A Puppy for Christmas Read online

  He decided the first reason was the least complicated option to go with.

  ‘Bree, do you want to talk about what happened between us last night?’ he prompted softly.

  ‘No,’ she replied curtly, continuing to avoid his gaze as colour warmed her cheeks.

  ‘Do you want me to apologise?’

  She glanced at him sharply. ‘Do you want to apologise?’

  He grimaced. ‘Hell, no.’

  She swallowed. ‘Then I suggest the best thing would be for us both to try and forget the whole incident.’

  Jackson wasn’t sure he would be able to do that. How could he forget it? It had been Bree he had almost made love to last night. Bree! And she might be wearing tailored black trousers and a charcoal-grey sweater this morning, her hair scraped back from the pale delicacy of her face and secured on the crown of her head, but now Jackson knew exactly how long and beautiful her hair was, how velvety soft her skin was to the touch, how perfect the weight of her breasts felt in the palms of his hands, how sensitive her nipples were...

  ‘Do you want to read through the correspondence we’ve had with Lord Caxley before you meet with him at ten o’clock?’ Bree asked, standing up abruptly.

  Maybe she would be able to breathe if she wasn’t quite so close to Jackson and the warm caress of those sky-blue eyes! She avoided even looking at Jackson as she picked up the pile of discarded envelopes from the morning’s post, dropping them in the bin on her way over to the filing cabinets on the other side of the room.

  Jackson shrugged. ‘I’m just supposed to photograph him for posterity, aren’t I?’

  ‘For the reception room at his parliamentary offices in Westminster, I believe,’ Bree corrected drily.

  He nodded. ‘Just in case any of his constituents decide to pay him a visit and have no idea what their MP actually looks like, I presume?’

  Bree smiled. ‘Probably.’

  ‘No, I don’t need to see his file.’ Jackson dismissed the idea with a wave. ‘Oh,’ he added casually, ‘I forgot to ask. Has Roger Tyler called you yet this morning?’

  Bree eyed him warily. ‘It’s only nine o’clock...’

  ‘And?’

  She shrugged. ‘And I very much doubt that Roger has even seen nine o’clock in the morning for some years, let alone been compos mentis enough to make a telephone call!’

  ‘You have a point there,’ Jackson muttered, straightening up—and in doing so accidentally knocking over the pile of Christmas cards that had arrived in the post that morning.

  ‘Damn!’ He sank down on his haunches to gather them up from the floor.

  ‘It’s okay. I’ll do it!’ Bree rushed across the room, eager to help him pick up the cards. Well, one card in particular: the same card she had been looking at when he’d first come into the room.

  ‘No problem.’ Jackson continued to gather up the dozen or so cards. ‘I don’t suppose any of these are remotely interesting. I don’t know why— Hello, what’s this?’ He frowned as he read the inscription inside the card he had just picked up. ‘“To Bree, with love from David...”’ He turned to look at her enquiringly.

  Bree’s face had paled when she’d seen Jackson picking up the one Christmas card she hadn’t wanted him to see—and her silent prayer that he wouldn’t look inside had obviously gone unanswered!

  ‘No one important.’ She made a grab for the card and missed as Jackson lifted it tantalisingly just out of her reach. ‘Give it to me, Jackson.’

  ‘Not until you tell me who David is.’ He stood up slowly, keeping the card out of Bree’s grasp. ‘I don’t know what’s happened to you, Bree.’ He shook his head mockingly. ‘Dinner with Roger Tyler last night. A Christmas card from another man called David today. I had no idea you had such a hectic social life!’

  Bree winced inwardly, noting that Jackson had missed out the part in between dinner with Roger and the card from David—namely, the part where he had kissed her!

  She hadn’t been able to believe it herself either, when she’d opened the envelope addressed to her and found a Christmas card from David inside!

  The day that Bree had found him and Cathy in bed together David had come to her parents’ house and tried to speak to her. He’d done the same thing again and again for days, and each time Bree had refused to see him. There had been absolutely nothing she wished to say to him after seeing him with Cathy, both naked in her bed—the same bed she and David had planned to share after their wedding!

  The Christmas card that Jackson now held out of reach so tormentingly was the first communication Bree had received from David since she had written to him a year ago, informing him that she had cancelled their wedding and never wished to see him again.

  Bree knew from visiting her parents that the affair between David and Cathy—now divorced from her husband—was over. Her parents had told her about David’s frequent visits to their house to ask how Bree was. No doubt, she thought bitterly, her parents had seen nothing wrong in supplying him with her new address so that he could send her a Christmas card. And if Jackson hadn’t read the card Bree might have just accepted it as the olive branch it was obviously meant to be before dismissing it completely from her mind.

  ‘Bree?’ Jackson prompted sharply, deeply concerned at how pale her face had become. ‘Who is David?’

  He wasn’t in the least reassured by the haunted expression in those smoky-grey eyes as Bree looked up at him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A SHUTTER CAME down quickly over those expressive grey eyes as Bree moved sharply back towards her seat, putting the width of her desk between them.

  ‘And would your lunch today with Miss Greaves be business or pleasure?’ she enquired icily, looking up at Jackson in a direct challenge.

  His eyes narrowed to sky-blue slits. ‘I don’t see what that has to do with anything.’

  ‘No?’ Bree raised cynical brows.

  ‘No,’ Jackson bit out sharply. ‘It isn’t the same thing at all.’

  ‘It is in as much as your lunch today is no more my business than David’s role in my life is any of yours,’ she spat, her slender hands flat on the desktop.

  David’s role in Bree’s life?

  The two of them had worked together in harmony for almost a year now, though in the past two days Jackson knew that harmonious relationship had been blown completely and utterly to pieces. Some of it was his own fault; Jackson freely admitted that. He had been totally out of line last night in kissing Bree—let alone what followed.

  But where the hell had all these other men in her life come from so suddenly? Roger Tyler was obviously a relatively new acquaintance, but had this David been around all the time and Jackson just hadn’t known about it?

  And what if the other man had been in Bree’s life for some time? Why should that matter to Jackson?

  It didn’t! Or at least it only mattered in as much as it showed him that he didn’t know Bree as well as he’d thought...

  ‘I really don’t want to talk about this, Jackson,’ Bree said with finality.

  He continued to look at her searchingly for several long seconds before slowly lowering his arm to place the Christmas card down on the desk in front of Bree.

  ‘You’re right. It’s none of my business.’ He took a step backwards, exhaling deeply.

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured huskily.

  Jackson nodded tersely. ‘I won’t be back here today until after I’ve picked Danny up from school.’

  In other words, Bree guessed dully, Jackson’s lunch with Jennifer Greaves was going to last way beyond the time they spent in the restaurant together...

  And just what had Bree expected? Had she imagined that Jackson might cancel his lunch date with the beautiful supermodel after what had happened last night? Had Bree really thought there was ev
en a possibility of that happening?

  If so, why had she been so determined—even more determined than Jackson—to put the whole of last night behind them?

  The disappointment Bree felt at the very thought of Jackson spending the early afternoon in bed with Jennifer Greaves was totally illogical!

  Inexplicable...

  And it was certainly something she didn’t want Jackson to notice!

  She straightened determinedly. ‘In that case I won’t be here when you get back,’ she announced, adding in response to Jackson’s frown, ‘I’m taking the afternoon off to go Christmas shopping, remember?’

  Jackson had forgotten that earlier in the week Bree had asked whether she could take this afternoon off. As he had no appointments on this particular Friday afternoon, Jackson had been only too happy to agree to the half-day holiday. Following Bree’s reaction to his having seen her Christmas card from David, Jackson couldn’t help wondering if Bree intended to spend all of the afternoon Christmas shopping...

  ‘I seem to remember your saying yesterday that you would look after Beau during the day,’ he reminded her tersely.

  ‘This afternoon off was arranged before I made that agreement,’ she came back impatiently. ‘I’m sure Mrs Holmes won’t mind having Beau in the kitchen with her while I’m out.’

  ‘It would seem to be irrelevant whether she does or not,’ Jackson muttered bad-temperedly.

  Bree gave a sigh. ‘I’ll try to get back as quickly as I can, okay?’

  ‘I suppose it will have to be.’

  She grimaced at his unreasonableness. ‘You’ll be late for your appointment with Lord Caxley if you don’t leave now,’ she said softly when Jackson made no move to go. ‘And don’t forget to take the Christmas present for Danny’s teacher with you.’

  Jackson frowned down at her in frustration for several long seconds, aware that he had to leave now or, as Bree said, he’d be late for his appointment with Caxley. He knew he was only delaying because he still felt unsettled by the strained atmosphere that now existed between himself and Bree. He felt as if there ought to be something he could do or say to take away that tension. But he had no idea what that something might be!

  Oh, to hell with it! He would talk to Bree again later this evening and try to sort the whole mess out then.

  The telephone on Bree’s desk began to ring.

  ‘Bye, then, Jackson,’ she said tightly, reaching for the mobile.

  Jackson had absolutely no intention of going anywhere until he found out who the call was from, knowing it could be Roger Tyler or the mysterious David. Or it could be neither of them, Jackson acknowledged, reproaching himself.

  ‘Oh, hello, Roger,’ Bree greeted brightly, even as she shot Jackson an irritated glance. ‘Just a minute, Roger.’ She put her hand over the mouthpiece and looked at Jackson enquiringly. ‘Is there something else I can help you with before you go...?’

  Jackson’s nostrils flared. ‘I guess Tyler does know what nine o’clock in the morning looks like after all!’ he growled.

  The other man had certainly been quick enough off the mark in calling Bree today! Not that Jackson was in the least surprised. Bree had looked beautiful last night. She was also warm, with a dry sense of humour that made her fun to be with, and—damn it! Damn, damn, damn it!

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ he rasped harshly when Bree gave no reply to his taunt, striding out into the hallway and picking up the gaily wrapped Christmas present for Danny’s teacher from the hall table before leaving.

  Well, he hadn’t so much left the house as slammed out of it, Jackson recognised with a self-disgusted wince as he slid behind the wheel of his sleek black sports car.

  What the hell was the matter with him today?

  Bree was the matter, came the instant reply. Bree and the two men who had suddenly appeared in her life and now vied for her attention.

  Attention Jackson realised he wasn’t at all happy to share...

  * * *

  BREE WAS TIRED and bad-tempered by the time she struggled back from the hot, crowded shops later that evening, loaded down with bags.

  She’d only had a few Christmas presents to buy—things for her parents, Danny and Jackson, and a little something for Mrs Holmes—and after only an hour in the shops she had managed to find suitable presents for everyone except Jackson.

  Jackson.

  Bree had absolutely no idea what to buy for the man who had everything—and what he didn’t have he could easily go out and buy!

  No—it wasn’t just that, Bree acknowledged wearily as she removed her shoes before putting the kettle on for a much-needed cup of tea. It was the change in her relationship with Jackson that was causing the problem—not Bree having no idea what to buy him. The previous month she had chosen a nice sweater to give him for his birthday without any trouble whatsoever. The previous month. Now it wasn’t so easy to choose something suitable.

  She couldn’t buy Jackson another jumper, and he didn’t wear formal shirts unless he absolutely had to—and even then he had pure silk ones specially made. A book seemed too impersonal. As did aftershave.

  After three more hours of wandering fruitlessly around the shops Bree had had to admit defeat: she simply had no idea what to get Jackson for Christmas!

  Now, in the emptiness of her apartment, she briefly wished that she had accepted Roger Tyler’s second invitation to dinner. But only briefly. She had enjoyed his company the evening before, but not enough to encourage him by going out with him again tonight. Her life already seemed complicated enough without—

  ‘What on earth...?’

  Bree hurried out into the hallway. After the briefest of knocks, the internal door to her apartment had been slammed open with such force that it crashed into the wall before springing back again.

  Jackson easily caught the edge of the door as it rebounded, his expression grim as he glared down the hallway at her.

  ‘It’s about time you got back!’ he snarled accusingly.

  Bree recoiled slightly from the vehemence of his tone.

  ‘I was only gone a couple of hours—’

  ‘And while you’ve been out enjoying yourself the whole household has been in uproar!’ Jackson roared, stepping into the apartment and closing the door firmly behind him before striding purposefully down the hallway, muscles flexing beneath his fitted black T-shirt and faded denims.

  Bree 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?