‘Wow.’ He gave a derisive smile as he looked around the room. ‘You must be itching to change things in here.’
She wasn’t sure she would know where to start.
Well, no, that wasn’t strictly true, although the décor in here did run to worn and comfortable rather than elegant or eye-catching. She would take out all the heavy furniture for a start, replace it with—
‘Just joking, Meg,’ he drawled. ‘As I told you, I don’t own the place. As long as it has a chair for me to sit on and a bed for me to sleep in, I’m really not too interested.’ He sat forward in his armchair, cradling his glass of wine between long, sensitive hands. ‘I am beginning to see a pattern emerging, though,’ he told her softly.
Meg gave him a startled look. ‘You are?’
‘I am.’ He gave a mocking inclination of his head. ‘Twin girls, born to older parents, one twin practical and ambitious, the other more sensitive and artistic. The older twin goes on to make a successful career for herself as a lawyer, an advantageous marriage—she is married? I thought she might be,’ he drawled at Meg’s nod of confirmation. ‘No kids, either, I suspect; plenty of time for that later, if at all. The younger twin, on the other hand, turned out to have an artistic flare, opted for art college in London rather than university before finally getting spat out into the real world, only to end up getting pregnant—’
‘I think you have said quite enough, Mr Cole,’ Meg cut in abruptly, turning away slightly so that he wouldn’t see the sheen of tears in her eyes. ‘It isn’t polite to discuss people’s personal lives in this way.’
‘British reserve, you mean?’ he derided. ‘Yeah, I’ve heard of that. We have something like it in the States too. It’s called respecting other peoples’ privacy. But I seem to remember someone asking questions about my family before dinner.’
‘It’s hardly the same.’ She turned sharply to snap at him, having brought those tears firmly under control. She had cried enough tears over the years over her family, without breaking down in front of this man.
Jed Cole looked up at her consideringly. ‘Got a little too close to home, did I?’
Far too close. Although he hadn’t been right about everything. No, not everything.
‘Hey, don’t beat yourself up about it,’ Jed chided derisively. ‘I’m the duckling in my nest of swans too: Granddad was a farmer, Dad’s a farmer, my two brothers are farmers.’
‘And you, Mr Cole, what exactly are you?’ she challenged, still stung by their earlier conversation.
‘Well, I sure as hell ain’t a farmer,’ he assured mockingly.
She already knew that, those strong, slender hands didn’t grow crops or tend animals. In his youth maybe, but certainly not for the last twenty years or so.
He gave a confidently dismissive smile. ‘We weren’t discussing me.’
‘We aren’t discussing me, either.’ Meg drank down some more of her wine before placing the almost empty glass down on the table. ‘Offering Scott and I shelter for the night does not entitle you to comment on either myself or my family.’
‘No?’ he taunted huskily, putting his own glass down on the carpeted floor before getting slowly to his feet. ‘Then what does it entitle me to?’ he challenged, that vivid blue gaze moving over her slowly, from the tips of her toes to the top of her ebony head, before moving down slightly to rest speculatively on the fullness of her lips.
For some reason he was deliberately trying to unnerve her. And he was succeeding. The atmosphere between them was now charged with expectation, the intensity of his gaze almost tangible against her lips.
He was playing with her, Meg recognized frowningly. It was there in the mocking twist to his mouth, the hard gleam of laughter in his eyes.
She drew in an angry breath. ‘It entitles you to my heartfelt thanks,’ she bit out tautly.
He gave a brief inclination of his head. ‘Which you’ve already made. Several times,’ he drawled.
Her eyes sparkled with her anger. ‘Which I’ve already made several times,’ she agreed tightly. ‘Now if you will excuse me.’ She bent to pick her handbag up from the floor. ‘It’s been a long day, and I’m very tired.’
‘Oh, I’ll excuse you, Meg,’ he told her mockingly. ‘I’m sure that most men would excuse you anything.’
Her mouth tightened. ‘Goodnight, Mr Cole,’ she told him firmly before turning on her heel to leave.
‘’Night, Meg,’ he called after her tauntingly.
Her shoulders stiffened slightly but she didn’t halt her departure, only starting to breathe again once she was out in the hallway with the door firmly closed behind her.
Jed Cole was rude. He was hostile. He was mocking. He was, in a word, infuriating.
He was also one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. And far too sexy for his own good.
‘Just exactly what do you think you’re doing?’
Jed looked up to watch as a very irate Meg stomped across the snow towards them, her eyes sparkling deeply green, twin wings of angry colour in her cheeks.
Something had put a burr under her saddle, that was for sure, and it appeared to be him. Although he couldn’t for the life of him think what he had done; this was the first time this morning that he had set eyes on her.
As to what he and Scott were doing, surely the two huge balls of snow, one placed on top of the other, the bottom one larger than the top, spoke for themselves.
But he was willing to humour her for the moment. ‘We’re building a snowman.’
‘I can see that,’ Meg snapped irritably. ‘But don’t you think it would have been better to have woken me first and told me what you were doing?’
‘Why?’ Jed eyed her derisively. ‘Did you want to build a snowman, too?’ He folded his arms across his chest as he looked down at her.
‘No, of course I—’ she broke off her angry reply to glare at him frustratedly. ‘You—’
‘You really should have put a hat and coat on before coming out here,’ Jed told her frowningly. She was already starting to shiver as the cold penetrated the red jumper and denims she wore. ‘Especially as I made sure Scott was dressed appropriately before I would let him come outside.’
‘Isn’t our snowman great, Mummy?’ The animated little boy was covered in enough snow to be a snowman himself, having insisted on rolling the huge balls of snow until they had become too heavy for him to move and Jed had had to take over. ‘Jed says he has an old hat and scarf we can put on him.’
‘Mr Cole, darling,’ Meg corrected slightly distractedly as she brushed some of the snow from his clothes.
Scott grimaced with what little of his face could be seen beneath the woollen hat and scarf he wore. ‘But he said I could call him Jed, Mummy,’ he dismissed with the simplicity of a child. ‘Jed says we need a carrot and some coal, too, for his face.’
Jed watched the way Meg’s mouth tightened slightly at this second ‘Jed says’ in as many minutes, sensing there was an explosion about to happen if he didn’t intervene. ‘How about Mummy and I go back into the cottage and get them right now?’ he suggested lightly. ‘You can look in the wood pile over there for some small branches that might do for arms, if you like,’ he added as the little boy looked disappointed not to be included in the task.
‘Cool!’ Scott grinned before scampering off to the wood pile, totally impervious to the icy cold air that was now making his mother’s teeth chatter.
Jed raised dark brows at a still frowning Meg. ‘Shall we?’ He indicated the cottage.
Her mouth firmed. ‘I think we had better,’ she muttered disgruntledly before turning and stomping back inside.
Jed followed at a more leisurely pace, sure that she wouldn’t approve of the way he was watching her hips and backside move in the tight denims.
Yep, there was no doubt about it, Meg Hamilton was a fine-looking woman, under any circumstances. And Scott was a great little kid.
But they were also a complication he didn’t need in his life, now or at any other time, so he had better stop thinking this way. Absolutely no involvement, he reminded himself sternly.
They got as far as the kitchen before she turned on him. ‘I don’t allow Scott to be overfamiliar with adults,’ she told him stiffly.
‘That’s good.’ He nodded tersely. ‘I don’t believe in being overfamiliar with adults, either.’ Although he couldn’t guarantee that was going to last too much longer where Meg was concerned. It was a cliché, he knew, but she really was beautiful when she was angry. Her eyes sparkled like emeralds, her cheeks were flushed, even her lips appeared redder. And more kissable.
‘You know exactly what I mean,’ she told him frustratedly. ‘And what do you mean by just disappearing outside with him in that way?’ She stood hands on hips now as she challenged him.
‘I don’t see what your problem is.’
‘My problem is that I woke up to find Scott gone, and neither of you to be found in the cottage.’ She was tense with fury now. ‘If I hadn’t heard Scott laughing, and looked out of the window and seen you both I would have thought—’