before she leaves for her Caribbean cruise later today.’
‘Oh.’ Bree’s brow cleared as understanding dawned on her: Jackson and his widowed mother, Clarissa Beaumont, had a way of rubbing each other up the wrong way.
Tall, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, Clarissa was a classical beauty who’d had cosmetic surgery in the past, and now received regular Botox injections. As a consequence Clarissa looked no older now than she had when the photographs in Jackson’s study had been taken—when he and his sister, Jocelyn, were small children. Jocelyn had died several years before Bree came to work for Jackson, so she had never met her, but if Jocelyn were still alive she and her mother could probably have passed for sisters!
‘Exactly.’ Jackson grimaced. ‘For some reason Danny’s present wasn’t ready last night, so she’s calling round with it on her way to the airport in …’ he looked down at the slim gold watch around his wrist ‘… oh, half an hour or so.’
‘Which is precisely the reason you’ve decided to go out,’ Bree concluded drily.
‘Which is definitely the reason I’m going out.’ Jackson looked completely unperturbed by her astuteness. ‘Seeing my delightful mother twice in as many days is asking too much of any man! Especially as she’ll have the latest pretty-boy hanger-on with her today,’ he added scathingly. ‘Although I do believe this one may be marginally older than me!’
Bree’s expression lightened as she resisted the urge to smile at Jackson’s look of total disgust. Clarissa Beaumont had been left a very wealthy widow when Jackson’s father had died twenty years ago, allowing her to flit around the world from one social engagement to the next, usually with a handsome young man half her age in tow. In the past year Bree had seen the older woman accompanied by at least half a dozen or so such young men.
Much to Jackson’s obvious disgust.
‘Just stick the present under the tree with all the others when it arrives,’ Jackson told her dismissively. ‘I’ll be back in a couple of hours.’
‘You really are—’ Bree broke off her accusation as the mobile on her desk began to ring.
‘That’ll be Tyler,’ Jackson predicted, grinning. ‘So you’ll have to save any more compliments for me until later!’
‘As if!’ Bree snorted as she picked up the mobile, ready to take the call. ‘Make sure you don’t forget to collect Danny from school at three-thirty.’
‘Yes, ma’am!’ Jackson straightened to give her a salute. ‘And good luck with my mother,’ he added tauntingly as he disappeared through the door.
Bree sighed in exasperation before taking the call, with an apology for Jackson’s unpredictable behaviour at the ready. As usual.
‘WHAT the hell is that?’
Bree glanced up at an astounded Jackson, standing in the doorway of the main sitting room at Beaumont House. He was staring across at her in horrified disbelief.
‘Well, correct me if I’m wrong,’ she quipped, ‘but it looks like a puppy to me.’
‘Very funny.’ The scowl on Jackson’s brow deepened as he stepped into the room, where Bree sat in front of the log fire, playing with a small dark grey and white bundle of fur and a ball of wool. ‘What I want to know is what it’s doing here? I’m sure I told you I didn’t allow pets when you first came to work for me!’
‘You did, yes,’ she confirmed nonchalantly.
‘Well?’ Jackson prompted impatiently.
Bree smiled, raising a rueful eyebrow. ‘You obviously forgot to mention that particular house rule to your mother.’
‘My mother? What the hell does she—’ Jackson stared down in horror at the mischievous puppy. ‘No … She wouldn’t. She didn’t!’
‘Oh, I think you’ll find she would and she did,’ Bree retorted, picking up the puppy as she rose to her feet. ‘Come and meet Danny’s Christmas present.’
Jackson made no effort to go anywhere near the puppy Bree held in her arms.
‘Has my mother gone completely insane? I can’t have a puppy here, chewing up the furniture and causing mayhem amongst my photographic equipment!’
‘I think your protest may be a little too late, given that he’s here already,’ Bree teased.
‘No! No way am I having a dog.’ Jackson gave a determined shake of his head. ‘It will have to go back to wherever it came from,’ he announced firmly. ‘And before I collect Danny from school,’ he added with grim finality.
‘I have no idea which breeder your mother purchased the puppy from, and as she’s currently on her way to the Caribbean to join her cruise ship I don’t see how we’re going to find out, either.’
Bree held the puppy protectively against her chest. She had already grown fond of the fluffy little thing in the hour since Clarissa Beaumont had breezed in, deposited it into Bree’s arms and breezed out again with a casual ‘Merry Christmas’ once informed that her son wasn’t at home. The latest ‘pretty-boy hanger-on’ had deposited all the paraphernalia a young puppy would need in the entrance hall before quickly following her.
‘Of all the irresponsible—! I’ll call her on her mobile,’ Jackson reasoned evenly as he formulated the plan in his head. ‘Then while I’m collecting Danny from school you can drive the puppy back to the breeder—’
‘Oh, I couldn’t do that!’ Bree interrupted in protest, gazing down adoringly at the puppy. ‘Why don’t you just hold him for a moment, Jackson?’
‘No!’ He backed away, hands raised defensively as she held the puppy out to him.
‘But he’s so cute!’
‘All puppies are cute, Bree,’ Jackson said briskly. ‘It’s what they grow up into that’s the worrying part. And from the look of those paws he’s going to be big!’
‘Your mother said he’s a Bearded Collie,’ Bree mentioned absently as she stroked the puppy’s ears.
‘Big,’ Jackson announced disgustedly as he pictured the fully grown dog. ‘And not only big, but I believe the breed is slightly insane too. Nope, he’s going back. And the sooner the better!’
Bree gave him an aggrieved look. ‘Danny would love to have a puppy to play with.’ She used the ‘D’ word unashamedly, knowing that although Jackson could be impossibly arrogant and selfish he had absolutely no defences against anything that might bring pleasure to his motherless son.
As expected, the statement made him pause for thought—if only briefly.
‘No,’ Jackson stated finally. ‘I draw the line at a puppy.’
‘But—’
‘Bree, it’s going
