Spanked by an Angel [Notorious Nephilim 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Read online

  “You still with us?” asked Zach.

  Emmett turned to face him. “Yeah, just admiring the view.” He grinned, hoping it masked his thoughts. Zach didn’t miss much.

  Zach stood and stretched. “What are we serving tonight?”

  “Lamb with mint sauce. Your favorite.”

  “Maybe I’ll eat something.”

  “At the very least, you can get some fresh coffee.” Emmett clapped Zachary on the back. “And you can meet Abigail. She’s pretty, but doesn’t act like she knows it.”

  “They’re the most dangerous ones.”

  Emmett strolled toward the threshold. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

  * * * *

  When the pair entered the dining room, every woman stopped talking or eating to watch their progress. Emmett winked at a blonde he’d spent the night with earlier in the week, struggling to remember her name. She smiled, her face full of hope, but Emmett quickly averted his gaze and searched the room.

  There she was, sitting alone in the corner, her chair turned toward the expanse of windows. He couldn’t blame her. During the summer, Glacier Lake was overrun with Jet Skis and boats, but in the wintertime, its beauty and serenity were like a glimpse of heaven. The fact it had already frozen this year was a bonus. Several ice-skaters dotted the surface, bathed in the floodlights they’d installed around the perimeter.

  He motioned to Zachary, and the pair walked over to her table. “May we join you, Abigail?”

  She turned and smiled, her chocolate-colored eyes slightly wet. Emmett pulled out a chair and moved it close enough to smell her flowery perfume. Something heavy and musky would suit her better.

  “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

  “Yes. Just admiring the scenery.”

  “It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?”

  She nodded as her gaze traveled up to where Zach stood.

  “Where are my manners? My associate, Zachary Neville. Zach, Abigail Cosslin.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said.

  Zach swallowed, and his eyes clouded over with confusion. Emmett tried not to grin. It was rare to see Zach react to a woman, but he wasn’t surprised. Abigail had an old-fashioned elegance to her face. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but a few tendrils had escaped to frame her heart-shaped face. Emmett pictured taking the hair band out as she lay back naked against the pillows on her bed.

  “How are you enjoying your stay so far, Abigail?” Zach pulled out a chair and sat across from her.

  “It’s beautiful here.”

  “Have you ordered dinner?” asked Emmett.

  “Yes, just a moment ago.”

  He turned, spotted one of the waiters, and motioned him over. After he and Zach had given their orders, Emmett turned his attention back to Abigail. “I always love to hear how our guests heard about this place.”

  She blinked a few times, her face flushed. Then she fixed her gaze on a small defect in the wooden table. “A friend of a friend vacationed here last winter.”

  “Mind if I ask who?”

  Abigail regarded him with a curious stare. “Do you remember all your guests?”

  “Only the beautiful ones.”

  Her laugh was quick and nervous. “At least you’re honest.”

  Their drinks arrived, and Abigail wrapped her hands around the steaming mug of hot chocolate.

  “Good idea putting some Baileys in that,” said Zach, raising his glass of Knob Creek. He never drank anything else. “It’s kind of bland without it.”

  “Are you also one of the owners, Mr. Neville?”

  “Yes. Please call me Zach.”

  “How did this place get started?”

  Zach almost smiled. “It’s a long, boring story.”

  “Oh, I doubt that.” Abigail sipped the chocolate, her gaze flitting from one face to the other.

  “We’d rather hear about your life,” said Emmett, still wondering why she’d been crying before they joined her.

  “You probably know everything, considering the questionnaire I had to fill out was, like, twenty pages long.”

  Emmett laughed. “It’s only ten.” He leaned forward. “I don’t care where you went to school or where you grew up. Tell me what makes you happy, what makes you cry, and your favorite crayon color.”

  In his peripheral vision, Emmett caught Zach’s eye roll, followed by him signaling for their waiter. “We’ll have another round,” said Zach pointing to his glass.

  “Oh, I’m fine,” said Abigail. “One is my limit.”

  “You’re on vacation,” said Zach. “Relax and enjoy yourself.”

  She hesitated, her gaze locked on his face. Emmett held his breath. The fact that Zach was still sitting here with them was odd enough behavior for him, but trying to coax a woman into having a good time wasn’t something he’d seen his friend do in years.

  “Okay. I’ll have one more.”

  Emmett leaned back in his chair. “Now, about those questions I asked.”

  She drained her mug and gave him a direct stare. “I haven’t colored with crayons in a long time, but I’ve always been partial to the reds and oranges.”

  “Not surprising.”

  “That I haven’t colored in a long time, or that I’m partial to reds and oranges?”

  “Both.”

  She sighed and picked up a roll, sliced it with neat precision, and buttered one half. Emmett imagined her sitting up straight in the family dining room while her mother instructed her on how to butter a roll in public, how to fold a napkin so it didn’t fall out of her lap, and which fork to use for the salad. Somewhere in the house, a clock would chime softly, and the only other sounds in the room would be the gentle clink of silver against china.

  “I do know how to have fun, Emmett.”

  “I have my doubts about that, Abigail.”

  She stopped buttering her roll and looked into his eyes. “I can’t tell when you’re serious.”

  “I’m never serious.” He grinned, enjoying the way her gaze softened and her face flushed slightly. He was well aware of the effect his smile had on women.

  Abigail ate her roll, her gaze darting around the room, until their salads arrived. She looked relieved to have something to do as she picked off the croutons and placed them delicately on the plate next to her roll.

  “You could have requested they leave them off,” said Zach.

  “I’ll remember that for next time.” She put a forkful of lettuce into her mouth without looking up from her bowl.

  Emmett had already suspected she was a bit of an ice princess, but now he wondered if something deeper was going on. She’d been divorced less than six months. What had happened to break up her marriage? Had she always been this reserved and closed, or had her marriage done that to her? He didn’t buy Zach’s dismissal of her being like all the rest. His instincts were well honed after ninety years on Earth. There was more to Abigail than a rich-bitch ice queen.

  He was more determined than ever to thaw her out. Why else had she come here if not to enjoy herself? If her friend of a friend had been here last year and told her about the place, she knew exactly what to expect.

  “You didn’t tell me your friend’s name,” he said, looking up at her from under his lashes.

  She finished chewing her food before answering. “Sharon McKee.”

  Emmett shrugged. The name didn’t bring back any specific memories. “We have a lot of guests.”

  Abigail’s gaze roamed the room again. “So I see. And they’re mostly female.”

  “But surely you already knew that,” said Zach, the corners of his mouth turning up. “How’s your salad?”

  “It’s very good. How do you find such fresh vegetables in the winter?”

  Zach paused to take a sip of his drink before answering. “You can’t expect us to tell all our secrets right away.”

  “Implying that you intend to reveal some of them?”

  Zach fixed her with a pointed stare. �
��It bothers you when people don’t answer your questions directly.”

  “I think it bothers most people.”

  Abigail’s tone had become defensive, and Emmett debated the best way to intervene. Zach couldn’t hold his tongue after a couple of drinks. Emmett didn’t want him screwing things up with Abigail her first night here. Emmett had wanted her in bed from the moment he’d watched her check in. After her reaction to him earlier in the hallway outside this room, he regarded making love to her as a done deal. Unless Zach fucked it up with his bad attitude.

  Zach turned and signaled to their waiter for another round.

  “No, really,” said Abigail, placing her fork next to the half-eaten salad, “I don’t plan on getting drunk.”

  Zach frowned at her. “No indirect answers to questions and no getting drunk. I thought you said you know how to have fun?”

  “What is this? The Grand Inquisition? Do the two of you always tag team your guests like this?”

  Emmett glared at Zach. “What my associate means is that we’d love to see you relax and enjoy yourself while you’re here.”

  Abigail shook her head slightly. “I apologize. That was rude of me.”

  “No, it was rude of Zach.”

  Emmett gave Zach a look that left no room for ambiguity, but quickly realized Zach was already past the point of caring. He was determined to put Abigail in her place. Emmett regretted asking him to come to dinner, but there was nothing he could now except try to control the situation. He’d been in this spot before. In the morning, he’d let Zach have it again, knowing it wouldn’t change anything.

  “I’m not rude,” said Zach, “just direct.” He raised his glass. A half smile settled over his face as he regarded Abigail.

  Time for damage control. “What took you so far from home for college?” asked Emmett.

  “Is four hours away far?” she asked.

  “I suppose that would depend on how much of a homebody you are.”

  “Or on how much Mommy and Daddy wanted to control what you did while there,” said Zach, his words dangerously close to slurred.

  “My parents allow me to make my own decisions,” she said in a voice as frosty as the winter wonderland outside the window behind her.

  “Is that why you work for Daddy?”

  “Zach, that’s enough.” Emmett believed in a united front when it came to Zach and the others, but his friend was on the cusp of crossing a line. He wasn’t about to sit here and simply watch it happen.

  “Does it really matter who I work for as long as the bill is paid when I leave?” she asked, her dark eyes flashing with anger.

  “You think this is about your money?” Zach’s voice was soft, but Emmett knew that tone.

  “Why are you so angry with me?” she asked, lowering her voice and leaning closer. At least they were both conscious of their surroundings. Usually when Zach laid into someone, the entire dining room heard it.

  “I’m not angry. I’m drunk.”

  When their food arrived, Emmett watched Abigail pick at hers, wishing he could think of the perfect thing to say. He was afraid that any conversation he’d try to engage her in would end up with Zach insulting her.

  “This is really good tonight,” he finally said, hoping the taste of the food was neutral-enough territory for Zach.

  “Yes, it is,” she said.

  “Then why aren’t you eating it?” asked Zach.

  Abigail slammed down her fork and glared at him. Her hands visibly trembled. “I’m afraid I’m not very hungry. Please excuse me.”

  Chapter Three

  Abigail paced her sitting room, tears streaming down her face. Why the hell had she come here? And why hadn’t her so-called friend warned her about Zach? She’d mentioned two other men, whose names Abigail couldn’t remember, but had said nothing about either Zach or Emmett.

  What the hell was Zach’s problem, anyway? She was a paying customer. How dare he treat her like that? And more importantly, why hadn’t she done anything about it? That was her typical response to someone backing her into a corner. She’d cut and run, then cry about it and come up with perfect retorts for the next several hours.

  Un-fucking-believable! She was almost thirty years old, and she’d never learned to stand up to anyone. Certainly not her father or her husband, and now she’d let some drunken asshole chase her away from a delicious dinner.

  A knock on the door caused her to jump. She almost didn’t answer it, but decided that would be childish. Her heart raced as she wiped her face and opened the door, leaving the safety latch intact. No way was she letting Zach into her room.

  “I’m so sorry about Zach.”

  When she looked into Emmett’s unusual eyes, her head became woozy. Or maybe that was because she’d barely eaten anything?

  “You shouldn’t have to apologize for him.”

  “May I come in? I’ll have more food sent up so you can finish your dinner.”

  A dozen reasons why she should let him in flitted through Abigail’s mind, but she pushed them away. She needed time to think. Coming here had been a mistake. It was too soon after the divorce, and she wasn’t ready for two weeks of no-strings-attached sex. Hell, she’d never been ready for that. What had possessed her to believe she could let loose and enjoy this place?

  “I’m really not hungry, just tired. It’s been a long day.”

  Disappointment flooded his features, along with a profound sadness that almost made Abigail change her mind. Casual mind-blowing sex with a handsome stranger might be exactly what she needed to forget about Zach and the anger his words had caused. Then again, maybe that performance downstairs had been part of the act? She’d caught the longing looks from some of the female guests as they glanced at Zach and Emmett.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  His question hung in the air, every nuance and implication crystal clear, as if he’d spoken a dozen sentences instead of only one. The more she stared into those ice-blue eyes, the more she felt her resolve slipping, but this couldn’t be solved with sex. That had been one of the many problems with Malcolm. He thought sex was the answer to everything.

  She blinked and averted her gaze. “Good night, Emmett. Thanks for coming up to check on me. It was very considerate of you.”

  “Call the front desk if you change your mind. They’ll know how to reach me. Will I see you at breakfast?”

  She nodded and closed the door. As she listened to his soft footfalls fade, Abigail stared at the door half expecting him to return. She swore she could feel the heat from his body still warming the air next to her. His scent lingered in the air as if her room had been infused with it.

  Abigail brushed her teeth and climbed into bed. She’d leave in the morning. This wasn’t for her.

  * * * *

  When she awoke, Abigail thought it was morning already, but one glance at the alarm clock told her it wasn’t even midnight. She rolled out of bed and stretched, used the bathroom, then went out into the sitting room. They certainly had put her in a quiet room. She couldn’t hear anything in the hallways or outside. The feeling of isolation was peaceful until Zach’s words at dinner came back as forcefully as a slap in the face.

  Crossing the room, she looked out over the frozen landscape. Directly below were what appeared to be horse stables. Two men were hooking up a team of horses to a sleigh as several guests stood stomping their boots and shivering in the cold while they waited. In the distance, the lights from the trails flickered through the fir trees. What a romantic setting. Too bad she wouldn’t be part of it.

  A man who reminded her of Zach walked up to the men and stood close. He had the same build and slightly wavy hair. The water vapor puffs in front of his face told her he was speaking, but she couldn’t hear his words. As one of the animals started to neigh and prance, the man put his hand on the horse’s snout and leaned close to the animal’s ear. To Abigail’s astonishment, the horse immediately calmed down.

  When the guests climbed aboard th
e sleigh, one of the women said something to him, and as he turned his face toward the light, Abigail was shocked to discover that it was Zach. He shook his head, said something to the men, then turned and walked toward the building.

  How odd. He calmed horses with a whisper, yet had treated her like dirt beneath his shoe. Why should she let him get away with it? She was wide-awake, and he obviously was as well. Why wait until morning to give him a piece of her mind?

  She tossed on her clothes and boots, grabbed her coat, scarf, and gloves, and went down to the lobby. No one was at the front desk, so she wandered around, reading the signs. Access to the stables was through a heated breezeway. If Zach wasn’t there, she’d ask the men who’d hitched up the horses how to find him.

  Abigail caught the scent of baked apples and cinnamon, causing her stomach to rumble. When she stepped inside the stables, she hugged her elbows. Heat lamps were scattered along the floor, but the temperature still had to be below freezing. A couple of horses whinnied at her presence, and one stuck its muzzle over the stall door as she walked past. She stopped to stroke his forehead, when Zach rounded a corner.

  The smell of baked apples grew stronger, and Abigail realized it had to be coming from him. What was with the owners here? Did they all smell like something delicious and mouthwatering? She’d obviously been too distracted to notice his scent at dinner.

  His pewter eyes regarded her with surprise. Snow dotted his wavy hair, and his cheeks were ruddy, as though he’d been outside for some time. “Abigail. Are you signed up for a sleigh ride?”

  She shook her head, struggling to remember all the things she’d planned to say to him. Her breath came in short gasps as they stood staring at each other. What was wrong with her? She had nothing to fear from this man.