better outside, and some of you are going to have difficulty getting home tonight.'

Mild consternation greeted his words, and people began to stand up. Cryssie frowned as she looked across at Jed.

‘What's going on? What is it?' she asked.

‘Oh—just that it's been snowing on and off for most of the evening, that's all,' he said casually. ‘But as there's nothing anyone can do about that I wasn't going to spoil the occasion by bothering you with the information.'

Snow! That was news to her! But she realised she hadn't heard any weather forecasts over the last day or so. ‘What did he mean that we'd have difficulty getting home?' she asked childishly. ‘Your car is well equipped to deal with changes in the weather, isn't it?'

She wished that she didn't feel so unlike herself as she spoke…so strange…But then, was that a surprise? She'd never drunk champagne before in her life, and her usual wisdom and common sense seemed to have deserted her in allowing Jed to refill her glass all the evening. Neither had she ever spent this most poignant night of the year with such a handsome member of the opposite sex! It was certainly the funniest business meeting
she'd
ever attended!

She tried to get to her feet, then sat down again hurriedly.

He picked up a large jug of water and poured some into a glass. ‘Here—dilute the alcohol a bit,' he ordered. ‘I'll go outside and take a look.' He held her anxious gaze for a second, a rush of something he couldn't explain sweeping over him. ‘Don't worry—
Crystal
,' he said evenly, and his use of her name made her glower. ‘It'll be okay.'

It had
better
be okay, she thought, as she sipped at the water. But of course it would…Even the weather wouldn't dare interfere with Mr Jeremy Hunter's plans! He'll get it sorted, she reassured herself. And anyway, the Laurels wasn't
that
far away from home…only about five or six miles, if she'd judged the distance right. Home! Why wasn't she there now, safely tucked up in bed?

There was a general hubbub in the room as everyone made plans to leave, and presently Jed returned to the table, an unusually rueful expression on his face.

‘You've been ages,' Cryssie said, looking up at him. ‘What have you been doing—building a snowman?'

‘No, nor taking part in any snowball fights either,' he replied pleasantly. ‘I've been checking with the police about the prospect of our journey home. This blizzard—or rather, the intensity of it—was totally unexpected. A few showers were anticipated, that's all, with more to follow mid-week. But nothing like this. And it's still coming down—you can hardly see your hand in front of your face. Several of the higher roads are already impassable, and the ploughs won't be out until the morning—if then.' He ran a hand through his hair, which was wet and speckled with glistening white flakes. The unusually dishevelled look gave him an alluringly boyish appearance, Cryssie thought briefly.

She stood up, still uncertain on her feet, and he automatically cupped his hand under her elbow.

‘I should sit there for a bit,' he advised. ‘There's no rush.'

‘What do you mean there's no rush?' she demanded, her voice sounding shriller than she'd meant it to. ‘Oughtn't we to be setting off? Everyone else seems to be going,' she added, glancing around at the now practically empty room.

‘Quite a few of the guests live fairly close by, apparently, and will have no problem walking home. Some might even make it in their cars, with a bit of luck—if they haven't got that far to go. But I'm afraid those of us living in town haven't a hope in hell.'

‘Well, we shall all just have to start walking back together, then,' Cryssie said firmly. ‘There's safety in numbers, and it shouldn't take that long, should it?' She stood up, suddenly feeling alert and decisive.

‘No, Cryssie,' Jed said patiently. ‘I thought you were a bright girl. Just think of the dress you're wearing, the jacket you came in, and your…um…sandals.' He glanced down at her feet, and Cryssie winced as he itemised her rather pathetic outfit. ‘How far do you think you'd get in those?'

‘I take your point,' she said stoutly. ‘But I'll be fine—honestly,' she added. ‘If we walk briskly I'll keep warm enough, and wet feet aren't the most life-threatening things in the world, are they? I'll survive.'

Her words sounded bright enough, but she had to admit to a sinking feeling as she spoke. It would not be easy, she realised that, trudging through snowdrifts, but what other option was there? It didn't even occur to her to consider his own mode of dress—as equally unsuitable as hers for this sort of situation. The only thing on her mind was that they should depart from this place, and the sooner the better!

He put his hands on her shoulders and looked down into her upturned face, into her green eyes which were bright and alive, like those of a small animal facing a predator. ‘Cryssie—I'm sorry—but there is no way we can get home tonight. It would be madness to attempt driving—we'd probably get stuck, unable to move forward or back. And walking is
not
an option—for either of us. It's much too far. We shall just have to sit this out until the morning, when it's light and we can see more clearly what's ahead of us.' He dropped his hands to his sides and shrugged. ‘I'm sorry. I—no one—had any idea that this would happen. It's just one of those things.'

Cryssie stared at him blankly for a moment, her brain suddenly refusing to function. ‘So what are we going to do, then? Stay
here
all night?' she demanded. ‘We can't do that—I
must
get home. They'll wonder what's happened—Polly will be frantic!' Well, when she eventually wakes up, Cryssie thought briefly. Her sister was not an early riser, and hadn't managed to get Milo his breakfast for years.

‘Well, I'm sure your sister will put two and two together,' Jed said dryly. ‘Ring her now, leave a message on the answer-machine, or send her a text explaining the situation so that she knows when she wakes up. Really, Cryssie, don't look so…dramatic,' he added, noting her desperate expression. ‘This is not the beginning of the end of the world.'

Cryssie plonked herself down on her chair. How on earth was she going to sit here all night making small talk with Jed Hunter? She was suddenly dead tired, and, sighing deeply, she raised her eyes to his.

‘Well, it's a good thing it's Bank Holiday tomorrow—or should I say today?' she said. ‘Because I'm fit for nothing if I don't get my sleep. I'm afraid you wouldn't have your money's worth out of me if we had to go to work in the morning.'

‘Oh, I'll make sure you get your sleep,' he assured her. ‘Even if it is to be a short night.'

‘And how exactly are you going to do
that?
' she retorted, feeling alarmed and distinctly rattled at the way things were turning out. ‘I can't sleep sitting up…'

‘You won't have to,' he said briefly. ‘They're letting me have one of their rooms.'

‘Uh? What do you mean?' she asked stupidly. ‘This is not a hotel—it's a restaurant.'

‘It's a hotel-restaurant—with a few rooms. Four, to be exact,' Jed explained patiently. ‘And we, and a few others, have been lucky enough to be allotted one. The less fortunate will be making themselves comfortable wherever they can.'

Naturally! Cryssie thought at once. He'd said he had a financial interest in the place, so they'd make sure Jed Hunter's needs were taken care of!

Just then, the manager came up to them. ‘Everything's ready for you, Mr Hunter,' the man said. ‘Room one—at the top of the staircase.' He smiled down at Cryssie. ‘These are not the usual circumstances under which we welcome our guests,' he said cheerfully, ‘but it's a very comfortable room—the best one, actually,' he added. ‘You'll find everything you need there.'

‘Thanks, Mark,' Jed said, taking Cryssie's arm firmly and pulling her to her feet. ‘We'll be fine. Thank you for accommodating us.'

Cryssie stared up at him, open-mouthed and incredulous. ‘Now, hang on a minute—' she began, but he cut in.

‘Come on…darling,' he said lightly, and there was a warning note in the word. ‘It's way past your bedtime. Goodnight, Mark—and thanks again,' he added, to the man's retreating back.

Come on
what? Who?
I'm not his darling, she thought wildly, anger beginning to take over. Did he
really
think she was going to spend the night alone with him—as if it was the most natural thing in the world? Well, it might be natural for
him
to share his bed with the female companion of the moment, but
her
life was not like that! And it never would be!

‘Now, you look
here—
' she began, trotting briskly along the carpeted hallway in an attempt to keep up with his determined stride, trying to free her arm from his strong grasp. ‘If you think for a single minute that I—'

‘Don't make a scene, Cryssie,' he said roughly. ‘I'm known in this place.'

So, whatever else happened, Mr Jeremy Hunter mustn't lose face! If she ‘made a scene', as he put it, and refused to go along with his plans, it would make him look so small, so uncool! So humiliated! That any woman wouldn't
want
to be whisked off to bed with him was unthinkable! After all, this was the twenty-first century. Who demanded single rooms in this day and age? She doubted whether there was a female in the world who wouldn't jump at the chance to be in her position!