November Harlequin Presents 2(256)
Seeing her amused expression, he raised one eyebrow in that maddeningly special way that made Cryssie’s toes curl. ‘What’s funny?’ he enquired mildly.
‘You,’ Cryssie said, trying not to giggle. ‘You look like the head waiter!’—for obviously he was in his evening dress. ‘Thank you, my good man. I hope you don’t expect a tip!’
The minute she’d said that she regretted it, because it gave him the perfect opportunity to say that he did—and what sort of tip! But he merely grinned at her and walked across to the window, drawing the curtains aside.
‘What time is it?’ she asked, in a still sleepy voice, reaching for the glass of orange juice and drinking thirstily.
‘Ten-thirty,’ he replied. ‘With a bit of luck I can get you home by late afternoon. The thaw has arrived as suddenly as the storm, but slush is now the problem, so it’ll take a while. But the ploughs have been busy since daylight.’ He turned to look across at her. ‘Do you feel better this morning? You’ve had a very restful night, considering everything.’
‘Yes, thanks,’ Cryssie said, pouring herself some tea. ‘And thank you for letting me have the bed…. Did you manage to get any rest on that thing?’
‘Not a lot,’ he admitted, ‘but that doesn’t matter. I can go without sleep for hours. As you’d informed me earlier that you need yours, it was only sensible for us to swap.’ He paused, noting the pretty blush which coloured her cheeks as she sipped the warm tea. Why did he feel this way, so protective of this unprepossessing female? he asked himself. ‘I must say, you look very…refreshed this morning.’
She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, marvelling privately at how fate had managed to bring her to this position in her usually uneventful existence. ‘Have you had breakfast?’ she asked suddenly. And what did it matter to her whether he had or not? she thought fleetingly. Yet somehow it did…He had been—was being—very considerate. A pang of something she couldn’t explain seared her heart for a moment. Under other circumstances, and happening to someone other than herself, this would be a wonderful situation, she thought. To be sitting up in bed being brought breakfast by a handsome member of the opposite sex would surely be the stuff of romance. Romance! That dangerous word was nothing to do with her!
‘I’ve had coffee,’ he replied, turning to look out of the window again. ‘We might have some lunch here later, if you feel like it, and then try the roads.’ He paused, and then without looking at her went on quietly, ‘There’s no need for anyone at Hydebound to know what happened, by the way…that we couldn’t get home last night,’ he said. ‘Or indeed that we were here at all. I never discuss my private life and arrangements with anyone anyway—certainly no one in business—and I’d advise you to do likewise. It saves a lot of gossip and chit-chat. If by some chance word gets around, all anyone needs to know is that I needed to talk to you about work—which I did—and that we were holed up here because of the snow but spent the night apart—which we also did.’ He turned and looked across at her. ‘The management here are discretion itself, so nothing will come from this direction. It is, after all, our business. And it should remain that way.’
Cryssie had started to butter a piece of toast while he’d been speaking, but now his words made her put down her knife and push the plate aside, any appetite completely gone. ‘I will say nothing to anyone,’ she said coldly. ‘I left a message for my sister last night, so she knows why I couldn’t get home. But other than that my lips are sealed!’
He needn’t worry himself about his mighty reputation being damaged in any way by her, she thought angrily. Last night had been his idea, not hers, and if he wanted it all kept secret that was fine by her! In any case, she would not have dreamed of mentioning it at work. Rose could be spiteful at times, and it wouldn’t be wise for her to know anything!
Jed smiled at her darkly, but somehow Cryssie couldn’t even begin to smile back. She was honest enough to realise that she had warmed to Jeremy Hunter—a no doubt essential person in their lives, hers and Polly’s and Milo’s—had even begun to like him. A lot. But his calculating statement just now had wiped that from her mind. He was only interested in himself and his standing in the community, she thought.
She drank the last of her tea and threw off the duvet. ‘I’d better get dressed,’ she said coolly. ‘Because the minute the roads are open I want to get home.’