Read Online A Winter Flame by Milly Johnson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Milly Johnson
Ads: Link
fellow will beneficiary.
‘Bonjour,’
he shouted. ‘Fancy meeting you here. Aren’t we on a wavelength? That bodes well.’
‘Who’s that?’ whispered Violet.
‘It’s
him,’
Eve replied under her breath. And from the way she said ‘him’ and that her hair appeared to be standing up on end like a pissed-off cat, Violet
knew this must be the mysterious Jacques Glace. Violet was intrigued. She had wondered what he looked like. From Eve’s description she had imagined a cross between Nosferatu and
Frankenstein’s monster, not this smiling, handsome silver-fox with shiny blue eyes and very nice, generous lips curved up into a smile. Jacques strode towards them.
‘Don’t let him shake your hand, V,’ warned Eve quickly. ‘I’ve only just managed to get my arm back in its socket.’
‘So here we are on our land,’ said Jacques, managing to imply intimacy with the way he said that. ‘Huge, isn’t it? Look at those trees – wow. How strange you should
be here at the same time as me. That’s a good sign, don’t you think?’
His damned eyes were twinkling mischievously again. Eve didn’t ask what that was a good sign of. She wasn’t in the mood for another of his stupid jokes about marriage. He was a
charmer all right, but she was safe. Forewarned was forearmed.
‘Hi there, I’m Jacques Glace. No doubt you’ve heard all about me from Eve.’ He winked at Eve and she felt her lip curling over her teeth. He held his paw out towards
Violet, seeing as no introductions from Eve were forthcoming.
Eve flashed a warning at Violet as she was taking his hand, but Jacques shook it very gently. It was the sort of handshake that spoke volumes to Violet. She got a very good vibe from him,
however much of an obvious downer Eve had on the man.
‘Sisters, I presume?’ asked Jacques, flicking his finger from one to the other. Despite their different builds and colourings, that wasn’t as ludicrous as it might have
sounded, because there was a distinct similarity in the shape of their large black-fringed eyes – even if Violet’s were the shade of May bluebells, and Eve’s Christmas-tree green.
They also had identical smiles – but Jacques wouldn’t have noticed that because he hadn’t seen Eve genuinely smile yet.
‘Cousins,’ said Violet, in a voice that told Eve she was a little charmed by Jacques. Traitor. She wouldn’t be that charmed when Eve exposed him for ripping the arse out of old
ladies’ savings.
‘Ah,’ said Jacques, and he turned to Eve then and raised his eyebrows in such a way that she felt duty bound to make introductions.
‘Mr Glace, meet Violet,’ said Eve. ‘Violet makes ice cream. I am hoping I can persuade her to supply Winterworld.’
‘Oh, I love ice cream,’ beamed Jacques with all the enthusiasm of a five-year-old child faced with a giant Mr Whippy cone studded with twelve flakes in it. ‘My grandmother used
to make the best ice cream in France. And a gorgeous orange and cinnamon sorbet at Christmas. Do we get free samples?’ He rubbed his hands together and somehow reminded Eve of the big, daft
red setter puppy which used to live a few doors down from her mother in one of the houses they had lived in. That’s what Jacques would be if he were suddenly turned into a canine. She wished.
He’d be easier to control that way. Then again, thinking of that hyper dog that never seemed to calm down – maybe not.
‘I’m sure I could rustle up a tub or two for you,’ said Violet. She had the temerity to smile. Eve couldn’t believe it – her cousin was borderline flirting with
this man.
‘Ace,’ beamed Jacques and held up an approving thumb. Then his attention shifted to Eve. ‘So, shall we commence a grand tour of our park then?’ He held out his crooked
arm for her to take. She ignored it and walked forward towards the first log cabin.
Jacques followed behind, unfolding a map from his pocket.
‘So that’s the café then?’ he said, trying
‘Bonjour,’
he shouted. ‘Fancy meeting you here. Aren’t we on a wavelength? That bodes well.’
‘Who’s that?’ whispered Violet.
‘It’s
him,’
Eve replied under her breath. And from the way she said ‘him’ and that her hair appeared to be standing up on end like a pissed-off cat, Violet
knew this must be the mysterious Jacques Glace. Violet was intrigued. She had wondered what he looked like. From Eve’s description she had imagined a cross between Nosferatu and
Frankenstein’s monster, not this smiling, handsome silver-fox with shiny blue eyes and very nice, generous lips curved up into a smile. Jacques strode towards them.
‘Don’t let him shake your hand, V,’ warned Eve quickly. ‘I’ve only just managed to get my arm back in its socket.’
‘So here we are on our land,’ said Jacques, managing to imply intimacy with the way he said that. ‘Huge, isn’t it? Look at those trees – wow. How strange you should
be here at the same time as me. That’s a good sign, don’t you think?’
His damned eyes were twinkling mischievously again. Eve didn’t ask what that was a good sign of. She wasn’t in the mood for another of his stupid jokes about marriage. He was a
charmer all right, but she was safe. Forewarned was forearmed.
‘Hi there, I’m Jacques Glace. No doubt you’ve heard all about me from Eve.’ He winked at Eve and she felt her lip curling over her teeth. He held his paw out towards
Violet, seeing as no introductions from Eve were forthcoming.
Eve flashed a warning at Violet as she was taking his hand, but Jacques shook it very gently. It was the sort of handshake that spoke volumes to Violet. She got a very good vibe from him,
however much of an obvious downer Eve had on the man.
‘Sisters, I presume?’ asked Jacques, flicking his finger from one to the other. Despite their different builds and colourings, that wasn’t as ludicrous as it might have
sounded, because there was a distinct similarity in the shape of their large black-fringed eyes – even if Violet’s were the shade of May bluebells, and Eve’s Christmas-tree green.
They also had identical smiles – but Jacques wouldn’t have noticed that because he hadn’t seen Eve genuinely smile yet.
‘Cousins,’ said Violet, in a voice that told Eve she was a little charmed by Jacques. Traitor. She wouldn’t be that charmed when Eve exposed him for ripping the arse out of old
ladies’ savings.
‘Ah,’ said Jacques, and he turned to Eve then and raised his eyebrows in such a way that she felt duty bound to make introductions.
‘Mr Glace, meet Violet,’ said Eve. ‘Violet makes ice cream. I am hoping I can persuade her to supply Winterworld.’
‘Oh, I love ice cream,’ beamed Jacques with all the enthusiasm of a five-year-old child faced with a giant Mr Whippy cone studded with twelve flakes in it. ‘My grandmother used
to make the best ice cream in France. And a gorgeous orange and cinnamon sorbet at Christmas. Do we get free samples?’ He rubbed his hands together and somehow reminded Eve of the big, daft
red setter puppy which used to live a few doors down from her mother in one of the houses they had lived in. That’s what Jacques would be if he were suddenly turned into a canine. She wished.
He’d be easier to control that way. Then again, thinking of that hyper dog that never seemed to calm down – maybe not.
‘I’m sure I could rustle up a tub or two for you,’ said Violet. She had the temerity to smile. Eve couldn’t believe it – her cousin was borderline flirting with
this man.
‘Ace,’ beamed Jacques and held up an approving thumb. Then his attention shifted to Eve. ‘So, shall we commence a grand tour of our park then?’ He held out his crooked
arm for her to take. She ignored it and walked forward towards the first log cabin.
Jacques followed behind, unfolding a map from his pocket.
‘So that’s the café then?’ he said, trying
Similar Books
