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
“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
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