A Puppy for Christmas Read online

‘You—I—you complete bastard,’ she finally spat out forcefully. ‘You absolute one-hundred-percent bastard!’

  With one last disgusted look in Jackson’s direction Bree turned on her heel and strode forcefully from the room and down the hallway, slamming the door of the apartment behind her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘IT’S CHRISTMAS EVE, Bree; surely you aren’t going to keep up this stilted politeness all over Christmas?’

  Bree shot Jackson a brief glance from where she sat behind her desk, opening the post on Wednesday morning, with snow falling steadily outside the window behind her.

  ‘I can’t see that being a problem when I have no intention of being at Beaumont House over Christmas.’

  ‘What?’ Jackson exclaimed in surprise, crossing the room to her desk in three long strides.

  Bree remained unruffled as he towered over her ominously. ‘I’m not going to be here for Christmas,’ she repeated evenly.

  Jackson was dumbfounded. ‘Since when?’

  Bree gazed at him steadily. ‘Since I decided not to be,’ she explained with cool nonchalance.

  Jackson shook his head in frustration. ‘If this is because of the other evening—’

  ‘I have no wish to discuss Friday evening with you, Jackson. Now or at any other time,’ she interrupted in a brisk, businesslike tone, her back stiff and unyielding.

  Jackson had put up with four days of this treatment from Bree. Admittedly it hadn’t been too much of a problem over the weekend—Jackson had decided that it was probably best to leave Bree to her own devices once she had refused his invitations to accompany him and Danny to a pantomime on Saturday and ice-skating on Sunday. But the past two days in the office had been damned uncomfortable as Bree continued to give Jackson the cold shoulder, not speaking to him unless she absolutely had to, and even then only in the briefest of terms.

  He gave an impatient sigh. ‘Damn it, I’ve apologised to you; what more do you want from me?’

  Bree stood up, turning her back on Jackson as she put a letter away in the filing cabinet. Yes, Jackson had apologised to her for his behaviour on Friday evening—and it had been one of the most embarrassing conversations of her life! Especially when Bree had had no idea whether Jackson was apologising for not telling her earlier about David’s presence upstairs, or whether he was apologising for making love to her!

  Bree cringed with embarrassment every time she so much as thought of that time with Jackson. Of the intimacies they had shared. Of her complete loss of control...

  She had never—ever—behaved like that before. And she very much doubted that she would do so again.

  Because she had realised that she was in love with Jackson.

  Totally and irrevocably.

  Ironically, the truth of her feelings had hit Bree as she and David had sat talking in the bar they had gone to on Friday evening, once Bree had told him she would prefer to go out. Jackson had still been downstairs in her apartment, and there was nowhere private enough for them to talk in the main house.

  She had looked across at David as they’d sat together, two untouched glasses of white wine on the table in front of them, and acknowledged that he was still as dark and handsome and charming as he had ever been—and she had known without a doubt that she felt absolutely nothing for him.

  She had always thought if she ever saw David again that the pain of his betrayal would return. Instead, as Bree had listened to him telling her that he still loved her, begging her to give him another chance, she had realised that she felt nothing. No residual anger. No hurt. No disappointment. No love. Not even mild affection. Just a vast wasteland of emotion that she had been as eager to escape as she had been keen to get away from the man himself.

  It was a realisation that had saddened Bree more than anything else. A year ago she had wanted to marry David. A year ago she had believed she loved him, and that her heart had been broken when she’d discovered he was having an affair with her own sister.

  But a year ago Bree hadn’t known Jerome Jackson Beaumont. Or fallen in love with him...

  She knew herself to be in love with him now. And it was a love so futile that it made the pained disillusionment of a year ago pale into total insignificance.

  ‘Are you going away with David?’ Jackson rasped harshly into the silence that had fallen over the room.

  It was an uncomfortable, dead silence that made Jackson want to say something, do something—anything to shock Bree out of the coldness she had shown towards him over the past four days!

  She turned around to face him, her expression coolly remote. ‘Not that it’s any of your business but, no, David and I have no intention of meeting again.’

  Jackson breathed an inward sigh of relief for that small mercy at least. ‘Then perhaps Roger Tyler...?’

  Bree raised derisive brows. ‘Don’t be absurd. Again, it’s none of your business, but the answer to that is also no.’

  Jackson’s mouth thinned with frustration. ‘Then where the hell are you going?’

  She shrugged, crossing the room to return to her desk. ‘I haven’t made any definite plans yet.’

  ‘Then why go anywhere?’ Jackson scowled. ‘Danny is expecting you to spend the holidays with us,’ he added petulantly.

  Bree gave a rueful smile. ‘Now who’s using the D-word as emotional leverage?’

  Jackson wasn’t averse to using whatever leverage was necessary, emotional or otherwise, if it meant that Bree would spend Christmas with them.

  ‘Well?’ he prompted tersely.

  She gave a sigh. ‘I do have a family of my own, you know.’

  ‘No, I don’t know!’ Jackson snapped with impatience. ‘How could I, when you’ve never talked about any of them?’

  ‘There hasn’t been any reason for me to do so before now.’ Bree shrugged.

  Jackson narrowed his blue eyes in speculation. ‘And what’s happened to change that?’

  The change, as Jackson called it, was all within Bree. The revelation of her complete lack of emotion towards David—a lack of emotion which had allowed Bree gently but firmly to turn down his pleas for reconciliation—had helped her to realise that she no longer harboured any anger towards her sister either; hurt and disappointment, yes, but not anger. In fact Bree’s newfound feelings for Jackson meant that she might even owe Cathy a debt of gratitude for saving her from a marriage that would ultimately have been pleasant at best and a disaster at worst!

  As it was, Bree had decided that it was time to put the past behind her; her heart had moved on without her mind even realising it, and it was time for her to do the same. As such, she was toying with the idea of going to visit her parents for Christmas, and at the same time making her peace with Cathy.

  ‘Nothing has changed, Jackson,’ she said.

  ‘Hmm...’ Jackson didn’t believe her. He knew that even though he had apologised Bree was still angry with him. And with good reason. Jackson had behaved badly on Friday evening. His only excuse was that he had felt threatened by the advent of first Roger Tyler in Bree’s life and then the arrival of David from her past. A past she resolutely refused to share with him.

  A past Bree could have no reason to want to share with him when he had been just as reticent about his own history...

  ‘Believe it or not, Jackson, it’s normal to want to spend Christmas with your family,’ Bree remarked sardonically.

  ‘I’ve had the increasing impression throughout the year that you think of Danny as part of your family.’

  ‘I do,’ she confirmed sadly.

  ‘But not me?’

  She felt colour warm her cheeks. ‘Jackson, you have your own family—’

  ‘Try telling my mother that!’ He grimaced in distaste.

  Bree felt relieved at the change of subject. ‘Have you and
Clarissa ever been close?’

  ‘Once upon a time, yes,’ Jackson acknowledged gruffly. ‘Before my sister...before Jocelyn died.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’ Bree frowned.

  ‘Why didn’t you?’ Jackson eyed her in frustration, not sure why he was so angry with Bree, only knowing that he was. ‘Doesn’t my behaviour on Friday evening give you the right to ask me whatever questions you damn well please?’

  Bree looked pained. ‘I thought we had agreed, during your apology, that it would be better if we didn’t refer to that incident again?’

  Jackson shook his head violently as he began to pace the room. He felt restless and frustrated.

  ‘I think we can safely say that we’ve tried doing that and it obviously isn’t working!’

  Bree avoided that piercing blue gaze. ‘Jackson, I really would prefer not to—’

  ‘We’re way past what you would prefer, Bree,’ he snapped harshly. ‘Way past.’

  He stopped pacing and looked at her with a directness that made her blush.

  ‘In fact, I think it’s time we shared a few truths about our respective pasts.’

  Bree eyed him uncertainly, not sure if she wanted to have this conversation; not sure if the fragile shield behind which she had managed to hide her feelings for Jackson could cope with the two of them revealing ‘a few truths’ to each other!

  She licked her lips nervously. ‘I don’t think, if we’re to continue working together, that sort of honesty between the two of us is completely necessary, Jackson—’

  ‘It’s very necessary!’ He leaned forward across the desk until his face was only inches away from Bree’s, the warmth of his breath a soft caress against her cheeks. ‘In fact I believe that if we don’t have this conversation and at least try to clear the air between us we won’t be able to continue working together at all!’

  Quite what Bree would have said in answer to that disturbing statement she wasn’t altogether sure; in any case she was spared the trouble as a knock sounded on the office door.

  Jackson’s nostrils flared with frustration and impatience as he straightened up.

  ‘Yes?’ he roared in the direction of the door.

  Mrs Holmes opened the door and smiled across the room at him. ‘You asked me to let you know when Danny and I had finished baking cookies, Mr Beaumont, so that you could take him and Beau out into the garden,’ she reminded him brightly.

  Jackson let out a deep, controlled breath. ‘So I did,’ he acknowledged lightly. ‘I’ll come through in a couple of minutes,’ he added, waiting until the housekeeper had left before turning back to Bree, his expression hard and unyielding.

  ‘It’s Christmas Eve and I promised Danny I would build a snowman with him. Do you want to come outside in the snow with us?’

  Bree wasn’t sure what she wanted to do after hearing Jackson’s shocking statement about them not being able to continue working together if they didn’t clear the air between them.

  Except she knew that she didn’t want to go outside with Jackson—let alone Danny and Beau. Jackson was right: she did think of Danny and Beau as part of her family. And Jackson too. So how could she go outside with any of them when she could barely breathe, when her heart felt as if it were being squeezed in her chest at the mere thought of Jackson asking her to leave? She did need to get out of here, though. To distance herself—and most of all to be alone.

  ‘Probably not,’ Jackson answered himself drily. ‘Just don’t try leaving for the holidays before I come back in, Bree,’ he warned softly, as if guessing that might be her intention. ‘This conversation is very far from over,’ he added grimly, before following Mrs Holmes down the hallway.

  Bree felt totally numb as she stood up and stared bleakly outside into the garden, not seeing the snow that still fell lightly, or the beautiful white landscape it had produced. Her thoughts were totally turned inwards as she became lost in the miserable possibility of having to leave Beaumont House. Having to leave Jackson.

  She was vaguely aware of Danny’s excited chatter and Beau’s equally excited barking outside in the hall as father and son put on warm outdoor clothing together. The back door of the house slammed shut behind them moments later, before they reappeared in the garden outside the office window and began to pelt each other with snowballs. She watched as Danny fell into a fit of giggles when Beau, rushing to defend his young master, attacked Jackson’s ankles and unbalanced him, causing him to fall over into the soft snow. His response to the hoots of laughter was to pull Danny down with him, and the two of them rolled about in the snow together as he began to tickle the little boy.

  Alone inside the office, Bree could only look on silently at the magical family scene outside as the snow fell gently on father, son and the fluffy little puppy playing so happily together.

  Her family.

  She stepped back from the window abruptly, her face paling as she realised that without her even becoming aware of it Jackson and Danny truly had become her family this year.

  But it was a family she could never rightfully claim as her own.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘I THOUGHT I told you not to even try leaving here until the two of us had finished our conversation!’ Jackson roared furiously as he slammed the door to Bree’s apartment behind him. Bree herself was tossed over his shoulder as he strode purposefully down the hallway.

  ‘Put me down this instant, Jackson!’ Her protest was as violent as the fists she pounded against his back. ‘How dare you—?’

  ‘How dare you?’

  Jackson didn’t even break stride as he kicked open the door to her bedroom, a nerve pulsing in his clenched jaw, his expression grim and his eyes bleak as he recalled the lurching feeling in his chest when he had heard the sound of Bree’s car starting up in the garage. He and Danny had been sitting together in the kitchen, drinking hot chocolate to warm up after being out in the snow for over an hour.

  ‘You simply can’t manhandle me in this ridiculous way—’

  ‘Too late—I just did!’ Jackson threw her unceremoniously down onto her bed and stood glowering down at her. ‘Where did you think you were going?’ he demanded through gritted teeth.

  Bree glared back at him just as angrily as she struggled to sit up. ‘Just for a drive, if you must know—’

  ‘Oh, I believe I must, Bree.’ His voice was dangerously soft.

  This was a danger that Bree recognised—even if she had no intention of responding to it after the sheer indignity of having the ignition of her car switched off and the keys deposited in the pocket of Jackson’s jeans, of being hauled out and thrown over Jackson’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried down to her apartment before being dumped unceremoniously onto her bed! She was far too angry to heed the warning signs.

  ‘Don’t move,’ Jackson bit out harshly as Bree tried to get up.

  Her eyes flashed darkly. ‘Maybe someone should have told you that the time of the caveman is long past—’

  ‘Maybe someone should have told you not to push your luck,’ he warned, putting one knee on the side of the bed.

  ‘I—what are you doing?’ Bree attempted to scoot across to the other side of the bed as Jackson loomed over her ominously.

  ‘Guess!’ He smiled humourlessly and his hand grasped her leg, preventing her from moving any further away.

  ‘Jackson...?’ Bree eyed him warily as he knelt fully on the bed before nudging her legs apart. She was barely breathing, and certainly unable to move as he lowered himself in between her denim-clad thighs, taking his weight on his elbows as he looked down at her. ‘Danny is—’

  ‘Danny is perfectly happy upstairs in the kitchen with Mrs Holmes.’

  Jackson’s face was so close to hers that his breath stirred the hair at her temples.

  She sw
allowed hard, very aware—how could she not be?—of the heat of Jackson’s arousal nestled between her thighs. ‘I—I don’t think this is sensible, Jackson—’

  ‘I’ve tried being sensible for the past four days!’ he exploded. ‘For all the good it did me!’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘You’ve barely been able to look at me, let alone speak to me! So to hell with being sensible, Bree,’ he finished grimly. ‘I want answers and I want them now. And once I have them I’m going to make love to you until you don’t have the strength to move, let alone think about leaving!’

  Bree breathed shallowly, knowing by the glittering intensity in Jackson’s eyes that he meant exactly what he said.

  ‘I don’t understand...’

  ‘You will,’ Jackson promised grimly. ‘Now, I want to know exactly why David came here to see you on Friday.’ He gasped with arousal as she ran the tip of her tongue across her lips. ‘And it might be better for all concerned if you didn’t do that, Bree...’

  Bree’s cheeks warmed as she felt once again the throb of Jackson’s arousal between her thighs.

  ‘David is—I was engaged to him. A year ago we should have been married.’

  ‘Why weren’t you?’ Jackson’s voice was hushed.

  Bree grimaced. ‘Because I found out a week before the wedding that he was having an affair with someone else. My own sister, as it happens.’

  ‘Holy—’ Jackson stopped himself, scowling darkly, his gaze once again sharpening in intensity. ‘This all happened a year ago, you said...?’

  She nodded. ‘It was the anniversary of our supposed wedding day last Thursday.’

  The same day Jackson had noticed a difference in Bree—that new recklessness, as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff and about to jump...

  Jackson’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why did he come to see you?’

  Bree smiled ruefully. ‘He thought that a year was probably enough time for me to have forgiven him—’

  Jackson drew in a sharp breath. ‘And was it?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Bree confirmed, knowing she had only been able to feel that forgiveness because of the way she now felt about Jackson. She was in love with him. And it was a love totally unlike anything she might once have felt for David.