by Evie Hunter
EVIE HUNTER
The Pleasures of Winter
PENGUIN BOOKS
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
PENGUIN BOOKS
THE PLEASURES OF WINTER
Evie Hunter is actually two authors who met at a creative writing workshop in 2010 and discovered a shared love of erotica. Since then, while they have both written fiction in other genres, they have also written a number of BDSM-themed novellas together. The Pleasures of Winter is their first collaboration on a novel. They plan for Evie to have a long and productive career.
The Pleasures of Winter is dedicated to all of the Masters and submissives who so openly shared their personal experiences with us. Especially to D – rock, hard place and confidant.
Our grateful thanks to Ian O’Reilly of the BBC for the champagne and invaluable information about Honduras.
And to our neglected families who only complained slightly when we disappeared to write The Pleasures of Winter – normal service will be resumed shortly.
1
Abbie Marshall tucked the handset of the payphone under her chin as she scanned the display in Toncontín Airport. Despite the air conditioning, her T-shirt was already damp from the Honduran heat. ‘You have to get me out of here.’
Every flight to the States was full and now she had a bigger problem. Two of them, to be precise. They had been on her tail since she left the hotel and the dark-eyed one with the scar on his cheek was horribly familiar.
She almost missed her editor’s reply. ‘I’m on it. Give me an hour and I’ll –’
When Scarface rose to his feet, Abbie’s heart dropped like a stone and she swallowed hard. This was an international airport. They couldn’t just take her. Her gut told her something different. She had seen enough in the past two weeks to know that these men could do whatever they wanted, and no one would stop them. ‘Josh, I don’t think I have an hour.’
‘How close are they?’
Abbie gripped the handset tighter. ‘Would you be upset if I said thirty feet? I’m a sitting duck here. I can’t get a signal on my cell. I’ll find another payphone if I can’t stay on this one.’
A string of expletives followed. ‘I want you to stay on the line. Talk to me, Princess.’
Abbie ignored the princess jibe. ‘I’m fine, I just … I’m fine. Tell Sara that I’ve got the story and I’ll file it as soon as I get home.’
She eased the battered rucksack off her shoulder. It had seen her through some scary assignments – north Africa, Burma, Haiti. This might be the last trip for both of them. She had been in tight spots before, but nothing like this.
The flight to New York was announced and Abbie watched the passengers leave for the departure gate. Scarface returned from the bar and raised his glass in her direction. She wasn’t any safer here than she had been at the hotel. In a couple of hours the last flight would be gone and the men would make their move.
‘Abbie, you still there? Abbie!’ Her editor’s sharp tone jolted her back to reality. ‘Listen. Go to the charter desk in the main hall. There’s a private jet departing for Miami in thirty minutes. Jack Winter is on it. You can interview him on the way.’
‘What are you talking about – interview Jack Winter?’
She heard an exasperated sigh on the other end.
‘Do you want to get out of there or not? Standard Studios have been trying to put us together with Winter for months. He agreed to an interview, but we’ve never been able to get hold of him. It’s your lucky day because of all the godforsaken places he could have turned up in, he’s in Honduras. Or was. He’s leaving on that plane tonight. The publicist is making sure you can get on the flight but she can’t get through to Winter or his people. You’ll just have to sweet-talk him when you get there. Now, run!’
Abbie closed her eyes. Apart from her work gear, her small rucksack contained nothing but a washbag and a change of underwear. There had been no time to grab anything else when fleeing the hotel. Her T-shirt was stuck to her body. And Josh expected her to interview a Hollywood heart-throb, a guy more famous for his hell-raising and womanizing than his acting?
When she opened her eyes again, Scarface was staring at her.
‘I’m on it.’ Abbie dropped the handset into the receiver and, picking up her rucksack, she ran.
The men were surprised by her sudden flight. She heard a chair scraping noisily against the tiles and a bottle crashing to the floor. Pushing her way through the waiting passengers, she fled across the lobby, ignoring the shouts of the men racing behind her. Abbie only slowed when she spotted the armed security personnel. Toncontín also served as a military airport and she didn’t want to be arrested or shot by mistake.
A quick glance over her shoulder told her that Scarface hadn’t been so lucky. The men had been stopped. Maybe she might get out of this after all. She hurried along the main hall. Most of the desks were closed and the man at the charter desk was pulling down the shutters.
‘My name is Abbie Marshall. You should have had a call about this. I’m getting a ride on the Standard Studios jet.’
He glanced at his watch and gave her an apologetic smile. ‘I’m sorry, Ms Marshall, but you’re too late. The jet is ready for departure.’
Abbie looked over her shoulder. Scarface and his buddy had been released. ‘Please, I have to get out of here tonight.’
As the man sized her up Abbie gave him a look that she hoped conveyed the right mix of desperation and sympathy for his difficult job. Her life depended on changing his mind.
He made a snap decision. ‘OK, but we’ll have to run.’ He ushered her behind the desk and through a small door at the back. She followed him along a maze of concrete corridors, through an emergency door and out into the night. The thick, humid air hit her face like a furnace.
‘Hurry.’ He grabbed her arm and dragged her along the tarmac until she thought her lungs would burst. Up ahead, she could see the sleek white outline of a waiting jet. Two figures in Hi-Vis waistcoats were pulling the portable steps away.
‘No! Wait!’ Abbie said. Waving her arms and yelling, she raced for the plane. The ground crew finally heard her and paused, leaving the steps in place for another few precious seconds.
She launched herself up the steps and through the door at the top, landing on her hands and knees. She stayed there, panting, trying to catch her breath before she had to deal with her fellow passengers.
‘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 sui
t didn’t quite conceal the beginnings of a pot belly 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 were 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 an invisible fist. Abbie had to make a conscious effort to keep breathing. Why had no one ever said? Or had she just not been 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. The actor’s 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 airport far below them.
He offered her his hand. He had big hands, she noticed, with a strong, firm 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 lifestyle 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 gun-toting 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 Honduran 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 fe
el 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.