live in my house …’
‘I live in the basement apartment as part of the wages you pay me—not in your house.’ She shook her head impatiently. ‘And if I were a man you wouldn’t be asking me these ridiculous questions!’
If Bree were a man Jackson wouldn’t have felt that stirring of physical interest in her earlier either!
‘Come and play with me, Bree.’
Jackson had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t noticed Danny joining them until he spoke at his side. Looking down, he saw that his son carried the now-panting puppy in his arms. It had been love at first sight for both of them when Danny had come home from school and rushed into Bree’s office to see his Christmas present from Granny.
Jackson took great delight in seeing the way his mother cringed every time Danny called her that; only her deep love for the little boy kept her silent on the subject. Jackson found that he could forgive his mother for a lot of things when he saw the genuine love she had for her grandson.
‘Bree can’t play right now, Danny, because she has to go and get ready to go out this evening.’ Jackson sank down on his haunches beside his son.
Danny looked up at Bree with guileless blue eyes. ‘You’re going out?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Jackson heard her mutter under her breath as she shot him an irritated glance before forcing a smile for Danny. ‘I’ll only be gone for a little while,’ she reassured him lightly.
‘Don’t worry, Danny, I’ll wait up and make sure that Bree arrives home safely,’ Jackson drawled smoothly.
Bree narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary, thank you.’
‘No problem,’ he dismissed lightly, straightening up. ‘Be sure and come into the main house to let me know you’re back, won’t you? Otherwise I’ll only worry.’
Bree wasn’t fooled for a moment by those innocent blue eyes Jackson levelled on her—he was enjoying himself now, damn him. At her expense. And all because she had impulsively accepted a dinner invitation from a man she didn’t even have any real interest in!
It had all seemed so romantic eighteen months ago, when she and David had decided on a pre-Christmas wedding. An occasion and a time of year that would always have special significance for them both. As it turned out that Christmas had been nothing but a nightmare for Bree, lost in a haze of crying and heartbreak, of family rows and the slamming of doors, until she hadn’t been able to stand it any more and had moved into the anonymity of a hotel in order to escape it all. Which was the very reason she had been so desperate and homeless when she’d come for her interview with Jackson almost a year ago.
Bree had so wanted it to be different this year, had so wanted to be able to enjoy Christmas again—and had been sure that she could do so with Danny’s help. There was something about children and Christmas that no adult could resist.
And Bree had almost managed to fool herself—until she had realised earlier that it should have been her first wedding anniversary today. Not that Bree had even a residual ounce of love for David left inside her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t still grieve for her own lost hopes and dreams.
To now find herself the butt of Jackson’s warped sense of humour was just too much!
She gave him a sweet, insincere smile. ‘Of course, Daddykins!’
Danny gave a giggle. ‘Did you hear that, Daddy? Bree called you Daddykins!’
As Bree had hoped, Jackson’s mocking blue eyes were now totally devoid of humour. ‘I heard what she called me,’ Jackson bit out tersely, glaring at Bree over Danny’s head. ‘Just make sure you let me know you’re back so that I can be sure everywhere is locked up after you.’
When he put it like that it was a reasonable request; there were security gates at the end of the driveway that Bree would have to come through, and an alarm system fitted in her apartment as well as in the main house. Human safety apart, Jackson had some very expensive photographic equipment in his studio, as well as several original paintings in the house.
‘Will do,’ she breezed flippantly. ‘Have a pleasant evening, you two.’
Jackson knew he should have wished her the same, and yet as he watched Bree leave something held him back.
It was that recklessness he sensed in her, perhaps, and the image he’d had of her earlier, standing on the edge of that cliff …
CHAPTER FOUR
IT WAS almost midnight when Bree quietly let herself into the darkness of Beaumont House, moving softly through the silence to the kitchen and out into the entrance hall, before making her way to the sitting room, where she could hear the low murmur of the television. Jackson had evidently waited up for her to return from her dinner date as promised.
Or not, Bree realised with wry amusement as she entered the sitting room and observed Jackson, sleeping peacefully in one of the armchairs. The fire in the hearth had burnt down to just a few hot coals; only the flickering television and the coloured lights on the Christmas tree illuminated the comfortable room.
Bree crossed the room with the intention of switching off the television, only to hesitate beside Jackson’s chair. She had never seen him asleep before—there was no reason why she should have—and she couldn’t help noticing how much younger he looked without that mocking glint in his eyes and that cynical twist to those sensual lips. His golden honey-and-molasses hair had fallen untidily over his brow, which only added to that illusion of boyishness.
Because it was an illusion, Bree told herself sternly; Jackson was both mocking and cynical. And sarcastic. And rude. And completely impossible. And—
And quite possibly the most sensually handsome man Bree had ever set eyes on.
She had been both hurt and hurting when she’d first come to work for Jackson almost a year ago. Totally disillusioned with all men. And the often outrageous, too-handsome Jerome Jackson Beaumont was a man who enjoyed the constant stream of women coming and going in and out of his life—and his bed. Or rather the woman’s bed; Danny’s presence at Beaumont House meant that Jackson never brought women back here to spend the night with him.
All that had only served to confirm Bree’s belief that men simply weren’t capable of faithfulness and love for one single woman.
Which didn’t mean that she couldn’t appreciate what all those other women saw in Jackson!
He was certainly a handsome devil—if a devil could have long golden hair and mocking sky-blue eyes. And a wicked sense of humour. And a lean and muscled body that had to be every woman’s deepest fantasy …
Exactly when had Bree stopped feeling so hurt by David’s betrayal and become so aware of all those things about Jackson? Was it only today? Or had she noticed these things before but just never acknowledged them?
‘What the—? Bree, is that you?’
Bree had been so lost in thought as she gazed down at Jackson appreciatively that she hadn’t noticed when he awoke. Now he was gazing up at her—not with cynical or mocking blue eyes, but with the slow, lazy appreciation
