He noticed the way her gaze darted down for a moment and Jack felt a real kind of panic. Was he becoming like Nicky? Out and out crazy? He stiffened as Deirdre responded, preparing to deny the earlier admission, until her final statement, which stilled him.
"Snow?" He should have brought the whole damn bottle of whiskey with him. Staring balefully at his empty glass, he turned it in his hands a moment, then looked back at Deirdre, his brows furrowed. "So who were you?" His voice was hard, and so he tried to soften it, smiling ruefully. "Not Santa Claus, I hope."