Wine & Roses (7 page)

Abby’s smile faltered, uncertainty filtering through her expression. “Sure. It’s all right, I know you’ve got a lot of responsibilities.”

“Time to head back inside, I think.” A sour feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. “The committee will wonder where I am.”

Chapter Five

“So your boyfriend hasn’t shown up yet?” Marguerite glanced around as though expecting him to pop out from behind the buffet table.

“Jason’s not my boyfriend.” Abby crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “I don’t think.” She, too, couldn’t help casting her eyes about, scanning the people filtering in from the deck to the narrow salon, stopping to acquire a cocktail from the bar. As the boat’s engine rumbled louder, she felt its vibration under her feet, and realized they’d be leaving the dock any minute. She chewed absently on her fingernail, her heart making a slow descent in her chest; she’d nursed a small hope that Jason would show up after all, but that hope was swiftly fading.

“Really?” Marguerite went on. “Rumour has it the two of you were heating up the dance floor last weekend, and it wasn’t your cha-cha-ca that caused a stir.”

Abby felt her sinking heart skip a little at the memory of that evening. “Sure, but the moment I mentioned this party he froze up.”

Marguerite’s shoulders lifted dismissively, her red-painted mouth twisted into a smirk. “I suppose making out with Colin Bennett’s widow in front of your late husband’s social circle would be a satisfying coup for young Mr. Brinleigh, considering the bad blood between them.”

Irritated by the remark, Abby cut her friend a sharp glance. “Jason wouldn’t use me like that.”

“If you say so.” Her tone still skeptical, Marguerite reached over to grab a stuffed mushroom cap from the buffet table and popped it casually into her mouth.

“I think he’s a little gun-shy,” Abby added. “His ex-fiancée showed up with another man.”

Her friend regarded her with one eyebrow lifted, hurrying to swallow her mouthful before she replied. “Is he still carrying a torch?”

“He says not. But something like that can be traumatic, all the same.” Though she didn’t doubt Jason’s interest in her was genuine—well, didn’t doubt it
much
, anyhow—Abby couldn’t help but wonder whether he might harbour unresolved feelings for Brianna. She’d seen the dark look that crossed his features, and felt his shoulders tighten under her hand, when he spotted his former fiancée across the dance floor. A stunning blonde, Brianna was bright-eyed and young, probably less than thirty years old; Abby could hardly blame him for being drawn to her. But from what Jason had said, the only emotions that lingered for him were anger and hurt.

“It seems the plot thickens every time we talk. What could be next?” Marguerite cast a probing glance at Abby’s dour expression. “Abby, don’t tell me you’re falling for this guy.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” The question elicited another jump in her pulse. She paced over to the book table, where she busied herself straightening the hardcover copies of her new novel on display. “I do like him a lot, but I’m not going to fall apart because he didn’t show up at my book launch. He’s not obligated.”

“You do seem a little upset.”

“Just thinking about my speech. You know I hate making speeches. Especially in front of the press.”

In truth, Abby wasn’t thinking about her speech at all.
That
she would get through unscathed. Her feelings for Jason were another matter. The feelings growing in her heart were already alarmingly strong, just as Marguerite had predicted. There was no mistaking the warm pocket that formed behind her breastbone whenever he smiled at her, or the girlish flutter in her belly when his hand brushed hers. And there was no disregarding the dull ache of missing his presence. It was a strangely pleasant kind of ache, unfamiliar to her—something she hadn’t experienced when she was separated from Colin, even for extended periods. At the same time, the exhilaration of having found someone to care about was tempered by a sense of unease.

Abby hated feeling insecure; during her marriage she’d worked hard to hold onto her self-confidence and independence in the face of Colin’s criticism. In the year since his death, she’d found a sense of peace with herself, and contentment at being on her own. Now she found herself imagining a future involving Jason Brinleigh, and wondering just what kind of future that might be, and how long it could last. After all, he was nine years younger than Abby—and even though an age difference
shouldn’t
matter in this day and age, she knew it did.

First and foremost, she couldn’t give him a family. She didn’t even know if he wanted children, and it seemed too soon to ask; but surely it was something he’d considered already, or would very soon, as he was perfectly aware of her age. The only opinion on the matter that he’d expressed to her what that happily-ever-after was a fairy-tale notion, and she’d agreed with him. But attitudes like that could easily change, and in time he might come to want a wife and a family, and again Marguerite was right: a woman Abby’s age would not fit the bill. As much as she’d tried to erase Colin’s hurtful words from her mind, they lingered in the recesses of her memories, and she couldn’t help but fear that Jason would tire of her as her husband had.

Abby shook her head; she shouldn’t be thinking about marriage and babies when she’d only seen Jason a handful of times, and only once on an official date. But Marguerite, damn her cynicism, had made another good point: no matter how she might tell herself it was what she wanted, Abby wasn’t the type to be satisfied with a casual relationship, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before he was too deep in her heart not to break it once he was gone.

Marguerite’s hand on Abby’s arm jarred her back to her present circumstances. “You’ll be fine. It’s a great speech. You’re among friends, you know.”

Abby didn’t have time to reply before people were approaching her, reaching out to shake her hand, congratulating her and peppering her with questions—a welcome distraction from her solemn thoughts.

* * *

He was last to step aboard the boat, just before the gangway was withdrawn. As the vessel shuddered under his feet, he grasped the railing to steady himself, his stomach tightening. Jason hated boats; even a short ferry ride could leave him queasy for hours. But it was too late to disembark now.

Even that morning, he hadn’t been planning to come here. It was only at the last minute that he’d changed his mind. Buried in paperwork at the winery, he’d been unable to focus on anything but a mental image of Abby’s face, the disappointment in her eyes burned into his brain. It wasn’t as though she couldn’t get through the evening without him, but she had clearly wanted him there. Despite her misgivings about the event, it was a big deal for her, and he couldn’t bear to have her think he couldn’t be bothered to lend his support.

Jason wandered toward the salon, following several other guests as they entered through the swinging door. Inside, he encountered a crowd of people by the bar, ordering drinks and milling about to chat.

“I heard they got rather cozy at some charity event last weekend,” said the heavy-set brunette in front of him, blocking his path along with her companion.

“Hmm. I heard the same thing,” replied the companion, a tall and slender blonde whose back was to Jason.

“I hear he’s quite a dish,” the brunette remarked. “And young. Good for Abby.”

The blonde sniffed derisively. “Not so good for Abby, if you ask me.”

At the mention of Abby’s name, Jason’s head snapped up. He recognized the blonde then—it could only be Marguerite, Abby’s friend, whom he’d met at Abby’s birthday party two years ago. He hadn’t seen her since, but her thick white-gold mane was unmistakable even from the back, a jarring contrast to her darkly tanned shoulders. He turned away abruptly, pretending to study a nearby poster depicting the cover of Abby’s new novel.
Murder on the Mezzanine
was emblazoned across it in red letters, above an image of a dimly lit theatre, a pale arm draped limply over a balcony.

“What do you mean?” he heard the brunette ask.

“It just seems doomed from the start to me,” Marguerite went on tartly. “People are saying all kinds of ridiculous things, like that she has her eye on Jason’s money, because they worshipped Colin and it bugs them to see his widow carrying on with someone new and younger.”

The brunette sounded surprised. “From what Abby’s told me, Colin was a lousy excuse for a husband.”

“He was, but it would be just like him to make it look the other way around. He could be extremely charming if it suited his purpose, not to mention manipulative. You have to wonder what he was telling people about Abby.”

“Who cares what Colin’s buddies think?” intoned the brunette. “If she’s happy, let her be happy.”

“A little too happy, if you ask me. I think she’s falling hard for this guy already. She’s bound to get hurt. I’ll tell you one thing, if Jason Brinleigh breaks her heart, he’ll have
me
to answer to.”

Having heard enough, Jason shuffled his way around the two women, keeping his back to them. Tempting as it was to announce his presence, this wasn’t the time or place for a confrontation. Still, his hands balled into tight fists inside his pockets, as anger swelled through him in a blistering wave. He didn’t particularly care what Colin Bennett’s friends thought of him, but to denigrate Abby’s character was another matter. It didn’t surprise him to hear of Colin spreading lies about her; the man was poison, even to those he was supposed to love and protect. Not that Abby’s friends showed a great deal of class, expressing their ill-informed opinions on her private business during a party meant to honour her achievement.

As he emerged in the salon, Jason’s stomach churned sourly, due only in part to the jerking motion of the vessel as it pulled away from the dock.

He spotted Abby standing by a table displaying her books. She looked fresh and lovely in a casual peach peasant dress, her hair tied back loosely at her nape. Holding a cocktail, she was talking to two people, looking relaxed as she smiled and nodded.

Jason’s thoughts turned at once to Marguerite’s last remark—her theory that Abby was falling in love with him. Could she be right? It was just what he’d wanted to avoid, despite his actions to the contrary. Although the notion alarmed him, at the same time it elicited a peculiar warm glow in his chest, bringing an unbidden smile to his lips.

As the boat headed steadily along the lakefront, he kept his gaze away from the scenery moving past the windows, instead fastening his attention on Abby as he approached her. When she saw him, her expression first registered surprise, turning to relief and pleasure at his presence. But within a heartbeat, the open gladness in her face wilted, replaced by a more guarded air.

“I didn’t think you were coming.”

“I managed to move some things around and free myself up,” Jason explained, taken aback by her reaction. His refusal of her invitation must have hurt her more than he’d realized. “I read your book this week. I enjoyed it very much.”

“I guess you were able to find quite a lot of free time,” Abby remarked dryly.

“Not really, I just couldn’t put it down.” Indeed, he had read late into the night, finishing the thick volume in four days. Though he wasn’t generally a fan of murder mysteries, he found her writing rich and evocative, and the characters well rounded. Awed by her talent, he was curious to know where her ideas came from, how she formed those ideas into words, and how she formulated the twists and turns of the engrossing story. He couldn’t wait to talk to her about it.

Abby’s lips curved upward at the edges, her expression easing. “That’s the best compliment I could hope for.”

“Is this Jason?” someone asked, sidling up next to Abby. Jason realized at one that it was the heavyset brunette he’d overheard talking to Marguerite.

“It is,” Abby said brightly. “Jason, I’d like you to meet Sophia, my editor.”

Sophia beamed, her eyes crinkling with delight. “I knew it. You look just like she described. Pleased to meet you, Jason.” She thrust out her hand, shaking his briskly. Obviously she hadn’t taken notice of him by the bar.

“Likewise.” He caught a flicker of embarrassment in Abby’s face at the revelation that she’d been describing his appearance to her friends.

“You’re kidding me, Jason’s here?” Marguerite intoned, appearing on Abby’s other side. “You must have hopped on at the last minute. I’m Marguerite Dubois. We met a couple of years ago.”

“I remember.” He felt his expression stiffen, though her smile held no hint of the suspicion of him that she’d expressed to Sophia only minutes before.

“So, have you read the book?” Marguerite asked him. “It’s quite the page-turner, isn’t it?”

“It’s wonderful. I can’t wait to read the others.”

“They’re all good. Did Abby tell you they’re making a TV movie from
Murder Down the Lane
?”

“No, she didn’t.”

Abby’s shoulders lifted. “I just found out a few days ago.”

“Congratulations,” Jason said, realizing there was a lot he didn’t know about Abby. Here with her friends, in her element, he felt very much like the newcomer. He’d only begun to scratch the surface of her life story, and at once he felt eager to acquaint himself with every facet of her soul and heart.