A Touch of Winter (A Short Story) (5 page)

‘Are you OK ?’ asked a tall man, who helped her to her feet and gave her a reassuring smile.

Still trying to control her racing heartbeat and loud breathing, Abbie smiled back. ‘I am now.’ He was cute, with brown hair and blue eyes, and an Irish accent to die for.

An older man, already strapped into his seat, frowned at her. ‘Were we expecting you?’ he asked, glancing at his watch. His expensive suit didn’t quite conceal the beginnings of a potbelly or thinning hair, and his air of self- importance set her teeth on edge.

She stood up and dusted herself down. ‘I believe you were. I’m Abbie Marshall,
New York Independent
. I’m here to interview Jack Winter.’ She tried to make it sound as if that was the only reason she was on the plane.

‘No so fast, Ms Marshall. I’m Mr Winter’s agent. Everything should be cleared through me.’ He pulled out his smartphone.

‘This is Zeke Bryan,’ the younger man said.

‘Mr Bryan.’ She nodded politely, but made no effort to shake his hand. ‘
New York Independent
. I believe an interview was agreed with us some time ago. Part of Mr Winter’s contract with Standard Studios.’

The agent looked in two minds but before he could say anything else, the younger man flashed her a smile and said, ‘Oh, give it a rest, Zeke, it’s not as if we can’t use some female company on the flight.’

The agent sat back in his seat scowling, and then looked away. It seemed she was free to proceed.

The young man held out his hand. ‘I’m Kevin O’Malley.’
She shook his hand, enjoying his friendliness and easy manner. Abbie could understand all those stories about Irish charm.

He raised his voice slightly. ‘Hey, Jack, come and meet our lovely guest.’

There was no response. Oh, great. Jack Winter was one of those prima donna actors who ignored everyone else. Reluctantly, she followed Kevin the few steps to the back of the plane, to be introduced to the infamous star.

When Kevin stepped to one side and she finally saw Jack Winter up close, she felt as though she had been hit by a
n invisible fi
st. Abbie had to make a conscious effort
to keep breathing. Why had no one ever said? Or had she just not being paying attention? She dragged in a breath and tried to examine him objectively, like the professional journalist she was.

It was easy to see why women flocked to see his movies. Jack Winter was all masculine hard lines. He didn’t carry an ounce of spare flesh but gave the impression of lethal power, barely under control. Razor sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw added to the tough guy image.
And yet, fighting that dazzling He- Man perfection, there was an irresistible sensual allure in the curve of his mouth.
It wasn’t right: no one should be that hot.

Somehow, it made it worse that Jack was staring out the window and ignoring everything in the cabin. Kevin touched his arm to get his attention.

Thick, dark brows framed the pair of startling blue eyes that turned in her direction. In the face of so much male beauty, Abbie was conscious of her own appearance. She was dirty, sweaty and in need of a shower.

He stood up, towering over her and making her feel dainty and petite. The photographs in the glossy magazines didn’t do him justice: they couldn’t show the overwhelming potency of the man. This close, she could feel the heat radiating off his body and caught the faint aroma of an expensive cologne. But even more distinctive was the subtle but still overwhelming aura of masculinity around him. No matter how familiar he was, nothing could have prepared her for that. Her breath caught in her throat . . .

‘We’re about to take off ,’ he said abruptly, and urged her into the seat opposite. He strapped her in before she could protest and redid his own seat belt. With that, the plane taxied down the rough runway. The engines whined as the jet left the ground and climbed into the sky, leaving the winking lights of Tegucigalpa far below them.

He offered her his hand. He had big hands,
she noticed, with a strong, fi
rm grip. ‘I’m Jack Winter.’ His voice was a low rumble and his accent was even more enticing than Kevin’s.

Finally, he smiled. A smile as wicked as his reputation. Those sensuous lips curled, showing white teeth and a single dimple in his lean cheeks. His eyes blazed even bluer. She caught her breath. On the screen, he was handsome. In the flesh, Jack Winter was heart stopping.

He continued to smile, waiting for a response.
Oh, settle down. You’re not a star- struck intern on the lifesty
le pages. He’s just another job
.
Abbie leaned forward and placed her hand in his. ‘Abbie Marshall. Pleased to meet you, Mr Winter. Thanks for the ride.’

‘Call me, Jack.’

Abbie was in no frame of mind to do an interview. She had dealt with some frightening people in her day, but none had had this effect on her. Even in the face of guntoting insurgents she had managed to keep a clear head.
Not this time – both her pulse and her thoughts were racing. There was nothing for it but to get on with it. She reached down into her bag to pull out her recorder.

‘I’ll try to get the interview over quickly.’

His smile vanished. ‘What interview?’

‘The interview you agreed to give the
New York Independent
. That’s why I’m here.’

Jack looked at her suspiciously. His aversion to journalists was well known. But she could see the flash of recognition in those steely blue eyes: the studio’s publicity machine had set up an ambush and there was nothing he could do.
It didn’t mean he was happy about it. Abbie shivered as he gave her a long, steady look, assessing her coldly.

‘Of course,’ he said finally. ‘I’m looking forward to a grilling.’

His dry tone and raised eyebrow told her that this wouldn’t be an easy interview. What the hell had Josh dropped her into?

Kevin made his way to the front of the plane and returned with three bottles of iced tea. He offered Abbie one and she took it gratefully.

Abbie held up her digital recorder. ‘Do you mind if I record this?’

Jack shrugged. He opened his bottle and took a long swig. ‘Go ahead.’

Like a light being switched off , the charm was gone.
Abbey smiled encouragingly. ‘I promise this won’t take long, Mr Winter.’

Jack took another swig.

She switched on the recorder. ‘So, why are you in Honduras?’

Jack gave her a blank stare before draining the last drops of iced tea. ‘ You haven’t done your homework.’ He sounded annoyed.

Abbie flushed. ‘Sorry, I was kind of dropped into this, Mr Winter, but if you wouldn’t mind filling me in on –’

‘Lady, I’ve been up for thirty- six hours straight. I’m too tired for this.’

If Jack Winter wouldn’t cooperate, this would be a short interview. Abbie could feel her temper rising and she took a deep breath before replying. ‘I got this assignment thirty minutes ago. Just how much homework do you think I’ve been able to do?’

Jack pressed a button in the armrest of his seat and eased it back into a reclining position. ‘Let’s make it interesting. For each question you ask me, I get to ask you one. And you call me Jack. Agreed?’

‘That is no way to conduct an interview, Mr . . . Jack.’

‘Take it or leave it.’ He closed his eyes.

She heard Zeke Bryan chuckle from further up the aisle.

Abbie sighed with frustration. Jack Winter might be Hollywood A- list but he was turning into a major pain in the ass. There was no way that she was going to let him get the better of her.

‘Very well, Jack.’

He opened those amazing eyes and smiled at her. ‘I’m all yours, Abbie. Ask your questions.’

‘Why are you in Honduras?’

Before he had a chance to speak, Zeke Bryan interrupted.
‘Jack was here to open a medical facility for the people of Tegucigalpa. We filmed
Jungle Heat
there last year and Jack promised to return when it was complete.’

His answer surprised her. A lot of the studios made promises to help the local people when they were on location, but they seldom delivered.

‘My turn, Abbie. Why are you here?’

There was no harm in telling him. The story would hit the papers in a couple of days. ‘I was covering a story about a link between drug cartels and political figures in the Honduras government.’

‘A dangerous job for a woman.’

‘Why?’ She tried not to snap at him. ‘Don’t you think women should cover serious stories?’

She could feel herself shrinking under the intensity of his gaze. ‘I didn’t say that, but yes, I would consider covering a drugs story in Honduras to be a dangerous occupation.’

She couldn’t even argue with that, considering Scarface and his associate. She decided not to mention that and forced her attention back to the interview. ‘But you’re famous for courting danger yourself, aren’t you, Mr Winter? I mean, Jack.’

‘I enjoy pushing my limits. Don’t you find that you can learn a lot about yourself that way?’

‘Is that a question?’

This time his smile was genuine. ‘No, just an observation. Here’s my question – since you obviously like going after big stories, what are you doing interviewing an actor?’

Was that a joke? She couldn’t read him well enough to tell.

‘Like you say, it’s good to push your limits,’ she said. ‘I guess I was just in the right place at the right time. You know, taking on a role outside of my usual comfort zone. Haven’t you ever done that?’

‘Oh Abbie, you’d be surprised at my range,’ he said. Abbie had an uncomfortable feeling she was missing something.

‘You’re obviously committed to your career. Where does that leave the rest of your life? Tell me, are you married? Single? Still looking for the right guy?’

‘Single,’ she said. ‘But I have a fiancé back in New York.’ Abbie suppressed a pang of guilt when she remembered William. She hadn’t spared him a thought in days. She would have to call him when she got to Miami.

‘So, no serious relationships, then.’

Across the aisle, Kevin had been listening and guffawed.
Abbie scowled at him. ‘We’ve been engaged for four years.’

Jack whistled. ‘Four years, and he hasn’t managed to get you up the aisle. Doesn’t sound like much of a fiancé to me.’

Abbie gritted her teeth. ‘ You’ve had your question, Jack. Let’s talk about your relationships. Are you married or still looking for 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 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’t be 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.