would hardly call shopping for Christmas presents in shops that were hot, stuffy and crowded ‘enjoying herself’. But Jackson didn’t look as if he was in the mood to argue the point.
She hurried after him. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, but—Wait—what sort of uproar?’
Jackson continued to scowl as he turned. ‘Beau escaped out of the kitchen, and Mrs Holmes didn’t notice he was gone for several minutes. By which time he had chewed his way through the wrapping paper on half a dozen Christmas presents under the tree, before proceeding to knock the whole damned tree over on top of himself.’
‘Is he all right?’ Bree gasped anxiously, imagining that tiny puppy buried under the eight-foot Christmas tree.
Jackson’s eyes narrowed in warning. ‘I should have known you would be more concerned about the puppy than the chaos he’s caused!’
‘Yes … Well …’ She had the grace to look briefly apologetic. ‘Christmas presents can easily be rewrapped, and the tree righted, but if Beau has been hurt—’
‘The puppy’s fine,’ Jackson snapped. ‘And the tree is now standing—even if some of the lights are broken and the decorations slightly askew. And even as we speak Danny, with the dubious help of Beau, is rewrapping the Christmas presents.’
Bree visibly brightened. ‘Then it would appear that the crisis is over.’
The renewed anger glittering in Jackson’s eyes as he glared down at her didn’t give the impression that he agreed!
CHAPTER EIGHT
BREE shifted uncomfortably as she followed Jackson into her small sitting room.
‘Shouldn’t you be going back upstairs now …?’
‘Mrs Holmes is supervising the rewrapping of the Christmas presents—she felt it was the least she could do after allowing Beau to escape,’ Jackson explained distractedly.
‘Oh.’ A frown creased Bree’s brow. ‘I … You aren’t going to send Beau back as you threatened to do yesterday, are you?’
He raised derisive brows. ‘What do you think?’
She gave a wry smile. ‘I think you might have a fight on your hands from Danny if you tried to do that now!’
Jackson tilted his head to one side and looked at her speculatively. ‘You like doing that, don’t you?’
She looked puzzled. ‘Doing what?’
Jackson smiled knowingly. ‘Invoking Danny’s name as a stick to beat me with!’
‘Oh!’ Bree gasped as guilty colour warmed her cheeks. ‘I—Well, I—’
‘Didn’t think I’d noticed?’ Jackson taunted. ‘Oh, I’ve noticed, Bree; I’ve just never had reason to argue the point.’
‘Until now …?’
‘No, not even now.’ He sighed. ‘When you’re right, you’re right. Danny would never forgive me if I even attempted to part him from Beau!’
‘No,’ Bree agreed softly.
He gave a rueful smile. ‘I’m really not a complete monster, Bree.’
‘I don’t think you’re a monster at all,’ she murmured.
‘No?’
‘No.’ She suddenly looked very serious. ‘I think you’re a wonderful father to Danny.’
‘You do?’ Jackson looked surprised.
‘Most certainly I do,’ Bree confirmed without hesitation.
‘Several times I’ve had the impression that you think I should have married and given him a mother and some brothers and sisters.’
Bree felt her heart sink at the very thought of Jackson with a wife and several more children—but only because a married Jackson would probably be even more impossible to work for, she told herself firmly. What other reason could there possibly be?
She shook her head slowly. ‘Marrying for those reasons would be completely wrong—for both of you.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’ Jackson nodded. ‘Which is why I would never consider marrying any woman who couldn’t accept and love Danny as I do.’
Bree grimaced. ‘It’s really none of my business, is it?’
No, it wasn’t, and if Jackson hadn’t had such a lousy day so far maybe he wouldn’t be talking about it now either.
Jennifer had been her usual charming and beautiful self, and she’d made it obvious throughout lunch that she was expecting them to spend a couple of hours in bed together afterwards. Ordinarily Jackson would have been only too happy to oblige—as he had several times in the past.
But not today.
Today Jackson hadn’t been able to work up even a spark of enthusiasm for making love with Jennifer. In fact he’d felt quite the opposite; just the thought of her tall and willowy body had been a complete turn-off when compared to the softness of Bree’s body. A body that Jackson had found himself thinking about far too often during a lunch date with one of the most beautiful women in the world.
He looked at Bree now, attentively and appraisingly. She looked adorable, despite the weariness from her shopping trip evident in her expression. Several dark wavy strands of hair had escaped their confines to curl wispily about her cheeks and throat. The blue jeans she wore moulded perfectly to the slenderness of her hips and bottom; a blue sweater clearly outlined the curve of her breasts.
In spite of that weariness and untidiness Jackson knew he found Bree’s natural beauty infinitely more appealing than he had found Jennifer Greaves’s ultra-perfect looks!
Bree looked pained. ‘You seemed to imply earlier that there had been more than one crisis since you got back,’ she reminded him carefully.
‘I did, didn’t I?’ He paced the room restlessly, his considerable height and the width of his shoulders dwarfing her cosy sitting room. And causing Bree’s heart to start pounding and her palms to dampen …
These conversations with Jackson were … unsettling. Particularly so when she found his rakish good looks and the barely leashed power of his lean and muscled body just so—so overwhelmingly male!
‘Well …?’ she prompted warily as he continued to pace.
His eyes glittered with displeasure as he turned to look at her. ‘You had a visitor earlier.’
‘I did?’ Bree’s wariness increased as she wondered who that visitor could possibly have been. Certainly not Roger; they had parted amicably enough on the telephone earlier. And on the rare occasions when she met with family or friends it was always in town or at one of their homes; Bree had certainly never invited anyone to visit her here at Beaumont House. She’d always preferred to keep her work and her private life completely separate.
