A Puppy for Christmas: On the Secretary's Christmas List / The Patter of Paws at Christmas / The Soldier, the Puppy and Me

His tongue stroked intimately against hers, evoking an explosion of pleasure, an aching response deep inside Bree. She felt heat burning between her thighs. Her breasts swelled and her nipples hardened as they pressed against the material of her dress, and she became fully aware of the hard throb of Jackson’s answering arousal as his hands cupped her bottom to pull her up and into him.

A hard and throbbing arousal that was entirely in response to her, Sabrina Jones!

Bree felt empowered by that realisation, moving her hands up as she gave in to the temptation to entangle her fingers in that honey-and-molasses hair, finding it just as she had always imagined it would be: thick and long and silkily soft, and so—

As she had always imagined it would be …?

She had imagined something like this happening between herself and Jackson?

Since when?

What—?

All thoughts fled—Bree even forgot to breathe—as Jackson’s hand cupped her breast before his questing fingers sought the swollen tip.

Bree gasped as Jackson’s lips left hers and his other hand moved to twist the long waves of her hair in his fingers. He arched her neck back, exposing it to his lips, teeth lightly nipping the lobe of her ear, before he softly kissed the swell of her breasts.

‘Your skin is like velvet!’ Jackson groaned.

His lips found her aching nipple through the silky material of her dress, his tongue stroking intense heat through the fabric to her breast for long, pleasurable seconds before he clamped his lips around her nipple and pulled it deep into the heat of his mouth.

An almost unbearable burning coursed through Bree’s body as she gazed down at him, his lashes long and thick against his sculpted cheekbones. His hand moved to cup her other breast, the soft pad of his thumb rubbing against the nipple in the same rhythmic caress. Raging fire burned between Bree’s thighs and she felt herself swelling and moistening there in a deep and aching throb that beat with the same rapidity as her heart.

She realised that it was Jackson kissing and caressing her so intimately!

Jackson of the wild and dangerous good looks. Jackson of the lean and muscled body. Jackson who had to be every woman’s wildest fantasy in the flesh. Jackson who could—and did—have any woman he wanted.

But at the moment he seemed to want Bree.

At the moment.

Chilling reality hit Bree with the force of a physical blow, erasing all pleasure, all arousal, as she acknowledged that this couldn’t—shouldn’t!—be happening. Not between herself and Jackson, of all people!

She knew for a fact that Jackson never became involved with the women in his working life. Not the models he occasionally used for commercial photo shoots, and certainly not his assistants. He had several times stated—as a warning, perhaps?—that he wouldn’t work alongside any woman with whom he had been intimately involved.

Tonight could definitely be described as intimate involvement.

How on earth was Bree going to extract herself from this explosive situation without also finding herself out of a job?

CHAPTER FIVE

‘JACKSON, is it possible that you’ve been drinking?’

‘What—?’ Jackson staggered backwards, dazed, as Bree pushed him away with a suddenness he hadn’t been expecting, before turning her back on him to rearrange her dress.

Expecting?

Hell, Jackson hadn’t been expecting a single thing about the way he had reacted to Bree this evening!

Not the way she looked with that beautiful waist-length hair loose about her shoulders. Not how sexy that thin scrap of a dress was, leaving so little to the imagination. Not the lure of those smoky-grey eyes. He certainly hadn’t expected her to taste and feel so good. Or the way she’d responded so readily to the caress of his lips and hands on her soft, creamy flesh …

And Jackson hadn’t expected to become aroused just by looking at her—nor the fact that he was still aroused, his shaft a hard and throbbing ache against his denims!

In spite of the accusatory way Bree was now glowering at him.

‘Have I been drinking?’ Jackson repeated harshly, stepping away and running a hand through the tousled length of his hair. ‘You’re the one who walked in here a few minutes ago looking like some slinky femme fatale from a forties movie!’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s just a dress, Jackson. You’ve been photographed with dozens of women wearing far less than I am tonight!’ she added defiantly.

And truthfully, Jackson admitted with a dark frown. In fact Bree’s dress could be called modest in comparison with some of the evening dresses he had seen on other women. Except those other women weren’t Bree!

What the hell was wrong with him this evening? He had worked alongside Bree for almost a year now without so much as a single sexual thought.

Well … maybe the odd thought. But he wouldn’t be a healthy thirty-four-year-old man if he didn’t have the occasional fantasy about an attractive twenty-six-year-old woman, whether she worked for him or not!

Yet he was now totally physically aware of Bree.

Because he didn’t like the idea of her spending the evening with another man?

Or because of that small but tangible difference he had sensed in Bree today?

There was absolutely no reason why it should matter to Jackson if Bree went on a date, so it had to be the difference in her that had ignited this physical awareness.

But it was a physical awareness he must have been out of his mind to act upon.

‘I still can’t believe you went out in that dress!’ Jackson was more comfortable on the attack than on the defensive.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Jackson,’ Bree snapped irritably.

‘It’s positively indecent!’

‘Roger didn’t seem to find anything wrong with it!’

‘I don’t—Roger Tyler?’ Jackson gaped. ‘Your dinner date this evening was with Roger Tyler?’

‘That’s right,’ she replied coolly. ‘And I must say that, unlike some people I could mention, he behaved like the perfect gentleman all evening.’

‘Roger Tyler was the man you went out to dinner with this evening …’ Jackson repeated, as if to himself.

It was a little difficult for him to comprehend the fact that his assistant—a woman who hadn’t been out on a single date since she’d begun working for him—had just spent the evening with one of the most infamous womanisers in the public eye.

Damn it—of all men, Bree had been out with the reprehensible Roger Tyler!

Jackson’s eyes narrowed ominously as he sat down on the arm of the chair. ‘And exactly how did that come about?’

Bree shrugged her shoulders. ‘He arrived for his two o’clock appointment, after all.’

The muscles in Jackson’s jaw clenched. ‘And the two of you enjoyed a pleasant hour or so chatting, no doubt?’

‘More like half an hour, since we’re splitting hairs,’ she replied sharply.

‘Long enough, in any case, for the man to invite you out on a date!’ Jackson growled.

Bree stuck out her chin challengingly. ‘Is there some unwritten rule I’m not aware of that prevents your assistant from dating any of your clients?’

Jackson hesitated, frowning. ‘Not exactly, no …’

‘Then what exactly is your problem, Jackson?’ Bree demanded, hands on hips.

In spite of her earlier apprehension about the dinner date, Bree had actually enjoyed Roger Tyler’s company this evening. Besides his obvious good looks and confidence, he was amusing and fun to be with, and not at all the egomaniac she had expected him to be. He had been charming and attentive all evening: the ‘perfect gentleman’ Bree had claimed him to be, in fact.

The restaurant where they had eaten dinner was obviously an exclusive one—the fact that there had been no prices on the menu confirmed that!—and Bree had tried hard not to stare at any of the other diners, many of whom she’d recognised from either the big or the small screen. The food and wine had been delicious, the service unobtrusive, and the company more pleasant and entertaining than Bree could ever have imagined. All in all it had been a surprisingly relaxing and enjoyable way to spend the evening.

Until her return to Beaumont House and this awful scene with Jackson. Well … the first part of it hadn’t been awful at all, but the aftermath was certainly far from pleasant!

She would never admit as much to Jackson, but she was still reeling from her response to him just now. It had been an out-of-control response that was totally at odds with her usual reserve. An out-of-control response that Bree had never felt in the arms of the man she had planned to marry a year ago …

‘Do you intend to see Tyler again?’ Jackson enquired coldly.

‘I don’t believe—’

‘And don’t even think about telling me it’s none of my business who you go out with!’ he growled warningly. ‘You’re my assistant and Roger Tyler is my client—of course it’s my business if the two of you are now dating!’

Was it? Bree wondered. Or was Jackson just being difficult?

Bree had only brought Roger Tyler into the conversation at all because she’d thought attack might be the best form of defence in what had become a very awkward situation. But perhaps in retrospect she would have been wiser not to mention that Roger Tyler had been her date this evening!

She grimaced, frustrated. ‘We aren’t dating. We’ve just been out to dinner together.’

‘And I asked if you intend to see him again,’ Jackson repeated evenly.

Bree sighed heavily before answering. ‘He said he would call me tomorrow.’

‘And?’

Bree was so annoyed by the interrogation she almost stamped her foot. ‘And if he does call tomorrow and wants to see me again I’ll decide then and there whether or not I want to see him!’

Jackson barely managed to bite back his frustration.

Just why the hell should it matter to him if Bree had finally decided to come out of her shell and start dating?

It shouldn’t. As he had told himself earlier today, Bree was as entitled to a private life as he was.

Except Jackson had just kissed her.

He had acted against every self-imposed rule he’d ever had concerning his assistants. Against every instinct telling him not to ruin a good thing when he found it: namely, the best damn assistant he had ever had!

Damn, damn, damn!

He rubbed his temples, trying to rein in his anger. ‘Do you actually like Tyler?’

Bree raised cool brows. ‘Well, obviously—seeing as I’ve just spent the evening with him.’

Jackson paused to let his irritation subside. The woman could be so infuriating!

‘No. I meant do you really like him?’

She shook her head impatiently. ‘I know what you meant, Jackson—and, again, I don’t consider that to be any of your business. I certainly don’t need some big brother figure breathing down my neck, checking up on every man I choose to go out with!’

Big brother? Jackson had just almost made love to her, damn it! He could still see the damp patch on Bree’s dress where his mouth had been exploring only moments earlier!

The memory instantly reawakened the aching throb in Jackson’s jeans—and the fact that he was sitting down made it all the more painful!

He stood up abruptly, in the hope of easing that burning ache, and realised immediately how obvious his arousal was against his denims.

‘Perhaps it’s time you returned to your apartment?’ he suggested abruptly, his tone clipped. ‘We can talk about this again in the morning.’

‘I don’t think so, Jackson,’ Bree replied firmly.

He rolled his eyes. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that I am your employee, Jackson—that’s where my responsibilities begin and end. As such, I don’t believe I have to answer to you for anything I might choose to do in my private life!’

Jackson tightened his jaw in an effort to stop himself from giving Bree the reply she deserved: what the hell had just happened between the two of them if Bree was just an employee?

Damned if he knew.

And it was probably best if it remained that way. Kissing Bree in the first place had been a mistake on Jackson’s part. Almost making love to her had been an even bigger one. It would be better all round if they both tried to forget it had ever happened.

If either of them could forget.

‘You’re right: it is time I went to my apartment,’ Bree agreed suddenly, still totally unsettled by their argument over Roger Tyler—not to mention the fact that she and Jackson had almost made love just now!

A fact that would definitely make it difficult for the two of them to work together in future.

Was that the only thing worrying her about this evening? Whether or not she and Jackson would be able to continue working together?

Bree didn’t dare to think about the reasons why she and Jackson had almost made love.

‘Fine. I’ll see you in the morning.’ Jackson nodded curtly and looked away, a frown darkening his brow.

A similar frown remained on Bree’s brow long after she had returned to her apartment.

CHAPTER SIX

‘GOOD morning, Bree! And how are you on this—?’

Jackson’s deliberately cheery greeting was cut off abruptly as he entered Bree’s office the following morning, after dropping Danny off at school. A small bundle of dark grey and white fur rushed across the room, becoming entangled in his legs and almost tripping him up in the process.

‘Damn it, Beau!’ Jackson regained his balance, bending down to pick up the squirming puppy before he could cause any more mayhem.

So much for Jackson’s bright and breezy entrance!

He had debated long and hard with himself as he’d stood in front of the mirror shaving this morning, considering the best way to behave towards Bree today. They had stepped over an imaginary but definitive line between work colleagues and lovers—a line Jackson had only yesterday told himself must never be crossed if he and Bree were to continue working together …

Never be crossed? Last night Jackson had trampled it completely underfoot in his haste to kiss Bree!

The memory of which had not been in the least conducive to his having a dreamless and trouble-free sleep …

In fact Jackson hadn’t slept well at all, as his reflection in the mirror had confirmed: he had dark circles under his eyes and a grim expression on his face. The dark circles wouldn’t fade until he’d had a decent night’s sleep, but the grim expression definitely had to go! Hence his attempt at a hearty good morning—an attempt that had been totally ruined by Beau’s exuberant greeting.

‘He likes you!’ Bree put down the Christmas card she’d been reading, chuckling softly as the puppy licked Jackson’s chin enthusiastically. ‘Or not,’ she added when Beau sneezed loudly, his expression one of doggy surprise.

‘I think it’s my aftershave he doesn’t like,’ Jackson remarked distastefully, before putting the puppy back down onto the carpeted floor.

‘Probably,’ Bree agreed, suddenly feeling shy and more than a little embarrassed by memories of the previous evening’s intimacy. Now that Jackson had had the whole night to think about it, Bree was half worried that he might have decided to tell her they could no longer work together.

Which would be awful.

Worse than awful!

She liked working and living here. More than that, Bree had realised whilst lying sleepless in bed the previous night, Jackson and Danny had become like family to her. This was no doubt partly due to the still-strained relationship between Bree and her own family. But, whatever the reason, Bree couldn’t bear the idea of being asked to leave, of never seeing Jackson or Danny again …

The events of last night meant she might not be given any choice in the matter!

Bree still had no explanation for what had happened. One minute they had been talking and the next … The next was the part Bree had no explanation for. Jackson kissing her. And her own response to those kisses.

Bree had never thought of herself as a sensual being. She’d had no reason to think of herself that way—having feelings like the ones Jackson had incited the previous night had never happened to her before!

She and David had started going out together during their last year of university. Casual dates, mainly, to the cinema or out for a pizza. After graduating they had lost touch for a year or so, then met up again at a party given by a mutual friend. David, by then a stockbroker, had invited Bree out to dinner. After that they had dated regularly, and got engaged on Bree’s twenty-fifth birthday. They had arranged their wedding for the following Christmas.

Never in all the years that Bree had known David had she been as excited by his kisses, as aroused by his caresses, as she had been in Jackson’s arms the night before!

Which meant precisely what?

That she had somehow become a sensual being in the last year?

Or that she hadn’t loved David as much as she thought she had?

Certainly Bree had never felt the thrum of excitement in David’s company that she felt again now, just from looking at Jackson and remembering their intimacies of the night before!

Her mouth firmed resolutely and she looked down at the open appointment book on her desk.

‘You have a meeting with Lord Caxley at ten o’clock this morning, a lunch date with Jennifer Greaves, and as it’s Danny’s last day of school before the Christmas holidays there’s a present for his teacher on the—’

‘What happened to “Good morning, Jackson”?’ he cut in derisively, leaning against the side of her desk and looking down at her with teasing blue eyes.

Too close! Jackson was standing far too close to her. So close, in fact, that Bree could feel the heat his body exuded through the white T-shirt and faded blue denims; she could smell the aftershave that had so disagreed with Beau a few minutes ago, and the more earthy, male smell of clean skin and the lemon shampoo Jackson must have used on his hair.

The same golden honey-and-molasses hair that Bree had threaded her fingers through the night before as Jackson’s mouth latched onto her breast—

Oh, dear Lord! What was happening to her?

She wasn’t this person. Had never been this person. And Bree didn’t want to be the sort of person whose breasts swelled, nipples hardening, as a hot rush of moisture burned between her legs, prompted simply by the close proximity of a man! And not just any man, either. Jerome Jackson Beaumont, to be precise.

But Bree couldn’t deny that she was feeling all of those things now. Her fingers gripped the edge of her desk and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair, an urgent throbbing between her thighs, her breasts tingling, the nipples hard and ultrasensitive against the soft material of her bra.

‘Bree …?’

She drew in a ragged breath, forcing her fingers to relax their grip on the desk, before looking up at Jackson from beneath long dark lashes, trying in vain to remember what they had been talking about.

‘I thought you would want to know what appointments you have lined up for today,’ she explained quietly.

Jackson looked down searchingly into Bree’s smoky-grey eyes, not in the least reassured by the way her gaze avoided his. As he had feared, something had changed, shifted, in their relationship. But was it to the point where they really couldn’t continue working together?

Jackson felt a sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of that happening. Was that because he didn’t want to have to go to the trouble of training another personal assistant? Or was there something else?

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!