With forced effort, I smile up at him, looking directly in his eyes while I take his offered hand. One raised brow and the quirk of his lips underline an unspoken agreement we seem to have struck to not mention the earlier incident. Thank goodness.
“It’s …niceto meet you,” I say, emphasizing the wordniceso it’s almost a growl and coating the rest of my words with a heavy dose of sarcasm. I’m perfectly happy to pretend that this is our first meeting if it means I can keep my embarrassment to myself, but if he thinks I’m about to forgive him for staring, he’s so wrong.
Luckily at that moment, Blake and Bec arrive, the final couple, and we gather around to welcome them. Blake and Luke are partners in a cyber security company back in Manhattan which they started up after leaving the army six years ago. Bec is Blake’s fiancée and works for the guys as their office manager. I’ve met them both before on my visits to Manhattan and at Cassie and Luke’s wedding in the Bahamas last year.
Scott interrupts our friendly chatting with an offer of red or white wine. I want to ask if he’s got anything stronger, but I suspect that will just draw unnecessary attention to me, so I settle for red. A couple of glasses of red wine should help ease my embarrassment around Jarrod. While the new arrivals have been a brief distraction, there is no escaping the elephant in the room, otherwise known as Jarrod.
I take a seat on the edge of the sofa and stare into the leaping flames in the fireplace, searching through my memory bank for what Jasmine has told me in the past about her family. I know she has two older brothers. The oldest I thought was dating someone, so this must be the other one, given he’s alone for the holidays. This is probably the brother she described as the moody, workaholic lawyer. I snatch a quick glance at the man in question, who is currently speaking with the guys over by the dining table. Yes, this has to be the moody brother, given the way his dark brows are pulled low and a couple of crease lines are etched into his forehead.
With his intense gaze continuing to be directed elsewhere, I take the opportunity to look at him properly for the first time. His thick jet-black hair adds to his air of broody mystery, and those eyes, which I can’t see at the moment, are not easily forgotten. When I stared into them earlier, they were like dark pools of reflective light, so deeply penetrating that I’ll be avoiding his gaze in future. He makes me nervous.
I watch him raise the wineglass to his full lips, then nod at something Scott just said. Jarrod doesn’t smile a lot; in fact his mouth seems to be caught in a permanent scowl. He turns back my way, and I drop my eyes to the deep pile rug that the toes of my shoes seem to have disappeared into. Cassie comes giggling into the room, Luke not far behind her, and it gives me a reason to escape from another possible encounter with Jarrod.
I don’t want him having an opportunity to speak to me privately about our earlier meeting. No, that is all best forgotten.
A tinkling sound rings out as the chef taps a spoon against a glass to get our attention before announcing in his booming voice that dinner is ready. Everyone must be as hungry as I am, as we quickly move to take our seats at the long wooden dining table, which looks more like it belongs in a medieval banquet hall than an Aspen ski chalet. The only nods to modern American design are the large elk antler chandelier hanging low over the table and the high-back tan leather dining chairs. With only eight of us at a table that looks like it could easily seat twelve, there is plenty of room. So why do I end up seated next to Jarrod? It’s certainly not my choice and more the result of us being the only two singles.
How the hell am I supposed to swallow a mouthful of food with him sitting right there beside me? My earlier appetite just disappeared, replaced by a sickening knot of worry. At any moment, Jarrod could mention our embarrassing first encounter to everyone at the table. He’s already proven himself to not be a gentleman, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he decided to share the story of my humiliation.
I take my first mouthful of the goat cheese and spinach tart on the plate in front of me, and I can’t help moaning softly. Okay, so maybe I will be able to swallow this delicious-tasting tart. Every single flaky crumb of it.
Jarrod leans sideways in my direction, and says in a low, gruff voice, “You seem to be enjoying the starter … a lot.”
Damn him with his irresistible smell and his good hearing. I need to keep my moans of enjoyment to myself, no matter how good the food is. Or how good he smells.
I turn my head to look at him with a death stare and instantly regret it. His five-o’clock-shadow-covered jawline is just there within touching distance. My eyes dart back to my plate, a much safer place for my focus. I refuse to think of this man as sexy, as underneath that handsome exterior lies the jerk who walked in on me naked … and gawped.
My anger flares again with the memory, and I reply in a clipped tone, “Yes, it is very good.”
“Klaus will be happy to hear that. He has been our chalet chef for nearly ten years. His wife, Lydia, is the housekeeper if you need anything.”
I nod sharply, nearly giving myself whiplash, and for once keep my mouth shut. It’s the safest option generally, but especially tonight around this man. Now is not the time to allow the swirling thoughts of revenge in my head to escape, be laid bare. Oh no. There it is again; another reminder of him seeing me bare naked.
For the sake of my friends, I will swallow my pride and pretend on the surface that I am having a polite dinner conversation with a man I just met. But for his ears, he deserves my wrath … if not my silence. It’s not like I walked in on him. For a second, I imagine how nice that might have been.No, bad girl, and bad thoughts, I reprimand myself. Nobody should be walking in on anyone in the privacy of their room.
Interrupting the thoughts in my head, he continues in his serious, businesslike manner. “Madison, are you a skier or a snowboarder?” I have to give him credit, he’s determined to continue with the charade of us having just met.
Why can’t he leave me alone to enjoy my food? The silence between us stretches awkwardly, and I feel his eyes boring into the side of my head as he waits for my answer. Okay, I can do this. I can talk normally to this man about harmless general topics, though it would be even better if I didn’t have to talk to him at all.
“Neither … because I’m going to learn to snowboard. I surf, and it looks similar, so it should be easy enough.” Argh, what am I saying? I have no idea what I’m talking about, and even to myself, I sound obnoxious.
He directs a frown my way, and another uneasy silence surrounds us. Then, because he just cannot shut up, he leans his head my way, whispering, “I’m really sorry about—”
I hit him hard on his thigh under the table, then grind out in a harsh whisper, “Stop. Not another word.”
He stares at me for a second before lifting his fork to his mouth and remaining silent. I want to slink away to my room and hide. I don’t know what has come over me; I would never normally dare to slap someone like a spoiled child. What is it about Jasmine’s brother that brings out the worst in me? I mumble an apology as I stare down at my empty plate. At least I managed to silence his uptight formal version of chitchat.
Without being too obvious, I angle my body slightly away from him and tune back into the general table conversation about Blake and Bec’s wedding plans.
Blake and Bec will be marrying in a big society wedding in Manhattan in the spring. Bec is a great organizer, and as she talks about the venue and caterers, I can’t help noticing the way Blake’s eyes track her every movement. It’s cute how totally captivated the man is with his fiancée. I’m a little bit jealous of how loved up they are. In fact, how in love all of my friends are. Everyone at the table except Jarrod and me, who at this point, are no longer on speaking terms.
Bec finishes telling us about the reception room they have booked, then says, “Enough about our wedding. How about you, Jas? Have you and Scott set a date yet?” Jasmine’s head spins to look at Scott, and they exchange an oddly secretive look before he reaches across the table placing his hand over hers and giving it a squeeze.
Beside me Jarrod murmurs, “Shit,” in a voice so low only I can hear him, and my eyes dart his way. What does he know that we don’t?
Jasmine clears her throat. “Well … we were going to announce this on Christmas Eve but … now is as good a time as any. When Scott and I were in Vegas a couple of weeks ago … we got married.”
Cassie lets out a squeal as she jumps up from her seat and moves around the table to hug her friend. “Congratulations, sweetie. I’m so happy for you guys and not at all surprised that you two have taken an alternate approach. Tell me more about the wedding.”
