Read A Touch of Winter (A Short Story) for Free Online

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