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

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 even 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?

She shook her head slowly. ‘Marrying for those reasons would be completely wrong—for both of you.’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’ Jackson nodded. ‘Which is why I would never consider marrying any woman who couldn’t accept and love Danny as I do.’

Bree grimaced. ‘It’s really none of my business, is it?’

No, it wasn’t, and if Jackson hadn’t had such a lousy day so far maybe he wouldn’t be talking about it now either.

Jennifer had been her usual charming and beautiful self, and she’d made it obvious throughout lunch that she was expecting them to spend a couple of hours in bed together afterwards. Ordinarily Jackson would have been only too happy to oblige—as he had several times in the past.

But not today.

Today Jackson hadn’t been able to work up even a spark of enthusiasm for making love with Jennifer. In fact he’d felt quite the opposite; just the thought of her tall and willowy body had been a complete turn-off when compared to the softness of Bree’s body. A body that Jackson had found himself thinking about far too often during a lunch date with one of the most beautiful women in the world.

He looked at Bree now, attentively and appraisingly. She looked adorable, despite the weariness from her shopping trip evident in her expression. Several dark wavy strands of hair had escaped their confines to curl wispily about her cheeks and throat. The blue jeans she wore moulded perfectly to the slenderness of her hips and bottom; a blue sweater clearly outlined the curve of her breasts.

In spite of that weariness and untidiness Jackson knew he found Bree’s natural beauty infinitely more appealing than he had found Jennifer Greaves’s ultra-perfect looks!

Bree looked pained. ‘You seemed to imply earlier that there had been more than one crisis since you got back,’ she reminded him carefully.

‘I did, didn’t I?’ He paced the room restlessly, his considerable height and the width of his shoulders dwarfing her cosy sitting room. And causing Bree’s heart to start pounding and her palms to dampen …

These conversations with Jackson were … unsettling. Particularly so when she found his rakish good looks and the barely leashed power of his lean and muscled body just so—so overwhelmingly male!

‘Well …?’ she prompted warily as he continued to pace.

His eyes glittered with displeasure as he turned to look at her. ‘You had a visitor earlier.’

‘I did?’ Bree’s wariness increased as she wondered who that visitor could possibly have been. Certainly not Roger; they had parted amicably enough on the telephone earlier. And on the rare occasions when she met with family or friends it was always in town or at one of their homes; Bree had certainly never invited anyone to visit her here at Beaumont House. She’d always preferred to keep her work and her private life completely separate. Although she and Jackson hadn’t been too successful at doing that lately!

‘Yes,’ Jackson bit out tersely.

Bree bristled at the censure she heard in his tone. ‘I trust I am allowed to have visitors here?’

‘Of course,’ he snapped.

‘Well? Aren’t you going to tell me who it was?’ she demanded impatiently—really, Jackson could be one of the most infuriating of men!

As well as one of the most dangerously attractive …

His was a dangerous and disturbing attractiveness that Bree had found herself thinking about far too much today. She’d thought about him as she’d worked that morning. She’d thought about him as she’d eaten a light lunch before going out. And as she’d wandered around the shops, searching in vain for his Christmas present, she’d thought—of course—of nothing but him.

The cocoon of emotional and physical numbness that Bree had wrapped herself in over the past year had, she realised, been forced wide open by the intensity of the previous night’s lovemaking with Jackson!

So much so that her senses were running riot with physical awareness just from being in his presence again. Jackson made her pulse race,

and the smell of him—clean and earthy, with the underlying musk of a male in his prime—sent shivers of sensation down her spine. Her hands—hands Bree now clasped firmly together behind her back—ached to reach out and touch him. All of him. From the impressive width of his shoulders to the hardness of his muscled chest and stomach, and lower still to his—

Oh, dear Lord!

Bree swayed slightly on her feet as the heat of desire rushed through her. Her whole body was feeling hot, her nipples tingling as they became engorged, that warmth seeming to burn as it ached between her thighs.

She sat down abruptly on the sofa—it was that or risk falling down!

Bree had always believed that going weak at the knees was just a romantic expression; now she knew it to be absolutely true. If she hadn’t sat down when she had, she would probably have collapsed in a heap at Jackson’s feet!

What was happening to her?

Whatever it was, it was distinctly uncomfortable! And totally, utterly stupid if she wanted to continue working for Jackson.

Which she did.

Just the thought of leaving—of never seeing Jackson again, of being separated from Danny—was enough to make Bree’s chest ache. And not in a pleasant way either!

‘What are you thinking about?’

Bree looked up at Jackson warily, her breath catching in her throat as he focused all the intensity of his glittering blue eyes on her. She moistened her lips nervously, averting her own gaze and looking into the flames of the gas fire.

‘I’m still waiting for you to answer my question,’ she said softly.

‘But that wasn’t what you were thinking about, was it?’ There was a quiet, knowing triumph in his voice as he spoke.

Colour warmed Bree’s cheeks even as she raised heavy dark lashes to look up at him. ‘You can’t possibly know that.’

‘Can’t I?’

‘No!’

He raised his eyebrows, taunting her. ‘I know that whatever you were thinking about it hardened your nipples!’

The colour deepened in Bree’s cheeks as she looked down self-consciously and saw the clear outline of her aroused nipples against the soft wool of her sweater. She closed her eyes, groaning inwardly with mortification.

‘Maybe you were imagining your visitor was Roger Tyler?’

‘Of course I wasn’t imagining that!’ Bree protested, looked up with a frown.

‘No?’ Jackson took a moment to savour her protest before his expression hardened again.

Was Bree even wearing a bra? If she was, then it was worse than useless at concealing the smooth curve of those full and tempting breasts, let alone the firm outline of her aroused nipples.

Nipples that Jackson ached to expose to the ministrations of his lips, tongue and teeth!

‘Who do you think it was if it wasn’t Tyler?’

‘I have absolutely no idea. Nor am I particularly interested—least of all in playing your childish little guessing games,’ she spat impatiently. ‘I think it’s time you left.’

‘I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who David is.’

‘David?’ She was completely taken aback. ‘Are you saying that my visitor was David?’

‘Would it matter to you if it was?’

Would it? Bree asked herself dazedly.

Last week—yesterday, even—the answer to that question might have been yes. But did it matter to her today, here and now, after what had happened with Jackson last night …?

CHAPTER NINE

BREE’S cheeks paled as she avoided answering that question—even to herself.

‘I’ve never asked you about any of the women you’ve been involved with, have I?’

His jaw tightened, his mouth thinning into a hard line. ‘And is David someone you’re involved with?’

‘I believe I used the past tense, Jackson,’ she snapped, fuming with annoyance.

His expression was grim. ‘Past tense as in years ago or recently?’

Bree moved impatiently. ‘What difference does it make as long as it’s in the past?’

‘You tell me …’ He raised his eyebrows, looking deep into her eyes.

She shook her head. ‘I have no idea what you want from me, Jackson.’

‘I believe, for the moment, a simple answer to my question will do,’ he said softly.

Bree frowned at him and took a deep breath. ‘Look, I’m sorry if David came here earlier and … and was a nuisance. He’s obviously annoyed you somehow.’

‘I don’t know enough about the man to be annoyed with him, Bree,’ he assured her briskly.

‘Does that mean you’re annoyed with me?’ she asked incredulously.

‘I don’t remember saying I was annoyed with anyone!’

‘Well, you’re definitely in a snit about something!’

Jackson hesitated. ‘A … snit?’

‘A snit, yes. That’s the only explanation I can think of for this ridiculous conversation,’ Bree snapped.

‘Is it ridiculous to show an interest in your friends?’ Jackson took a slow, predatory step towards her as he continued to hold her gaze with his own.

Wariness darkened those smoky-grey eyes. ‘It’s definitely something,’ she insisted firmly.

Jackson shrugged his shoulders dismissively as he moved to stand behind her.

‘Nevertheless …’

Standing this close to Bree, he could detect the enticing, delicate fragrance of her perfume, and somewhere deeper, beneath the artificial scent, he sensed her arousal: a hot spiciness that caused his shaft to thicken against the rough denim of his jeans as he gave in to temptation and threaded his fingers into the silky hair at Bree’s temples.

‘What are you doing?’ Bree breathed, her back stiff with shock, her neck tense.

‘What does it feel like I’m doing?’ Jackson whispered huskily.

Whatever it was, it felt marvellous. Bree was almost purring as Jackson’s fingers moved lightly through her hair. Her eyes closed and her back arched with pleasure when she felt the full weight of her hair falling about her shoulders as Jackson removed the clip, shaking the lustrous length of curls loose before continuing that soothing caress.

She knew she should stop him—knew that they were once again stepping over that line between employer and employee. Knew it and yet couldn’t prevent it. Didn’t want to prevent it, she amended, as Jackson’s hands moved to rest lightly on top of her shoulders. She felt the warmth of his breath against her earlobe, gasping as his lips began a slow and leisurely exploration down the length of her throat.

The muscles in Bree’s neck loosened and she leaned her head back, dark lashes brushing her cheeks as her eyes closed, breasts thrusting forward, hands clenched at her sides. She could no longer contain a groan of ecstasy as an electric current of pleasure travelled down her spine, culminating almost unbearably between her thighs.

Jackson’s hands slid down over the tops of her breasts, lightly skimming the sensitised tips before cupping the firm rounds beneath, gently squeezing and massaging their soft weight.