"Your room," he announced.
"My room?"
Jack nodded. "I'm sure you'll be pleased to hear you don't have to head out into that awful weather again. It's spacious and en suite, so you'll have plenty of privacy." When she remained rooted to the spot, he added, "I'm right down at the other end," wafting his hand as though to indicate he would be miles away.
Abby wasn't reassured. "You mean I'm expected to stay here?" she managed when she finally found her voice, although it came out a little squeaky.
"Why not?"
The colour flashed in Abby's cheeks as she fought for some control over the combination of panic and anger rising within her. "But the agency told me you would be arranging some accommodation for me!"
"And that's exactly what this is," Jack said, gesturing again. "Come and take a peek. I'm sure you'll like it."
Abby still made no move. Her heart was in her mouth, and she struggled to breathe. She shook her head.
"No, I don't think so. No."
She turned and shot down the stairs. By the time Jack caught up with her, she'd already pulled on soggy boots and was busy rewrapping herself in her equally soggy outer garments.
"What on earth are you doing?" he asked.
"Leaving."
"Leaving?"
"To find somewhere to stay," she clarified. She didn't want him to think she was giving up on the job itself — she needed it too badly — but she had no intention of spending the night here. That was not the deal at all.
"And where would that be, exactly?" Jack asked, leaning against the wall with his hands jammed deep into his pockets.
"I was hoping you could tell me." Abby's voice was somewhat muffled by the copious scarf. She rummaged in her bag for her car keys. "I presume there's a local pub that has a room, or a bed and breakfast place, maybe …"
Her voice trailed off as she wondered briefly who would be paying, but she shrugged it off as quickly as it entered her head. She could afford one night somewhere, if push came to shove, and if Jack Blane wouldn't agree to foot the bill for her accommodation as she'd been led to believe, then the whole deal was off anyway as far as she was concerned. Surely he wasn't suggesting she stay here just to penny-pinch? And if that wasn't the reason, then what was, exactly? Because if he thought …
She realised Jack was making no move to help her. "Well?"
Jack shook his head. "If you hadn't noticed, we're quite a way from anywhere out here," he declared.
All the more reason not to be sleeping over! Abby wanted to shout at him, but she held her tongue.
"You must have seen that as you drove here," he added.
"I couldn't see anything for the snow!"
"Precisely!" There was triumph in his voice. "So even if there was somewhere available at this time of night — and I'll point out to you it's now past nine o'clock — and even if I gave you directions — which I have no intention of doing — how on earth do you imagine you would find it?"
"Fine." Abby stomped to the door. "If you won't cooperate, I'll just have to manage." Her hand on the door, she said, "I'll be back in the morning to discuss the work part of my contract, if that's okay with you, but I'm afraid staying here was not in the job description I was given." She flung open the door, immediately taking a step back as the wind slapped ice-cold into the small part of her face available to it.
Recovering herself, she tried again, shutting the door behind her and negotiating the lethal steps to her car — but what she saw when she got there filled her with dismay. Its roof had a deep white topping of snow and the space cleared for it was already beginning to fill in. If she wanted to leave, she would have to dig her way out, and that would mean asking for a shovel. Cursing, she started to head back to the house and crashed headlong into the solid wall that was Jack Blane. Her heart jumped in panic, and she let out a squeak. She hadn't heard his footsteps in the snow.
"What are you doing?" she asked indignantly, her heart still thudding dangerously.
"I could ask you the same question." There was an unmistakeable edge of anger in his voice.
Abby ignored it. "I need a shovel," she pointed out.
"You need more than a shovel, you need a snow plough," he told her, his words almost snatched away by the snow and wind. "And then a tractor to pull you out of whatever snow drift you end up in. Followed by an ambulance … or possibly a hearse. For goodness' sake!"
When her expression remained mutinous, he took hold of her arm and dragged her, tumbling and skidding, past her car to the road.
"Use your eyes. And your brain!"
He took hold of her head with his hands and twisted it to the right and then left. All Abby could see was a complete white-out. The road she had driven along less than an hour before, already treacherous, was lethal now. A tear of defeat ran down her cheek, and she brushed crossly at it.
Jack's tone softened a little. "You're lucky you got here in one piece in the first place. Please, Abby. Come inside. It's a misunderstanding. We'll sort it out somehow, but there's nothing we can do about it tonight."
Abby knew he was right. She trudged after him, allowing him to help her up the steps. His touch was sure and strong, which was just fine, because she was beginning to realise how exhausted she was.
Once more unwrapped from her snowy things, she was led through the archway from the kitchen into a cosy lounge where a log fire burned low, casting a warm light across the thickly carpeted floor.
